#I love his scars and his rugged look but this is also beautiful to me

[catz4ever]

MY GOD.

DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE THE SCARS BUT SAM COULD PLAY A FAIR-FORM ELF ANY DAY.

OH. MY. OVARIES.

[tojisun]

the lights are on

!! simon riley x afab reader; chubby reader; confidence and body issues; past bullying (not by simon and briefly mentioned); smut - minors dni // divider by @/plutism!

i projected too much of myself onto the reader so do forgive me for that. this is a milestone celebration for me, mostly, but also for you all so i hope you all would like it too <3

this is inspired by rachel wiley’s “10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy” - a slam poetry

you are told that love comes easily — that it is the budding of spring, shimmering and vibrant, and blooming oh-so tenderly. unfurling oh-so carefully, like you are melting into padded sheets and cashmere sweaters.

you are told that love comes easily — that it stands out amongst a vast ocean. that it is distinguishable; a beacon so familiar you run towards it, unafraid and unashamed. like fate or destiny; like fairytales being remade.

you are told that love comes easily, but you know they mean to people who don’t look like you; only for the girls with slim arms and robust legs, with dips in their waists and hour-glass figures, with bones pressing against their skins like carved mountains.

love comes easily to thin girls. to the girls whose loud laughter are heard as wind chimes, whose jolly isn’t sneered at or embarrassing to see, whose confidence is just is — that it isn’t an act of empowerment or a statement or a message.

so you slink back into your shadows with little laughs and curled shoulders, like maybe if you diminished your presence enough, you would be seen physically small too. petite is a word no one has used for you but how else can anyone explain the way you trim yourself into bite-sized pieces?

you aren’t the first to be chosen; not the one people fight over. when you walk into a room, the best that could happen was that no one would notice you. that you would blend into the shadows or the walls, quiet and peaceful. painfully lonely, yes, but peaceful, nevertheless.

(you still have nightmares of high school.

of boys using you for their dares, like the only thing good about you was to be the butt of the joke; like asking you out was a comedic show.

of girls and—

sometimes, they’re meaner than the boys with all their lilac and softness; you thought that at least they were a kindred soul, but so many times, during lunch, you were cornered into tears until you became full from nothing but your anguish.)

when simon first walked into your life, you knew it — whatever ‘it’ could be — was impossible.

you had already ended the tragedy before something could even begin. you saw his beauty — in a way that you cannot explain; in a way that is rugged and scarred and terrifying, almost, but beautiful, still — and knew there was no way he would fall for you, anyway.

but simon was… persistent. charming you in a way that was painfully absent of all suave but he was still so charismatic, he always left your stomach in knots. hope bloomed in your chest and you realized that maybe it needn’t be a tragedy; that it mustn’t be a joke nor a dare; that you must be—

loved.

that you are loved — just that. just as is.

.

.

simon watches as you lay down on the bed, your cheeks tingling with heat as embarrassment rises from the base of your neck, dancing past your shoulders and devouring up until even the tip of your nose thrums with feverish touch. you look away from him, feeling so shy at the intensity in his eyes. he looks at you like he is ravenous for you; like you are the only nourishment he needs, and that you have made him hungry, his gums aching with the need to sink his teeth into the soft parts of your body.

you have never been looked at like this before, and it is intoxicating. it makes you heady, breathless, lips parted open as you gasp for air—

rustling fills your ears and you perk up, getting ready to snap your bra off, only to find simon naked, bare, his cock chubbing up from underneath his bush, and you have never loved a body until his. lust coils in the tendrils of your heart, stretching into the yawning that burrows in the pit of your stomach to capture you whole.

you want him.

god, do you want him.

he falls to his knees, stalking close to where you are splayed on the bed like the offering you are that he says he will never deserve, but you stop him with a hand up and a quiet breath, and, “the lights.”

your voice trembles. shame slowly snuffs out the greed.

“can you turn them off, please?” you ask because it is a courtesy you were taught to—

‘can you bathe me in darkness so that the two of us can pretend that i am not undesirable and that your love is not a fluke?’

‘can you hide me from your eyes so your mind does not give you reason to pull away?’

‘can you reduce me into a body to fuck into, so that our pretend-love story does not end?’

your question makes simon still, his heady eyes lightening up again. recognition slips into his consciousness and he rouses up — you tell yourself that the caving in your chest isn’t a heartbreak — to reach forward.

to reach for—

you.

simon’s scarred palm falls to your stomach, planting atop the sea of stretch marks. his thumb traces their ridges, so soft and slow and intimate, and your eyes burn because why is he so cruel?

why must he touch you like you are something to revere? like you are something priceless and that he is undeserving of you? like you are, all parts, beautiful?

“won’t you let me love you like this?” is what he says instead, and he moves, desperate to meet your eyes. “can we do it with the lights on, from now on?”

all the air in your lungs is knocked out of you.

his words were quiet but they resonated so loudly, almost booming and deafening. the world doesn’t freeze nor does time slow, but there is something in that moment that makes you feel like you are at the throes of something divine. like you are finally sewn together.

you do not sob but you are so close to doing so. instead, you pull him close, trembling, and give him a kiss. he melts into it, his hands mapping the softness of your body, digging into the fat and never letting go.

he devours you like this — hot lips against your own. spit is shared, moans fall in between the tiny cracks whenever you pull away to breathe only for simon to push close again, never letting you stray alone any longer, and clingy as he fits you into him.

the first drag of his fingers into your cunt makes you gasp, your head falling back to the pillows as a mewl drips from your mouth. he pulls away, huffing, and positions himself so he can watch you. you keep your head tipped up, still so embarrassed by being exposed this way, but simon curls his fingers just right, and he strokes against something that punches a gasp out of you.

“shit—”

“like this, sweetheart?” simon croons, nuzzling his face on your rib, his cheek bumping against your boob. he pulls his fingers out, dragging with him muffled squelching noises that tickle your ears, before fucking his fingers in you again.

you whine, a drawn hiccupped sound, and claw at the sheets at the pace he adopts. it is fast, overwhelming, but still not enough. it seems like he’s spoiled you rotten, and left you needy for nothing but his cock.

“fuck me,” you whimper, arms looped around his wrists. you feel so weak from the pleasure, wrung out of orgasms with his fingers in your cunt and his palm against your clit. you flick your eyes up, meeting his gaze. “si, please?”

he lets out a snarl, his softness and need peaking into something dangerous. you find that you are not scared, instead, you are besotted — inviting him in by spreading your legs wider, showing him how wet your pussy is and that it is ready for his taking.

your face crumples at the slow slide, his cock fucking you raw like this is the first time again. like you two have more to explore, more to uncover, and you keen at the intensity of it all.

missionary has never felt this good before; simon thrusts his hips, humping the remaining inches in, and you scream — your hips snapping up, and your throat burning with the ache. simon holds you by your waist, his fingers dimpling your flesh, and fucks you with gusto.

he chases his orgasm as he melts into you. he is louder today, and more guttural with his desires. he snarls his praises, the words curling from the backs of his teeth until they drip on you like hot wax — scalding, overwhelming, and leaving you to feel all tender and raw.

“si!” you cry out, reaching forward to play with your clit. “m’close, baby. m’close!”

“yeah?” he rasps out, his balls slapping against your ass. you go dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as goosebumps rise across the expanse of your body. “do i make my baby feel good? tell me, sweetheart, go on. tell me, huh?”

he is rambling, untethered, himself, as he loses in his own swelling euphoria.

you sob, toes digging into the mattress because you are unable to properly vocalize the pleasure, your mind all razed by the way he fucks you, but your baby is asking you to do so, so you tell him, “s’good. baby, s’good! i feel so full an’ only you can fuck me good an’— an’ si, i’m gonna— i’m gonna—”

your orgasm hits you like a fever breaking; like you are feeling a sense of release that has never been felt before. you feel like you are suspended, floating, your skin buzzing with lightning. you don’t even know you are screaming, deaf to anything but the explosion of ecstatic pleasure.

your teeth rattle at the first spurt of simon’s cum, and he presses uncoordinated kisses on your lips. it makes you giggle, all sluggish now that exhaustion is weaving in, and it is then that you meet simon’s eyes.

they are so clear and vibrant, the way they only ever are under light. they crinkle in his smile, and you puff, snuggling close, feeling like you can drop to sleep with his cock still in you.

“love you si,” you murmur, your words sticking together in your drowsiness.

he presses a kiss on your temple and breathes you in. then, “i love you too, sweetheart.”

and the lights are still on.

thank you once again for the 15k, and i hope you have loved this the way i loved writing it <33

i was struck with the poetry, and the way wiley described the way she is loved. she started her performance with the lines: “i say, ‘i am fat.’ he says, ‘no, you are beautiful.’ i wonder why i cannot be both.” and i have never related to anything more. wiley then talks about how their relationship unfurls, and in ‘6’ (it is a list poetry), she says, “he tells me he loves me with the lights on,” and i sobbed.

so i wrote a fic of me, and i hope thats alright.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.” 

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin. 

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked. 

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course. 

Why is he talking to you? 

He glances down at your drink. 

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?” 

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles. 

“You live around here?” 

“I go to Rice.” 

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?” 

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult. 

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats. 

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you. 

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool. 

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak. 

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.” 

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need. 

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready. 

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff. 

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask. 

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite. 

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay? 

Everything is not okay. 

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes. 

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules. 

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.”  As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours. 

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens. 

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell. 

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that? 

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it. 

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care. 

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.”  Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.  

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever. 

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin. 

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand. 

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”  

No strings attached. 

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to. 

What’re you doing? 

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first. 

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened. 

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.  

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come. 

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap. 

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny." 

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy. 

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs. 

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself. 

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow. 

[hoshigray]

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

[ixtaek]

Throwing my Dark World form headcanons in the ring:

Hyrule: A rat. He’s a survivor, adaptable, can be soft and cute or rugged and feral, plus he’s still kinda on scale with Legend

Time: As much as I want him to be a monkey (like the ones from Majora’s Mask!) I feel like the gold wolf is effectively canon soooo can go either way. The monkey reflects his adventures, is playful and dexterous and how he looks out for his little troupe (that IS his circus and those ARE his monkeys), but the wolf ties him to Twilight. So yeah.

Legend: Sorry dude you’re a bunny and you’re adorable. (I wish you could be a hedgehog. But canon.)

Twilight: Sorry dude you’re a wolf and you’re also adorable.

Wind: I will die on the hill of Wind being a seagull. And also wanting so bad to fly that he has to basically be restrained (mostly by Sky) lest he try to dive-bomb monsters.

Four: A beetle! A shiny one with a multi-colored shell that reflects the four colors. Added bonus if Four is one type of beetle and the Colors are all slightly different ones (Red as a firefly y’all. Are you seeing the vision??)

Warriors: Warhorse all the way. Twilight is SO jealous. They all kinda are. In honor of something that actually happened to me with my BotW horse, he can, will, and HAS chased and trampled a Yiga trying to get the jump on the others.

Sky: Canadian Goose. A good flyer but also can be cute and cuddly or TERRIFYING depending on the mood. It’s a beautiful day and you are a sleepy godslayer—

Wild: A stag. I have a special love for the deer in BotW and rode them often because it was more fun than walking. Wild’s horns would be broken on the side with the scars.

[lovemydarkestsecrets-blog]

Future love, Past memories

Inspired by this photo:

“So, in your timeline,” Sam began hesitantly, turning away from the book in front of him to glance at his much older brother. The years had not been kind to Dean—his face was rugged and worn, with lines etched deep from countless battles and heartaches. Yet, there was something about his ruggedness that made Sam’s heart skip a beat, something raw and undeniably captivating. “what am I like?”

Dean smiled softly, memories flooding back. "You’re incredible, Sammy. You're strong and brave, but more than that, you’re kind. You always put others first, even when it hurts you. You’ve got this heart that just... shines, you know? You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sam's breath caught, his heart pounding at the depth of Dean's words. He looked at Dean, really looked at him—the greying hair, the scars, the weariness in his eyes. And in that moment, Sam saw beyond the rugged exterior to the man who had always been his protector, his constant. There was something in the way Dean looked at him, something he had never allowed himself to see before. It was overwhelming, confusing, and yet... it felt right.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, "What's our relationship like?"

Dean paused for a moment, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before he smiled softly. "We've never been closer. We're... partners, in every sense of the word. We hunt together, we take care of each other, and... we love each other. It's not always easy, but it's real. It's the best thing in my life."

Sam's breath caught again, this time at the implication of Dean's words. He tried to process it all—the idea of a deeper, more intimate connection with his brother in the future. It felt overwhelming but also strangely comforting. He and Dean would end up together? This beautiful man would be his?

"Do you have a photo of older me?" Sam asked, his curiosity in full force. If Dean looked like this, what would he look like?

Dean bit the inside of his lip before he nodded. "Yeah, actually, I have a lot of photos." He pulled out his wallet and carefully extracted a worn Polaroid. He handed it to Sam with a bittersweet smile.

Sam took the photo and studied it intently. It was a picture of them during their first Christmas at the bunker. Both of them wore Santa hats—Dean's slightly askew, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Sam, on the other hand, was beaming, his smile wide and genuine, a twinkle in his eye that spoke of a rare moment of pure joy. The background showed a simple but warmly decorated room, with a small Christmas tree adorned with a mix of traditional ornaments and a few quirky ones that were clearly picked out by Sam. Dean's arm was around Sam's shoulders, pulling him close, and there was an undeniable warmth and affection radiating from both of them.

"You never gave up on me," Dean whispered, staring at the photo of the man he loved the most. The memory of that Christmas flooded back—how Sam had insisted on celebrating despite everything, how he had managed to make Dean laugh and relax, even if just for a little while. "You always found a way to bring light into my life, no matter how dark things got. I miss you so much, Sammy. Every moment without you feels like a piece of me is missing."

Sam looked up from the photo, his heart aching at the raw emotion in Dean's voice. He could see the longing in Dean's eyes, the deep, unyielding love he held for his future self. It was overwhelming to realize just how much they meant to each other.

Without thinking, Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean's. The kiss was tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had been building up inside them. Dean's heart ached with longing and love, knowing that this wasn't his Sam, but feeling the connection all the same. He savored the moment, feeling the softness of Sam's lips, the warmth of his touch, the innocence that his own timeline's battles had stripped away.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean rested his forehead against Sam’s, closing his eyes to hold onto the fleeting moment. “What was that for?”

Sam looked up into his brother’s big, caring eyes. His protecter. Now, and forever. “Future me would have wanted you to have that.”

[heavenlytouches]

You comented on my Na'vi post long ago saying about writing something A vatar themed. Can you do Tsu tey female reader? Thanksss xx

Hello sweetie! Whoopsie, I kinda forgot TwT but no worries, I'm sure I can whip up something about our grumpy blue dude! Thank you so so much for reminding me babes!

El <3

Tsu'tey- the heart of Pandora

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

FEM  reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

NA'VI! x SCIENTIST!reader

(all Na'vi language I used will be listed and translated) :)

grumpy boy <3

Tsu'tey

(I love Na'vi collages sm)

You adjusted your exo-pack, peering through it into the iridescent landscape of Pandora. Bioluminescent plants stretch towards the colorful sky as shadows flicker at the edge of your peripheral vision. You love this world- the vibrant flora, the majestic fauna, and most of all- the thrill of exploration.

As a scientist, every element holds secrets waiting to be discovered, but there's one thing you find particulary intriguing- a certain Na'vi warrior named Tsu'tey.

He's unmatched in both strength and ferocity, a protector of his people. You've seen him from a safe distance of your lab- his towering frame outlined against the glowing trees, his presence both commanding and intimidating.

To you, he often seems grumpy and cold, glancing at your kind with an air of disdain as if you're more an annoying insect than a person. Still, there's something about his rugged demeanor that tugs at your heart- something that hints at uncharted depths beneath that icy exterior.

Your days are typically filled with research, colleting samples of flora for analysis and documenting your findings.

However, you find that every time Tsu'tey wanders into your workspace- hands on his navy hips, brow furrowed- you can't help but feel your pulse quicken.

Perhaps he's the most beautiful Omaticayan, the most beautiful sight on Pandora. Maybe, just maybe you wished he could see you differently too.

One late afternoon under the obsidian sky, you take a deep breath. Your exo-pack making wonders, letting you breathe while also giving you the ability to look around yourself. Tsu'tey was sitting near you under the tree, his hands moving restlessly- sharpening his arrows one by one.

"Tsu'tey"

You call, your voice slightly wavering. He turns to you, his brow arching in curiosity. His yellow eyes were staring at you, his blue ears flat against his skull.

"Would you mind helping me gather some flowers over by floating rocks?"

Tsu'tey got up and placed his arrow on the ground. He looked at you curiously, his blue tail whiping behind his back. You tried not to stare at the tall alien as he moved closer, many decorations around his neck swinging as he walked.

"I need them for my research on bioluminescence."

You explained, looking at his form- silently peering at you. His body was huge, tall and blue, streaked with navy marks and glowing white freckles. He had some scars from past battles.

His expression remains one of stoic indifference, but after an agonizing pause, he nods briskly. It's not the warmth you hoped for but it's the start.

"Get up, tawtute." (sky person)

He says, not even looking at you. You sprang to your feet, following the tall alien who was already vanishing near the purple bushes.

Together, you navigate the treacherous paths as he leads the way, his strength evident in the way he swings past various obstacles.

"You tawtutes... always demanding, always exploring." (sky people)

He muttered to himself. You were walking beside the tall Na'vi, trying to keep up with his steps.

As you crouch to collect specimens, Tsu'tey watches, keenly aware, as if guarding your safety. The flowers you gather in your hands, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you share something more-a silent connection. That's until he notices which flowers you picked. He gently smacks your hands before you bring the flowers to your nose.

"Kä neto! Poison. Don't touch everything." (get away)

Tsu'tey's hand pulls yours as he continues walking. You could feel your legs treble, he was pulling you by your hand. His big blue palm covered yours completely. Your delusions eating you up, why did he sound protective? This was a start of something new.

Days turn into weeks, and the simple outings become the highlight of your research. Tsu'tey shows up more often than other of his kind, grumbling under his breath- though you suspect it's his awkward attempt to mask the fact that he's beginning to enjoy these little excursions.

He fetches you tools you need and helps to transport your findings. At first, he does so begrudgingly, but you notice a shift in how he examines you while you're lost in your work, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his golden eyes.

One evening, after a long day of sampling you ask-

"Tsu'tey, have you ever gone scavenging under the green flame trees?"

His eyes flicker to yours, looking puzzled and something else. You could see something in his gaze, maybe awkwardness or sadness..?

"Dr. Grace said the luminescent organisms are breathtaking at night."

He grunts, sounding slightly annoyed but intrigued.

"I do not need permission to explore, but I do find that interesting."

Tsu'tey sounded different, something soft creeped in his voice as he bent down to your level, your faces an inch away.

"But if you wish to see them, I will take you."

The tall alien replied, and a small, smug smile curls on his lips. You stood up, looking at Tsu'tey and nodding. His sharp teeth gleaming on moonlight.

The night soon wraps Pandora in it's starry embrace, and the verdant glow of the trees beckons. Tsu'tey leads the way, his imposing figure gliding through the shadows as you scramble to keep up. The world transforms under the luminescent twinkling of the flora, each step revealing a dazzling interplay of folors that seem to pulse with life.

"I know this place well."

He says, leading you to a small clearing flooded with silvery light.

"It is where my people come to connect with spirits of Eywa." (Na'vi goddes)

He gestures dramatically to the surroundings, almost challenging you to admire it.

"It's beautiful.. Grace was right"

You breathe, feeling the essence of the world wash over you. But you can't help but steal glances at him. In these moments, the walls he built around himself begin to crack.

Your soft admiring tone triggers something in him, and he shifts, the glint of vulnerability shining through the layers of bravado.

"Beauty can easily be forgotten, especially by those who do not understand."

There's a weight in his words, laden with an unspoken history.

Before you can respond, a rustle disturbs the tranquility and a glowing creature skims past- the kind you've long wanted to catalog. Excitedly, you chase after it, heart racing. Tsu'tey watches, amusement replacing annoyance as he leans against a tree, arms crossed.

"Why do you chase it skxawng?" (moron-fem)

He calls out but you don't have time to formulate an answer. The creature flits beyond your reach, deeper into the woods, it's light flickering like a whisper luring you forward.

"Tsu'tey??!"

You call, your voice echoing in the stillness. The thrill morphs into worry, and shadows loom larger.

Then, like a guardian spirit, Tsu'tey appears out of the shadows, his expression serious. Without hesitation, he takes your hand and the contact sends another jolt through you. He guides you back, grip firm and gentle.

"I told you NOT to wander too far."

He murmurs as you regain the clearing.

"The woods can be deceivng."

"I'm.."

You stutter, still in awe of the strength surging between you.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away."

His eyes soften, revealing glimpse of feeling long buried.

"You are brave, but bravery without caution can lead to danger."

He offers, his tone gruff yet edged with an underlying warmth.

As you both sit among the glowing flora, something shifts in the air around you. Silence drapes over the night, but it feels different- not uncomfortable, but laden with anticipation. There is a flicker of understanding, a known glance that spirals between you, and in that moment, you recognize that maybe, just maybe this grumpy warrior is beginning to see you not only as a scientist but as someone worth knowing.

The night deepens, and with every shared moment- every stolen glance where your gazes connect- you realise a transformative journey has begun, one that could unravel more than friendship beneath the luminous skies of Pandora.

"Will you join me for more scavenging yawntutsyìp?" (dear one)

He finally asks, a hint of smirk betraying his gruff demeanor.

A smile spreads across your face, hope blossoming within.

"Every adventure is better with you, Tsu'tey."

As you sit side by side, an unspoken promise hangs in the air- this was only the beginning of something profound in the heart of Pandora, where the colors glowed not only in the landscape but also in the growing connection between you two.

PHEW! This was a long one! Also I hope y'all liked this one :D

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much

( @marlenalmar tagged you as I promised, enjoy reading ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ )

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 9: ...And Now I'm Covered In You

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: lots of dialogue because i can’t make them stfu :) also smut in the first half, in case you don’t want to read it Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay @nn-hh192 Chapter List

To say you were surprised when you woke up with your face buried in the chest of Arthur Morgan would be an understatement.

When you woke, the realization made you gasp, almost immediately regretting it when Arthur began to stir. Luckily your outburst had been quiet enough that he fell right back asleep, his arms pulling you closer. 

The events of the night, and morning, came back to you then. Flashes passed through your mind; the way his hands had felt, the way his lips had covered your body, the way he stretched you so deliciously. It was all a blur, ending sometime in the early morning. You knew because you heard the birds singing as you fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

The aches in your body made sense, then, and why you felt like you hadn’t slept a minute. Every muscle felt like it had been pushed to the maximum, and if you were able to move you were certain it would hurt. But you were stuck, unable to get out of the embrace Arthur held you in. Even his legs had you in a lock, tangled with yours underneath the sheets. You were stuck. 

You were just able to look up at him with weary eyes. Sunlight illuminated him, and you could see details about him that you hadn’t been able to before. His eyelashes were quite long, resting on his cheeks as he slept. You noticed some beauty marks that dotted his face, even lighter than the few that you knew of, and you swore you even saw some freckles. 

There were also some light scars that had faded over time. One stretched across his nose bridge, no doubt from the injury that made it crooked in the first place. Another nicked his eyebrow, barely messing with the hair there, and you’d have never seen it if you weren’t this close. In his beard, you were just able to see the scar tissue there. You’d always assumed that the small patch there just never grew hair, but you now knew that it was a scar. 

You then examined the features that you knew so well, the ones you’d come to love dearly. His soft hair, mused and ruffled from hours of your hands in it. The arch of his brow, the creases of his eyes, the slope of his crooked nose. His lips, so plush and soft, the ones that had been all over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you stretched, barely able to brush his lips with your own. 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d do that.”

Arthur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, your aforementioned weariness dissipating as adrenaline kicked in. “Arthur,” you gasped out, unable to hide a small smile. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Long enough to know you’ve been starin’ at me.” His voice was gravely with sleep, even more rougher than normal. It made you shiver. 

“How could I not?” You sighed, staring at him with obvious adoration. 

A dusting of pink colored his cheeks, smiling broadly at you. “How you can stand to even look at this mug is beyond me. And to enjoy lookin’ at it?” He shook his head, and you felt one of his arms unwrap from around you. You melted when he rested his now free hand on your cheek, fingers weaving into your hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

Before you could argue that he did indeed deserve you, he was pulling you in, kissing you properly. It was short, but it conveyed something that made your heart thud rapidly. His hand remained on your cheek even when he pulled away, thumb caressing the skin slowly. Now that you weren’t so startled, you felt tired once again, and the soft way he was holding you certainly wasn’t helping, and neither was the heat from his body. 

You must’ve yawned, because Arthur was chuckling gently with a fond look on his face. “Few more minutes?” He asked, and you nodded. He pressed a final kiss to the top of your head, making you relax even more, before returning his arm to where it had been a few moments prior. “A few more minutes, then.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a content slumber.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The two of you definitely slept in longer than a few minutes.

You weren’t sure how long exactly, but you knew a significant chunk of time had passed. 

It was hunger that woke you now. Your stomach grumbled and twisted, and you tried to ignore it, shuffling deeper into the mattress.

But it wasn’t the hunger pangs that made you jolt upright. It was the lack of Arthur’s body next to yours, no longer holding you. 

Setting a hand to where he had been, you were weirdly relieved when you found it to still be warm, and you heard the sound of running water from the ensuite bathroom. 

Now sitting upright, you were now regretting getting up so quickly, your muscles complaining. Rubbing at your neck, you were surprised to find that it was more tender than anticipated, but only in certain spots. In fact, as you rubbed at the weary muscles, you found more spots like that: along your breasts, in between your thighs, across your stomach. There weren’t a lot, but it was enough to be a tad bit alarming.

Pulling off the sheet that covered it, you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as you saw the various marks peppering your body. There weren’t even more than ten, not including the ones you now presumed to be on your neck. The sight made you reel, enjoying it far more than you thought you would. 

After a bit of pain, you managed to get out of bed, but standing was a whole different story. Your knees practically gave out when you took the first step, and you had to hold onto the bed to support. You were grateful that Arthur was currently in the bathroom, unable to see what he’d done to you.

It took longer than it should’ve, but you eventually made your way to the vanity and mirror tucked into the corner of the room. You never used this one, opting for the one in the bathroom or closet, but you highly doubt you’d be able to make it to the closet. And the other one was preoccupied, and you highly doubt that Arthur would mind if you barged in, but you still wanted to give him privacy.

You gasped again when you saw your reflection, but you’d be a liar if you said the sight wasn’t erotic. Your neck had seen the worst of it, darkened hickeys lining both sides, and you ran a tentative finger over them, which made you fight back a small hiss of pain. 

You heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, and when you turned your head you were met with the glorious sight that was a completely bare Arthur. He hadn’t caught your eye yet, running his hands through his hair, smoothing it out as best he could. When he realized the bed was empty, though, he looked around, and then his eyes finally fell to where you were standing. 

A series of emotions passed over his face as he regarded you; surprise, appreciation, then thinly veiled desire. You couldn’t look away as he began to saunter over, a playful smirk on his face, and you focused hard on keeping your gaze at an appropriate level. Arthur seemed to have no qualms with checking you out, his eyes flicking over every part of you, making you feel warm. 

“Good morning, Arthur.” Your voice didn’t like that you tried to talk louder than a whisper, and it sounded scratchy and airy. 

“Good afternoon, darlin’.” When he finally reached you, he stood behind you, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into him. His head rested on your shoulder, the stubble of his beard pressing into your skin. After making sure any hair was out of the way, you felt as he pressed a gentle kiss against your neck, and you felt yourself go completely lax in his arms.

He met your eyes in the mirror as he held you, rocking your body slightly. “Gorgeous,” you heard him murmur, and you tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “None of that, now,” he laughed lightly, drawing your attention back to him. “There you are.”

He was staring at you hungrily, shaking off any remnants of sleep in your body. He was insatiable, but you were loving it. You’d never felt this desired, this craved, and it made you feel good. 

Keeping one arm slung around your waist to keep you pressed close to him, you felt as he began to brush his fingers over the marks around your neck, much lighter than you had. Still, it elicited a small noise of complaint from you. “M’Sorry,” you heard him murmur, and you shook your head in response. 

“Does it seem like I’m complainin’?” You chuckled lightly, but there was still a hint of guilt on his features. “Just, no more. I don’t know how I’m coverin’ these, let alone more.”

“So you are complainin’.”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, much to the amusement of Arthur. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He just hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror. It was quite a nice sight, you wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, the evidence of the night's escapades littering your body. “Hell of a sight to walk out and see,” he murmured, taking on a raspy tone that you’d come to know quite well over the past day. 

“Not a bad sight yourself.” Your already unsteady legs grew weaker when you felt him begin to drag his fingers down. “Arthur…”

“Want me to stop?”

“You better not.”

A breathy laugh left Arthur. “Understood, darlin’.” As you asked, he continued, making you shiver and press into him. His chest was practically flush with your back, and you could feel it begin to rise more rapidly with barely contained excitement. When he grazed your breasts, the responding noise you made made him grin, and you could feel him half-hard against your back. 

You tried to reach behind and touch him, but he lightly redirected you. “Later. Lemme make you feel good.” You expected to feel him grope at your breasts, so you jumped a bit when you felt his touch continue below them, traveling down and down. It was like he had one goal on his mind.

He had to lean over slightly in order to reach comfortably between your legs. Your eyes fluttered close when you felt him there, but a gentle nudge had you opening them back up. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed. “I want you to see yourself fall apart.” His words, along with the just-woken-up gruff tone in his voice, made you shiver. 

You could do nothing but nod, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt him brush between your folds, fingers barely grazing your clit. But he didn’t tease you, his touch returning to that spot and focusing in on it. Your light gasps turned to moans as he worked you, muttering praises in your ear, his head still resting on your shoulder. 

Blue eyes were locked onto you in the mirror, mesmerized by the way your features contorted in pleasure, your mouth agape as noises left you. One of your hands rested on the one between your thighs, the other reaching up and around, tangling your fingers into his hair. He was practically holding you up at this point, your legs long since turned boneless. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmured, catching your gaze. The slow but persistent movement of his fingers had slowly started to build up the tension in you. 

“Arthur…” Your eyes threatened to close. 

“You gettin’ close, darlin’?”

You mumbled something in response, but it was enough for him. “Just let go,” his teeth nip at your ear. “Wach how beautiful you are when you cum.”

And you did. You watched the way a breathless sigh caught in your throat, your lips a perfect ‘o’ shape. You watched how your cheeks flushed, your eyes rolled back, the fingers in his hair turning deadly as a gentle orgasm washed over you. It left like a caress of a gentle wave over your body, not hitting you like it did last night, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory. 

He helped you ride through your high, and you pushed away his hand when it became too much. Your eyes were still locked onto both of your reflections, his glistening fingers retracting themselves. Blindly, you reached behind you, hearing him let out a choked noise when your hand wrapped around him, now fully erect against your back.

But you found the angle too awkward, and so twisting in his arms you finally faced him. Pressing kisses against his collarbones, you began to stroke him slowly, quickly picking up speed when you felt him press himself into your hand. His breathing was already labored, and you realized how worked up he had gotten from pleasuring you, being already this close. 

“Arthur,” you sighed against his neck, running your free hand up his chest. Your nails scrapped lightly, running through the hair on his chest. He groaned out your name in response, head resting against yours, his breathing hot and heavy. 

It only took a few more strokes before, with a shuddering breath, he came. His spend coated your stomach

“Let’s get washed up before we spend the whole day in here,” you chucked lightly, still catching your breath.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve got the stamina-”

“Who said anythin’ about sex, darlin’? I could be content just holidn’ you in my arms all day.”

For a moment, you seriously considered his argument, the bed looking quite inviting from where it sat behind Arthur. But before you could answer, your hungry stomach decided to answer for you, interrupting the silence. Embarrassed, you groaned, head resting on Arthur’s chest, and you felt it rumble as he laughed. “Guess that answers that, then.”

Tugging you to the bathroom, Arthur helped wash your skin, before letting you go to the closet to get dressed. But before you did, you snuck him a kiss, laughing when he chased after your lips. Donning a high-neck blouse, which rubbed uncomfortably against your neck, as well as a skirt, you felt the ache in your muscles as you dressed, making you wince and grin.

Finished, you headed downstairs as Arthur got washed up… again. There was a newfound energy in your step as you descended the stairs, your nerves still buzzing pleasantly. You chuckled when you saw Arthur’s hat discarded on the ground, and so after heading over and picking it up, you put it on one of the couches, easy for him to grab. 

Your grumbling stomach led you to the kitchen, where you got to work on making breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal and fruits. It was when you were making his bowl when you saw him enter, the bottom half of him covered in clothes. His button-up was on, sure, but was left completely open, giving you a perfect view as he approached. You tried not to look too disappointed when he buttoned it up halfway.

“What’s all this?” He asked, his hands returning to where they had been when he first held you in front of the mirror. 

“Breakfast, although I suppose it’s a bit late for that,” you laughed. “And you better watch those hands, Arthur.” His hands had begun to travel southward with a mischievous look.

Caught, he stopped his exploration, but he continued to hold you. His smile was infectious as you felt it press against your skin, and you bit back a laugh at the way his beard tickled you. No matter how many times you felt it, you’d never get used to it. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“It’s nothin’. I was hungry, and I figured it be rude to make you watch me eat.” He chuckled. “Bowl on the right’s yours.”

He hummed in thanks but was apprehensive about removing his hands, opting to hold you for a few moments longer. He eventually did, though, then made his way to the table with you following behind. Like the person he was, he pulled the chair out for you, leaning down and sneaking a kiss in while pushing the chair in. It made you chuckle, and your heart felt warm as you watched him sit next to you.

As the two of you began to eat in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but marvel at how right it all felt. Waking up in his arms, him joining you in the kitchen, even eating breakfast together. It all felt like it was meant to happen, meant to be. And when you glanced up from your bowl and saw Arthur’s eyes on you, you knew he felt the same.

But you’d never pictured Arthur as a domestic man. He was an outlaw, a person not tied down by anything, be it rules or people. What that meant for your future together, you weren’t quite sure, but for now, you were content to just ignore it. It had been a great day so far; you didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about the future. 

Sliding your arm toward him, you took one of his hands, and he squeezed gently in response. Even though he’d had his hands over your entire body last night, something that would normally make you want to crawl out of your skin if it was any other person, this touch felt somehow more intimate, more personal. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d been laughing lightly until he raised a brow at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’.” And it was true, there wasn’t actually anything funny with the situation. Well, it certainly was a bit funny, as you were currently in love with the man who had tried to break into your house all those weeks ago. You were just so damn happy that you couldn’t keep it contained any longer. “Nothin’ at all.”

“You’re a strange woman,” he mumbled in jest, the same words he had uttered to you in Rhodes when you first met properly. 

“And I’ll still take that as a compliment, Arthur.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Did you ever think this would happen?” You asked after a moment of silence. “Me, you, this?” You shook his hand lightly. “What’d you think was gonna happen when we first met?”

“Certainly not this. When I first met ya, in Rhodes,” he added when you began laughing again, “I thought you were gonna be another high-society person that I’d crossed, and I fully expected ya to send the law after me for what I did. But when that didn’t happen, well, I just had to talk to ya. You were, are, less… uptight than I thought you’d be. I’d never thought you’d been raised wealthy by the way you acted. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I guess we both surprised each other, then. Your appearance deceives you.”

“It’s supposed to,” Arthur sighed. “My life’d be much harder if it didn’t.”

“If only they knew how much of a softie you were,” you teased. 

“Soft?” He repeated, almost offended. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, you know.”

“I… I suppose not,” he relented. “Just don’t let the others back at camp know,” he added with a chuckle, but there was the slightest hint of alarm in his eyes. “They’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me. And your reputation.”

“Much appreciated, darlin’.”

“How is camp, by the way?” You were genuinely curious. “How is everyone?”

“I’m not gonna lie, things have been… tense lately. John’s son, Jack, was taken, but we got him back. Angelo Bronte, over in Saint Denis, had him.” You knew that name. Everyone in the area knew who Angelo Bronte was. You also knew that only the foolish tried to work with him. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Hans had dealings with him. 

“Bronte? You got him to listen to you?”

“Had to do a job for him, but yes. You know him?”

“Not personally, but I’ve been to his house plenty of times. If you got money or somethin’ to offer him, then you’ve been to his parties.”

“Dutch somehow managed to weasel us onto the guestlist for one happenin’ in a couple of days. Thinks we could get some good leads there.”

“Well, Dutch is right ‘bout that. Secrets are spilled there like it’s nothin’, even more so after drinks are had. Are you goin’?”

“Don’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Me neither. But, depending on when he gets back, I might just see you there.”

That seemed to cheer Arthur up over the prospect of having to rub elbows with high-society. “You’re goin’ to?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, it all depends. He usually likes to go, and it’s comin’ up around the time he usually comes back. But no promises.”

“Well, now I’m excited, maybe seein’ you in a party dress.” And you were excited at possibly seeing Arthur in a tux. 

“Gonna have to be a high-neck dress,” you grumbled, making Arthur laugh. “But other than that, things are… good? As good as they can be?”

“We had to relocate to an abandoned plantation house, Shady Belle. It’s a good spot, ‘cept for the gators. But we shouldn’t be bothered by law for a while.”

“I dunno if Javier told you, but I offered you all my house if you ever need a place to stay. Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh, he told us alright. Dutch debated sendin’ Jack and Abigail, his mom, over to ya to keep him from gettin’ taken again. But John wanted ‘em to stay in camp.”

“Is John his father?”

“As much as he tries to fight it, yes.” It seemed like a sore spot, so you didn’t press it.

“Well, if they ever change their minds, my door is usually open. And even if he’s home, I’m sure I could figure somethin’ out.”

“I’d hate to-”

“You don’t gotta decide anythin’ now. Just know the offers on the table.” Arthur looked away, biting back words. His brow was furrowed, and you could see the strain in his jaw. “Arthur?”

“You’re too kind.”

“It’s really not a bother-”

“No, you’re too kind.” His worried eyes locked onto yours. “This world is vicious, the life I live is vicious. It ruins people like you, good people. I’m… I’m afraid of you gettin’ caught up in all this. All the runnin’, the distrust, the bloodshed. I don’t wanna see it change you. I don’t wanna change you.”

“I know this world is viscous. I may not see it first-hand like you do, but I know. But isn’t that why I shouldn’t try to be kind, as naive as I might sound to say? And sure, it might come back to bite me, but isn’t it rewarding just to try?” You took a breath. “This world has already tried its hardest to change me, Arthur. It has tried to make me cold, to make me cruel, to make me uncaring. But I simply won’t let it, which I know is easier said than done. But every time I think it might just be easier to turn a cold shoulder, to ignore the problems of others, I remind myself that if I were in their shoes, I’d want someone to extend a hand out to me.”

Arthur was silent for a good while, mulling over your words. “I try to help when I can,” he began. “I really do try. But it seems like for every good deed I do, ten bad ones take its place. Every good thing I do pales in comparison to all the robbin’, the stealin’, the killin’. And it tears me up inside, the… the guilt.”

“Then why do you continue to do it?” You asked, no judgment in your voice. 

“‘Cause it’s the only thing I know how to do. It’s the only way I know to provide a life for those I care ‘bout. Acts of kindness don’t pay nearly as well as a robbery.”

“As much as I hate to agree, you’re not wrong. You’ve gotta do what you gotta to survive, and I don’t think anyone can fault you for that. And you shouldn’t feel too guilty; you steal from people who deserve it, right?”

“We’re gonna be stealin’ from you, darlin’. Are you sayin’ you deserve it?”

“Maybe not me, but Hans sure as hell does.”

“Damn right,” Arthur muttered, almost too low for you to catch. But there was still an inkling of guilt on his face.

“Besides, we’ve got so much money, so much that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like I said before, as long as he doesn’t stop helpin’ my family, you can get as much as you can from him.”

“Have you written to them? Your family?” Arthur asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from him. You’d let him, for now. 

“I sent them a letter yesterday. But I realize now that I’ve got no way of receivin’ their letters.”

“You send it in your name?” You nodded. “I’ll try to stop by, grab ‘em for ya.”

“Aren’t you wanted in Rhodes?” 

Arthur shrugged. “It’ll die down over the next week or so, which should be enough time.”

“You’re gonna do it no matter what I say, ain’t you.” The responding grin told you all that you needed to know. “Thank you, Arthur.”

He waved off your thanks, and the two of you continued your breakfast before it turned colder. You tried to stand and grab both of your bowls when you finished, but Arthur was having none of it. Ushering you back down, he took the bowls into the kitchen himself, even go so far as to wash them for you. Unsure of what to do with yourself now, you made your way to the living room, sitting on one of the couches as you waited for him to return. 

You spotted his hat out of the corner of your eye, and before you could stop yourself you picked it up, examining it in your hands. It hadn’t changed much since the first time you saw it or the time after that. Maybe there was a new scratch or nick here and there, but you didn’t see them. All you saw was a well-loved hat with more stories than you could imagine. 

You glanced up when you saw Arthur approaching, and you flashed him a grateful look. There was a regretful look on his face, and you knew exactly what was about to happen next. “You have to go, don’t you.”

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that, Arthur,” you shook your head, smiling lightly. “As much as I’d love for you to spend the rest of the day here, you’ve got responsibilities, and you’ve got people who need you. I get it.” You stood now, making your way over to him, his hat still in your hands. “Just come back, alright?”

“I’ll come back, darlin’.”

“You better mean it this time.”

“I promise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I will get Javier or someone to drag you back.”

Two hands gently grasped the sides of your face, drawing all your attention to him. “I swear,” he rested his head against yours, sighing deeply. 

You’re not sure who moved first, your lips colliding in a gentle kiss that sealed the promise he just uttered. You hoped that would be enough to push the thoughts from his brain that fed him the misconceptions that drove him away. 

“I’ll see you soon, either here or at the party,” you said when you broke apart. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he repeated, his hands dropping from your face. Before he could take a step back, you planted his hat on his head, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. With a fond look, he backed up to the entranceway, slipping on his boots with visible apprehension, not wanting this visit to end either. 

You followed him out the door, but before he descended the stairs he hesitated, looking back at you. Before you could even register he was in front of you, kissing you deeply. You let out a surprised noise, before melting into his embrace, your hands grasping his still partially unbuttoned shirt. 

But then he was leaving again, with an almost hurried gait, as if he feared if he lingered he’d never leave. You stood on the porch, slightly stunned as Arthur whistled for Bear, who came trotting out of the woods looking quite irritated at his owner. That irritation melted when he heard you call out his name, his ear flickering happily. Arthur had to stop him from coming over to you, an amused smile on his face when he turned to you. “I swear, he likes ya more than me.”

You chuckled as Arthur got atop Bear, and it took no encouragement to bring Bear closer to you. It took a little bit of stretching, but you managed to stroke his snout lightly, earning a nicker in response. After petting him for a few moments, you glanced up at his rider, a soft smile on his face. 

Words hung on the tip of your tongue, the ones you’d let slip so freely last night. Would it be too soon for you to say it again? Would it make him uncomfortable? Would it hurt you, saying them, knowing he couldn’t say it back?

Arthur watched you, almost expectantly, and you couldn’t help yourself from uttering the words. You just needed him to hear it again. 

You swore you saw something like relief on his face, only there for a fraction of a second. With slightly rose-tinged cheeks, he ducked his head, his hat covering his face from you.

“Now, get outta here Arthur,” you teased, breaking the tension. It seemed to do the trick, and you watched as Arthur began to back up. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye, for now,” he repeated with the same infliction. With one final glance, he was gone, the trees almost curling around him as he went up the trail leading to the main road. With a thumping heart, you made your way back inside, ungracefully flopping down on the couch, a sigh of disbelief leaving you.

That sigh turned into light chuckling, which turned into giddy laughter, the sore muscles in your body complaining as you laughed. Like before, you were just so happy that it threatened to overwhelm you, and you needed some way to let it out. It only took a few seconds until it died down, and you let yourself just relax, a new thought making a bittersweet smile appear. 

You’d missed what being truly happy felt like. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had taken some time, but you eventually peeled yourself off the couch. You had almost gone straight upstairs, but the newspaper on the kitchen table made you stop. You realized that Hans probably had no idea about Arthur’s involvement in Rhodes, and if the job with him was to go smoothly, then he needed to remain unaware.

Taking the paper upstairs, it rolled it up and tucked it into the lockbox, the thing barely fitting in there. Eventually, though, you were able to get it tucked back under the bed.

The room felt a lot more dead now that Arthur wasn’t around. The sheets were cold and lonesome, and as you laid down on the bed you could still smell him, all gunpowder and tobacco and leather. As sad as it made you, you also realized now that you probably needed to clean said bedsheets before Hans got home. 

Before letting yourself get lulled into a doze by the familiar smell, you got up, opening the two windows in the room to try and air it out. It took a bit of time, but you eventually gathered up all the sheets, pillowcases, and blankets on the bed, as well as the washcloths from the 

Your body hated the exertion, and it took an hour or two, but you eventually had everything on the clothesline. It did go by quickly, though, with your memories still flooded with the man that had occupied those sheets hours ago, a light smile on your face as you worked.  

Going into it, you knew that it was going to take over a day for everything to dry completely, but you were fine with that. That night, you grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, and you slept on the couch. It was uncomfortable and just irritated your sore muscles more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay in the bed, the other side barren. 

It was going to be hard to try and sleep without Arthur.

[danikamariewrites]

imagine dark reader who is azriels sister x lucien, she is possessive and obssesed with lucien and has plotted her way into his life. From the second she lied her eyes on him when he and feyre came to velaris she knew she had to have him no matter what. reader goes to great lenghts to make sure nothing stands between her and her precious lucien. She pushes elain towards her brother and slides in comments about how they make a great couple and that the mating bond isn’t really a big deal. She cringes while she says it bc she would kill for a mating bond with lucien, and cannot stand how elain is ignoring him. it enrages reader so much but also pleases her bc now she has him all to her self. Now lucien turns to reader for comfort and ofc reader gives him just what he needs. when they share their first night, she almost doesn’t let him leave their bed, she knows how charming he can be and the thought of someone being on the recieving end is nauseating. and anytime she hears the ic says something sbout lucien she defends him to no end, even with him there, she almost lets her mask slip, she calls mor out calmly when mor says something mean about him being there for starfall. still the next day someone broke into mors house and ruined all her dresses. no one knows who did it👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

please you would write this so good, like i’ve read through everything you’ve written. pls i’m so desperate for lucien being protected, i’d pay so much money for s fic. literally like do you take comissions??? i’d pay frrrrr

Fox Hunter

Lucien x Az’s sister!reader

A/n: As soon as I saw this I put my glasses on and opened my laptop. I love evrything about this and loved writing it. And thank you very much for reading all my stuff and liking it anon, that means a lot.

on the topic of commisions (it's been on my brain for a while), I have been thinking about setting something up to do them for a while now. So if that's something you guys are interested in let me know. I'll probably do a poll or something.

Warnings: dark!reader, manipulation, Elain slander, suggestive

When he stepped through the front door of the Town House for the first time I swear I stopped breathing. Though he was caked in dirt and tired looking, the seventh son of the Autumn High Lord had to be the most beautiful male I had ever seen.

His that tan skin glowed under the Fae lights. The scar over his eye gave him a handsome, rugged look. And that golden eye. Oh how entrancing that golden eye is.

It simply broke my heart when I found out he is mated to the middle Archeron sister. But Elain is a shell of a female now. It would be easy to dissuade her from accepting the bond.

Truthfully, I am jealous of the girl. Jealous and angry. She has one of the most beautiful males in Prythian willing to throw himself at her feet, and she will not give him a second of her time.

I watched as they sat together for the first time. How she reacted when he tugged on the bond. Elain was angry. I couldn't imagine being angry.

I placed my hand over my heart. Hoping against the Mother, the Cauldron, and the Gods that they made a mistake. That I would feel the tug in my chest for him.

I noticed the small glances she and my brother share. Azriel seemed so intent on keeping her from Lucien. Good.

If he kept Elain for himself I could keep Lucien. Another easy task. Azriel is desperate for love. They will not be hard to manipulate.

Lucien broke my heart again when he left for the Continent. I know it is necessary for the coming war, but it didn't hurt any less. I had made sure to say goodbye to him. To wish him well on his journey.

He seemed happy that someone in the court was treating him with kindness. Lucien had kissed my hand, thanking me and asked me to be safe as well. It took all of my power not to lose my composure in front of him.

After the war, after everything with Nesta, life calmed down. It has pained me to wait this long to truly set my plan into action. But good things take time.

I had made sure to spend time with Elain all these months. To gain her trust and show her friendship. "I must admit," She said to me, one afternoon in the garden. "I was afraid of you at first. You and Azriel were so simialr with your silence. Then you opened up to me and I'm so happy to have a friend like you, y/n."

I smiled at her. Although it was fake part of it felt real.

"I'm happy to have you as well, Elain. You can bring anyone out of their shell I'm sure." I smile at her from the stone bench I'm perched on. My wings spread a little to soak up the sunshine. "Well, not everyone." Elain says solemnly, looking back at her tulips.

I gently place a hand on her shoulder, "Keep trying with him Elain. I can tell Azriel is in love with you. You see the way he looks at you, yeah? There's no denying it."

Elain looks back up at me with those hopeful, doe eyes. "You think so?" "I know so." Happiness flashes across her face for a moment. Then she goes back to that somber look.

That look drives me crazy. Elain needs to stop feeling sorry for herself. It's not cute and it is driving me crazy.

"But what about Lucien...and the mating bond?" And there was what I was waiting for. "Your sisters, Rhysand, and Cassian make out to be this glorious thing. For them it may be that way. But you get to decide to do with yours.

"Do you feel connected to Lucien?" She shakes her no. "Do you feel the need to be close to him? To have him hold you?" She shakes her head again.

"Then the mating bond doesn't matter. Reject it of you must, but follow your heart, Elain. Not tradition." The fool smiled up at me again. Standing, she wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. "Thank you, y/n." I hugged her back for the theatrics of it all.

I watched as she scurried off inside. Most likely to fling herself at Azriel. It did hurt a little, telling her to break the bond. If someone had said that to me I'd most likely slit their throat.

The mating bond was something I had longed for since I was a little girl.

I had never had many friends or lovers growing up. It was just me and Azriel in that dungeon for most of our lives. And if we hadn't met Rhys I would be without wings.

When we got older I watched as Azriel had females fling themselves at him. While many of the males in Windhaven showed their intrest in me, I did not return the sentiment. I knew those relationships would never go anywhere.

So, I'd stick around for the fun they'd offer for a week and move on to the next. None of those males ever excited me the way Lucien did. Never made me feel love.

A few weeks later Lucien was back in Velaris. Rhys had sent him to the human lands for emissary duties. I made sure to ask him to lunch before the rest of the Inner Circle tortured him with their questions and scared him off.

We went to a nice restaurant with a view of the Sidra. Lucien pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he is. Before sitting I gave him a small peck on the cheek. Holding his smooth face in my rough hand.

I could've swore I saw the corners of his lips twitch and his cheeks turn red. I bit my lip, taking my seat.

As Lucien sat across from me we fell into easy conversation. Mother above, he's just so perfect. And charming. Any female would be lucky to have him. And that female would be me.

A lull settles between us and I sip on my water. Lucien clears his throat and I meet his gaze. "Elain has asked to meet with me." His tone changed to serious, leaving the playfulness I love so much behind.

"Do you know why?" I ask, my tone coming out more clipped than I meant. "I have a feeling it's about the bond. I know her and Azriel have been...together." He said that last part like he could feel it. I could sense his discomfort.

I hated that look in his eye. That look of feeling unwanted. I had seen it in my own eyes so many times as I stared at my reflection. I reach across the table to hold his hand with both of mine.

"You deserve love Lucien. If she doesn't see how hard you have been trying for her then she doesn't deserve you. I want to see you happy, fox." He gave me a loving smile at his nickname. "Thank you, little bat. You have always shown me kindness when you family hasn't. I love that about you."

Love. My heart fluttered at the word falling from his lips. It sounds so right. I want him to tell me he loves me. Tell me he'll do anything for me like I would for him.

That night, my fox came to the Town House. I had taken it over since Rhys and Feyre moved to the River House. It was empty and quiet here.

Opening the door I saw the distraught look on Lucien's face. I felt a pang in my chest. I had caused this for him. I have to stop this feeling. Have to make him better. "Lucien," I breathed out, "come in."

I drag him over to the couch and sit next to him. We're so close our thighs are touching. I drape a wing around his back for extra comfort. "What is it, fox?"

Lucien takes a deep, shuddering breath. "We broke the bond." I want to breathe out a sigh of relief, but I have to keep the facade up. "Oh Lucien, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain you're going through."

He looks at me with a pained smile, taking my hand in his, desperately kissing my knuckles. "I am hurting, yes. But Elain made realize something." I held my breath. I could feel my eyes going wide. Could this be it? Could all the work I had planned to do already be done for me by that little fool I call a friend?

"The love I have been searching for has been in front of me all along. I was never meant to be with her." Lucien slide off the couch onto his knees in front of me. My hands still trapped in his. "I love you, y/n. And I curse the Mother and the Cauldron for not putting us together. I need you little bat. I cannot bear another moment without you."

I am frozen in shock by his declaration of love. All this time I thought it would be me on my knees before him. Telling him sweet nothings and saying how we belong together. This is all I needed to hear from him.

Before anything can change I grab Lucien's face, my lips colliding with his in a heated kiss. It's all teeth and tongue. Want and desire. Lucien pulls me to his chest, holding the back of my head.

"Take me upstairs fox. Show me how much you love me." I whisper against his lips. Lucien stands, holding me by my thighs. I wrap my legs around him. I feel his hard cock pressing against my core and grind against him letting out a moan.

Lucien gently places me on the bed, careful of my wings. We undress together. Baring ourselves to each other. Feeling a bond that should've been ours.

The next morning I lay awake staring at Lucien's sleeping form. I trace his scar a few times and play with the ends of his hair that are splayed on the pillow. As his eyes slowly open he sends me a smirk. "Morning my love." Gods I want to keep him like this so I can hear his morning voice forever. It's gravely and deep, sending heat straight to my core.

"Good morning, fox. How are you feeling." Lucien thinks for a moment. "Hurting still. But I feel better with you." My smile widens. It feels genuine this time, it almost brings tears to my eyes.

Lucien moves to get up. My hand flys to grip his bicep, pulling him backdown to the mattress with all my strength. "No," I practically yell. "Stay with me? Let's stay here all day and rest." He lightly kisses my lips and pulls me to lay on his chest. "Ok little bat," he whispers.

We lay in a comfortable silence together. We trace patterns on each others bare skin until I ask, "Lucien, I know things have changed now but I need to know," My heart is pounding so hard. I hate to ask him this but I need him to feel in charge, like he wants me and I need him.

I look up at him as I force tears to line my eyes. "Are we...please say I'm yours now." His lips form a sweet pout I want to kiss. Lucien squeezes me to his body, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead. "There is no one else in this world for me. I love you, y/n. Last night was just the first of many. We have a life time ahead of us together and I don't plan on wasting another moment of it without you."

I cradle his cheek in the palm of my hand. "I love you too, Lucien. And I never want to be without you either."

[sinistergooseberries]

A Goodbye

Not beta read or anything. Literally the most self indulgent thing ive ever written. enjoy. inspired by @rambheem-is-real 's nsfw posts that got the horny wheels working.

Pairing: Varadeva

NSFW

*****

Khansaar, 2010

There it was. Laid out in front of them like an animal's carcass.

Love had never been easy for Varadha. Love had always been an enemy, a weakness and every other attribute that tainted that word. It ate away at him like a disease and spit him back out like phlegm. When love did not want him, it made him its weapon.

So he looked at its corpse. Beaten, ragged and dirty, as it was meant to be. He was the one who had ended its life, so why was he feeling like a gaping hole had been made in his heart?

And why did love look so alive in his eyes? Why did it writhe and dance and reach out and pull Varadha towards him? Why did it seem to want to live when he kept killing it? Why couldn't it just go?

"Varadha," said Deva.

"Go." A piece of his heart turned to stone as he said that.

"Varadha, listen-"

"Get out. If I ever see your face again, I'll put your head on a spike and hang it at Khansaar's doors. Go."

Well, it had achieved what he wanted it to. That writhing love stopped its dance in Deva's eyes. In its remains, all that was left was a rising anger.

Good. At least he would go out of this world in the wake of that love. No death would be more respectable.

But Varadha knew Deva more than he knew himself. That anger, so familiar to him, cooled down, replaced with another emotion

It wracked him to his bones.

Don't leave me, he wanted to say. I love you. Love me back. Please.

But he stood his ground.

Deva turned around, and walked out of the room. The entire place descended into silence. No one spoke a word. The sun set.

Varadharaja Mannar became King.

***

Khansaar, 2017

The corpses that lined the border of Khansaar reminded him of another time, when burning bodies were all you could see around you.

He could also see Deva on top of the cliff.

Love still felt like a punch to the gut.

How untamed could something be? How could it still be alive, with all of its guts spilling out? How could it be alive and fight to burn and writhe, when blobs of its blood had fallen for 32 years?

And why did it need to haunt him of all people?

Deva was just as beautiful as he had been all those years ago. Even as Varadha prepared for a proper death this time, he couldn't help but look at the one man who made him feel like he was at the heights of pleasure and in the depths of despair at the same time. How could he not when Deva looked at him with storms in his eyes?

Varadha wanted to ease them. Ease all of his worries away. He didn't care about that Aadhya girl, he didn't care about anything. He just wanted Deva to look at him with those eyes of his. He wanted to drown in them, lose himself in them and then kiss the man's head, caress away the lines on his forehead and love him like he had always wanted to.

"Get me his head," he said instead.

All the people at his disposal marched out, perhaps hoping for an intense battle.

Well, he had just sent a hundred men to their deaths. He made a silent prayer to Katteramma to forgive him.

It didn't take long for the men to be disposed of. Deva was quite singularly focused on murdering anyone involved.

As Varadha sat in his throne, the doors burst open, and in bulldozed the man.

He couldn't help it - he never could when Deva was near - he noticed Deva's minute details without even having to try. It was like a built in mechanism that couldn't be removed. A little scar there, a bit of rugged scruff here, a small mole that had been the highlight of his days during their childhood.

"Varadharaja Mannar," began Deva.

Varadha shook himself out of his little trance. What use was it being in cahoots with a dead love?

He lifted his hand to stop Deva - no, Devaratha - from continuing.

He looked at everyone else in the court. "Get out. All of you. This is between me and - Devaratha." His jaw clenched.

Everyone filed out in a few minutes. The court room, which had been filled with clamouring noise earlier, fell quiet.

Neither of them said a word. Both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Deva put his weapon down. He raised his arms up in surrender and walked towards the throne.

Varadha didn't move an inch.

His footsteps echoed in the courtroom as he made his way to the throne. Varadha's heart constricted just a little bit more with each step.

Deva stopped at the foot of the stairs. His gaze was laser focused on Varadha.

"Devaratha," Varadha said.

"Where is Aadhya?" asked Deva.

"It doesn't matter. She never did, did she?" Varadha smirked. "It was never about her."

"Then give her back." Deva's face contorted, fury radiating off him in waves.

Varadha let out a chuckle, humourless and dry. That fury would go back in again, simmer in his insides. Old habits.

"Come on, Deva. We both know how these things work. I can't give her to you, unless you give me something in return," he said instead.

Deva's fist clenched. "What do you want?"

"You."

Deva's expression went from fury, to confusion, to - something else, and then finally seemed to settle on a decision. Deva raised an eyebrow at him, as if he was asking something.

Varadha watched him squirm. In a twisted way, he felt a bit of triumph. He bet Aadhya couldn't decipher all these minute expressions.

"Come," he said.

Deva took a few cautious steps, wariness shrouding his form. Varadha, as usual, just watched.

One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The man was right in front of him. He could smell his sweat and the remnants of gunpowder. He could feel the heat radiating off of Deva.

Varadha's breath caught.

Deva seemed to register that, and a small smirk made its way onto his face. And Varadha, as usual, traced every movement that Deva made.

Eventually, their eyes met. They had to. It was inevitable for them to look at each other like the other held the answers to the universe. It was inevitable that they would search for the answers to their unspoken questions in each other's eyes.

Deva's eyes dissolved into something soft. Varadha - he was helpless. Even if he wanted the harshness of vengeance or past anger to take over his heart, Deva could simply look at him and he would forget everything.

That's just how it was.

God, he was gone. He was delusional. That was the only way he could explain - whatever this was.

How badly messed up it was that he was imagining Deva getting closer to his face, as if he was about t-

What the fuck.

***

Deva was kissing him.

Lips were pressed against his own, bearing down on them.

And Varadha's lips moved. He didn't remember it clearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of whiskey he'd had in the morning.

But Varadha moved. He put his arms around Deva's neck and kissed him back. He bit Deva's lips, opened him him up.

The sensation of his tongue felt sent a jolt through Varadha and heat pooled low in his groin.

He had longed for this. He had longed for it like a parched man in a desert for water. He wanted to be engulfed in Deva's scent, completely surrounded by it. He wanted to kiss this man to pieces, kiss him into submission.

He pulled Deva onto his lap, not leaving his mouth for even a second. The gasp that escaped his mouth just riled Varadha up.

He wanted the man to whimper. To moan and gasp and writhe against him. He wanted him to lose his control and give in.

Well, only one way to do it.

Varadha parted from his mouth. He pulled Deva by the ass and thrusted up, grunting as he did so. Deva gasped.

"Y-you fucking bastard," the other man gritted out.

"Mhm?" Varadha hummed as he rubbed their crotches once again.

Deva just kissed him again, forcefully parting his lips and biting down on them.

Varadha moaned, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making everything hazy around him.

That distinct smell of Deva clouded every other sense of his, and the only thing he could feel was the touch of his lips, the heat of his breath and that heady, heady pleasure.

Deva separated them, and a string if spit extended between their lips. Deva was breathing hard, and Varadha wasn't any better.

Deva's eyes were dilated, and the look in his eyes spoke more than he could ever express with words. Varadha's eyes trailed down to his lips, so plump and kissed. He caressed them and felt Deva suck in a breath.

God, he was beautiful.

He pressed a haphazard kiss to Deva's lips. He didn't move away after letting go. Instead, he let their temples touch.

It was a simple act, a simple touch. Yet it felt like he had finally come home, and had been laid to rest. The hand that had been on Deva's lips, now became intertwined with his hair, pulling them closer to each other. Deva sighed.

He didn't know for how long they stayed like that. Everything felt a bit hazy, and his cock wasn't in the mood for calming down either, throbbing as it was.

Deva seemed to have regained some of his senses. He leaned forward and kissed Varadha's temple. Then his eyes. Then the tip of his nose. The apples of his cheeks. The space between his upper lip and his nose. He peppered kisses across his jaw.

He reached Varadha's neck, and that is where he chose to stop. Varadha looked to the side, and caught Deva staring at him. A small smile came into Varadha's vision.

Oh.

Oh.

Next thing he knew, Deva was kissing his neck, licking it, biting it, loving it. All he could hear around him were little gasps and moans. Deva was grunting as he played with the sensitive skin on Varadha's neck.

Varadha ground against Deva, craving that sweet release. He kept thrusting and rubbing, Deva's erection an acute reminder of his arousal. He wanted this just as much as Varadha did. A little bloom of possessiveness occurred in his heart.

His hand, which had been around Deva's neck, now made its way to his crotch. He palmed the man's erection.

Deva bucked up against his hand, and the moan that came out of his mouth went straight to Varadha's cock. He pressed down on Deva further, bringing out more of those.

Not once did Deva let go of his neck. At one point, he did something with his tongue that almost made Varadha come in his fucking lungi.

He pulled him away from his neck. Deva looked dazed and was about to dive back in, but Varadha pulled at the man's hair. Deva let out a moan.

He looked so fucked out. They hadn't even put each other's cocks inside each other. Something warmed in Varadha's heart at that.

Deva got up. Varadha stopped himself from whining at the loss.

Deva kneeled in front of him.

"What-"

"Shh. Let me do my thing." He placed a finger on Varadha's lips.

This is probably the last time I'll love you went unsaid, but they both understood it.

He took away his hands to work on Varadha's lungi. He untied it, and looked him in the eyes while doing it. Varadha didn't shy away.

Deva looked down at Varadha's twitching cock, the thin cloth of the boxers the only thing separating it from him. He licked his lips.

Varadha palmed his cock through his boxers, little moans escaping his throat.

Deva looked mesmerised by it all. It made Varadha feel a certain type of way.

He placed a hand on Varadha's. They moved together, touching where the other didn't, rubbing where the other didn't, caressing where the other didn't.

"Don't look at me," Varadha breathed in between gasps.

"Where else will I look?" Deva murmured.

Varadha didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on Deva.

Deva pulled down his boxers, and Varadha's cock sprang up. He hissed at the sudden sensation of cold wind.

His - whatever - seemed to notice and came to his aid.

"It's aroused," said Deva.

"Shut the fuck up and suck it," replied Varadha.

And Deva did just that.

***

Aftermath

"Did you just have sex with him?" asked Aadhya, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She had the most incredulous expression on her face.

Deva, to save his ass and reputation, did not reply.

"You did," she said in disbelief. "Oh my god, you went and fucked your fucking ex. What the actual fuck."

Deva stayed quiet.

"Unbelievable," she said.

After a few minutes, though she asked, "Was he that good?"

*****

ummm so that was that. i just wanted an excuse to write porn yall. i hope its not all bad. i hope u find some alright things!

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Again, I hope you don't mind but... Finn (Specifically when he was in his teen years) having a close friend of his disappear through a mirror universe for 2 years, only to come back being completely hostile to him. How would react since he used to have a crush on her before. (Him dating Flame Princess to forget her at first but ends up falling anyways..)

Now that shes back, she absolutely hates him and now he try to wins her back again. (Its up to you how he does it) and later he found out that the reason why she became hostile towards him was her time at the mirrorverse, Finn was completely evil there!

Some angst and eventually fluff.. This will be the last request, I swear!

… DANG. I love that idea. That would make an amazing fanfic.

Also you don’t have to stop requesting! I like writing… in my free time.

Reader is female.

After torturous years without you, Finn was almost ready to call it quits with his feelings on you.

Flame Princess didn’t work out and everything seemed… off.

He missed you, glob he wanted you back with him.

Finn never stopped searching for you. It wasn’t until he was taking a bath in the river that he found you.

You seemed more matured, hostile even. Your appearance was rugged and you had a scar on your neck.

When he saw you, he didn’t care he was naked. He ran, well swam, right over to you and attempted to hug you.

To defend yourself you pulled up your bo staff and held it close to his face. The look of hatred on your face made Finn freeze in fear.

“Get back.” You ordered coldly.

“Y/n!…. You’re okay. Oh.. thank glob, you’re okay!” He was so happy that he didn’t care he was crying in front of you.

You shook your head in anger. “I’m not falling for this trick again. You are a disgrace. My Finn was a pure hero, and you’ll never be him!”

Your words hurt, but he was confused. What had you gone through? Was there someone copying him?

He tried to get closer, but you held your staff tightly and back up quickly. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Finn kept getting closer as you grew more distant. “Stop it! Why aren’t you giving this up?! Giving me up?! Why can’t…”

Tears started to stream down your face. It was such a stressful day and this was still so confusing even though you knew it had been years.

“You’re not my Finn! You know this ain’t my world!”

You kept yelling, but you were still ignored.

In reality you had no idea that this was your actual Finn. You didn’t know you were back in Ooo.

Finn shakily stepped forward before he raised his hand. You flinched back, but he brushed past your weapon and cupped your face.

You froze at the feeling and his thumb rubbed your skin.

“…”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you…”

More tears fell down your face as you finally let your weapon down. It fell with a clank as your fell forward into Finn’s hand.

He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your chapped lips, your tears hitting his face.

Your hands went up and also cupped his face, not as gentle as he was since you feared that this was all just a dream.

A sob escaped from your throat as you pulled away. Your vision was blurry, but you could still make out Finn. He smiled with a shaky lip before he started to press kisses all over your face.

His hair tickled your face but you knew that this was home. That your had your Finn back.

“… put some clothes on.”

AHHH I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!!!

Seriously you should make an Adventure fanfic like this because I would read it!

Thank you for requesting!!

[ornii]

hey i love your writing ^^ can i request a wednesday addams x reader that is like shoto todoroki? You know the half white and red hair, with the powers of ice and fire and that he had the scar, that Wednesday is interested in him

English is not my language so I got this from the translator

Frostbite

Wednesday Addams X Male Reader

Fire and Ice, complete opposites in their own regards, all put into one person, bound for greatness.

Winter, the coldest of the seasons but also has its own warming aspects, when it came to Christmas, or new years, it also had bubbly warm feelings inside. Unfortunately for some that wasn’t the case and Christmas was simply a colder day than usual. And for (Y/n), it was a season to focus on management of his powers.

The winter forest was beautiful in the daylight, the snow falling, the wintering trees devoid of leaves, the open flooring made perfect place for practice. (Y/n) stood on a small flat rock to avoid the cold, taking his Nevermore coat to avoid any tears, he combs back his multicolored hair to focus on a single dead tree. He lifts his left side up and stomps on the ground, suddenly, the cold ground froze over and made a path straight for the tree. I’ve formed along a stagnant path to the tree and spikes of ice struck you and pierced the tree.

“Okay..” he mutters to himself, he takes a deep breath and aims his right hand forward at the same tree and begins to look more, concerned. The heat emits from his arm more fiercely, steam sizzles from his palm and arm and flames quickly dance along his skin and blast a wave at the tree, incinerating it. He relaxes but looks at his arm and sees the flames are still dancing on his skin, he pats them away and quickly checks his face By patting it too, thankfully no flames, but he feels the rugged skin, the slight sting at the wound, the burn that’s still there. He sighs and shakes the fear off, and turns to grab his coat, but was suddenly halted by the presence of Wednesday.

“You.” She says, much to the shock of (Y/n). He calms down and stands there.

“What?” He responds, and Wednesdays eyes trailed over to the flames and ice nearby.

“Your abilities to manipulate fire and ice are, impressive. I’d like to understand more about your power.” She says, (Y/n) stares at her for a moment, he walks past her to pick up his coat.

“You’re really damn nosy..” he says putting his coat on, letting the warmth slowly envelop his arms.

“Im not some circus act for you to take notes on.” He takes a few steps to leave, Wednesdays’ cold demeanor was even colder than his ice.

“Your name is (Y/n) (L/n), at birth you had powers like your father and mother. But you were permanently scarred by your mother at a young age, leaving you mentally and physically scarred I assume.” She says analyzing him, (Y/n) scowls hard, but takes a deep cool breath.

“Stop stalking me.” He says.

“Don’t flatter yourself I stalk my parents as well.”

“…how is that helping you— whatever… if you’re here to watch me snap again, you’re too late.” He turns to leave but Wednesdays words cut him off.

“I came to understand you.” She says, which causes him to halt, he slowly turns back to face her once more.

“…what?” He asked, and she approached.

“You’re different, scarily different from others, I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you feel so angry and bitter. I find.. interest in you.” She admits.

“You, you’re interested in me?” He asks with a small smirk.

“Stop reading into it… I simply wish to, understand you.”

This is the first time someone’s been trying to, understand him instead of poking him to see him explode again, and he couldn’t help but feel, relief.

“Okay Wednesday, Understand away…but don’t take too long in the cold, you’ll get frostbite.

“..I’m looking forward to it..”

[saucyjothoughts]

I saw you hinting at Chantal x Jan. yes please!🥵🙏

(Original post here)

Chantel also likes to pay for certain services sometimes.

(Nsfw Jantel under the cut)

His face was gorgeous. Rugged and masculine with a hint of playful softness in his pink lips and sparkling eyes. He intrigued her instantly long before he'd gotten into this profession.

He'd been a gift from Miha. Allowing her to play with someone else. He didn't know who he bought, just allowed her to pick her stud and he would pay. The only rule was she had to return to his bed at night.

He was so young. Young enough to be her son and yet he looked at her as if she herself was 20 years younger. His hair was pulled up in a bun as he went down on her, his smooth, deep voice telling her how beautiful she was, how good she tasted, how much he liked being inside her. How he'd always liked her.

He had more energy than Miha, able to fuck her hard and fast, in a way she hadn't been fucked in years. His hands were softer too but with the same callouses she was familiar with. A guitarist's hands. It made her like him even more.

When she returned to her husband she was still aroused. Her own eagerness seemed to help him, the idea of a younger model between her legs making him want to prove himself to her. He made love to her, better than he had in years.

The next time she paid herself. She asked for it to be slower, for the young man to make her feel adored.

He spent his time undressing her. Kissing every line and mole and scar on her body, his beard tickling her skin. He ran his fingers through her grey hair, finding nothing but beauty in the silver strands.

He unclasped her bra with one hand, a silvery sheer set Miha insisted she wear just for these meet ups. She knew his initials were embroidered on the inside too and it sent a thrill through her that another man was removing the lace and exposing her body for his hungry eyes.

He licked her breasts, sucked her nipples and told her how beautiful she was in the richest, smoothest voice she'd heard in a while.

"I always liked going to your house you know," he smiled as he pulled off her panties, "You always made me feel so welcome."

"I tried my best." She responded, her manicured nails gripping his hair as he licked her cunt.

Some small bit of guilt twisted inside her when he rolled on the condom and lined himself up. She gripped his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering for a moment what she was doing fucking Jan, of all people. But then he drove his cock home and anything that wasn't pleasure left her mind.

[akwolfgrl]

Part 2 LFT

I will when I have more chapters post on ao3 but I need a bit of help first. I'm not sure if I'm writing the charters well enough.

"Can you fuck as good as you fight?" Were words that Sanji had not been expecting to come out of that man's mouth, and completely sober.

Sanji stared at the man of front of him, while he loved women, they were beautiful, soft, wonderful, they were they moved, thire soft skin and just everything. Sanji also liked men. It wasn't as expected, so he was used to drunken one night stands until Zeff put a stop to it a few years ago after one too many times coming back still drunk. Puberty had been a nightmare. Zoro was absolutely his type, thick muscular body, the scar across his chest that made him look rugged and dangerous. Sanji wanted to lick and mark every inch of the man's skin. Sanji put his cigarette out and slid around the table, placing a knee on each side of the swordsman's legs, leaning closer with a smirk.

"Hmm I suppose I could be nice a give a taste now, if you like what you get come back later tonight and I'll show just how good I am," Sanji spoke with confidence he didn't have.

"Well then, go on and show me," Marimos hands left the back of his head and came to rest on hips, his fingers gripping his ass. "Or are you all talk and no action?" He spoke with a smug grin that Sanji longed to kiss off.

"Shut up,"

"Make me," Sanji slammed his mouth against the other man lips, already hungry for a taste.

Zoro pulled him closer, opening his mouth so their tongues could continue their fight instead of their words. Sanji used this opportunity to slide his hands under Zoro's shirt, feeling up those strong, large muscles of his. Only marred or rather improved upon by that gogras scar that Sanji was dying to taste of. Speaking of taste, the swordsmen tasted of sake, melon and omaboish, Sanji knew he tasted of saffron, seafood, and cigarettes. He was already hard in dress pants and could feel the other man's erection as well. It was nice that he wasn't the only one affected by just a kiss.

Suddenly, his hair is being pulled, his head being yanked back. Snaji let out an embarrassing . sound he didn't know he could make that noise. He didn't know he'd like his hair being pulled. Zoro kept his hand fisted in his hair, attacking his neck with kisses and nips sucking a mark into his skin. Snaji shudders at this point he has lost all control of this situation.

"Ah! Fuck me!" He found himself saying.

"I intend to,"

"Sanjiiii! I'm hungry!" A third voice entered the chat, the voice of their captain begging for food, occupied by the slamming of the galley door.

The hand in his hair released him as they both stared in shock at their captain. They had gotten carried away and subsequently got caught. Sanji wondered how far they would have gone if they hadn't been interrupted. Luffy clearly saw them but paid them no mind as he wandered closer to where Sanji had been cooking.

"Shit!" Sanji scrambled away from the situation only to hit the table which he had forgotten about with his back. "Don't touch anything Luffy!"

Marimo moved his hands to his waist and lifted him up and off of him. Sanji immediately ran towards the jar of jerky he had made. It wasn't his best work since there hadn't been enough time for a proper marinade, but it was mostly for Luffy anyway.

"Dinners not ready yet, take some of this," Sanji shoved a handful of jerky into Luffy's hands. "Dinner will be done in about half an hour,"

"Yay meat! Thanks, Sanji!" Luffy chearded a large girn on his face. He head twords the door. "Bye, Zoro!" Luffy shut the door behind him as he shoveled jerky into his mouth.

"Shitty swordsmen, our! I don't have any more time for you!" Sanji turned his attention back to the man he had just made out with.

"Chi, no need to be testy," The green haired man stood up and also headed for the door. "I'll be back for more tonight, we will finish what we started. I need to hear what other notices come out of that pretty mouth of yours," Before Sanji could respond he was once more alone in the kitchen.

[amywhereyouwant]

Some TOH HCs I wanted to share

There are a LOT of them, so They're under the read more for your scrolling convenience

Luz

-Uses She/They pronouns

-Would watch the entirety of Sword Art Online just to be able to shit on it properly

-Eats way too much Shredded Cheese even though she’s Lactose Intolerant

-Has made a Your mom joke to Willow only to remember she doesn’t have one

-Mains King in Tekken and made a custom attire trying to make it look like the other King

-Screenpeeks religiously in Split Screen Multiplayer

-Predicted Hecazura 2 books into the series, still won’t shut up about it

-Relatively known Digital Artist, her blog probably took off when she started making art of the Demon Realm 

-Hates baking

-Helps Amity bake out of the kindness of her heart(Also seeing Amity enjoying herself is really nice)

-Had a cold once, hasn’t had a Human Realm illness since

-Has SH scars from her depressed period back in the human realm(S3E1), still ashamed over them

-Quotes Memes constantly, only Hunter understands what she’s talking about

-Cracked a rib tripping on a rug on her way to bed

Amity

-Absolutely hates Bugs, like, genuinely despises them

-Does not know how computers work, but still tries to use Luz’s laptop to look up date ideas

-Can and will dress as the most stereotypical Witch ever

-Adopted(All 3 Blight Kids are in my HC)

-Likes to bake

-Does not know how to bake

-Gets sick constantly

-Works out a lot so she can help out with rebuilding the Isles(and also a little bit for Luz)

-Used to apologise a lot for minor things(Pre-timeskip)

-REALLY Bummed she didn’t get to see Titan Luz

-Watched the barbie movie the same day Gus watched Oppenheimer

Gus

-Goes nonverbal when stressed out, uses Illusions and his palisman to communicate

-Cried for hours when he finished the last Cosmic Frontier book, even though it was a happy ending

-Likes the idea of Professional Wrestling, but wishes the fights were to the death

-Quotes Cosmic Frontier as a Vocal Stim

-Dramatically perishes in Matt’s arms on the regular

-Headcanons O'Bayley to look exactly like Hunter just for the memes

-Thinks Human 2D Animation is the most beautiful thing to have ever been created

-Watched Across the Spider-Verse and Begged for Luz to draw a Spider-Suit for him, she did one for everyone

-Got really jealous when everyone else got flapjack tattoos, then he realised he could just make one of his own with an Illusion

-Got insanely mad when he learned about Human Discrimination(“How can you hate someone for something they can’t change? That’s ridiculous!”)

-Watched Oppenheimer the same day Amity and Hunter watched the Barbie Movie

Hunter

-LOVES Dino Nuggies

-Didn’t know Dinosaurs were real for a while until Luz showed them to him, Velociraptors are his favourite because “They’re like Wolves but Lizards!” (They’re not)

-Has a tumblr account where he posts about Wolves, Luz is his only follower

-Definitely has a Fursona

-Kicks Luz’s ass at most video games, except for Halo 2 specifically(I wonder why)

-”Will you go out with me?” “Hunter we’ve been dating for a year” “Oh.”

-Thinks Huggbees’ How it’s actually made videos are 100% Legit and honest

-Made Willow a Flower Shirt to match his Wolf Shirt

-Wears Willow’s Flower Shirt he made

-Imagine Dragons is his favourite band

-Has Epilepsy

-Steals Willow’s dresses sometimes

-Found Nicole Coenen on YouTube, showed her to luz “She looks kinda like Amity!”(Nobody else sees the resemblance)

-Probably plays a LOT of Roblox

-Watched the Barbie Movie with Amity(Luz forced him to)

-Has seen every single vine there is(Thank the Titan for Vine Compilations on YouTube)

-Any kind of facial hair he grows is really patchy so he just goes clean shaven for convenience

-Snuck food during TtT even though he was 100% allowed to eat normally

-Bananas do exist in the Demon Realm, Hunter has just never learned that they do

-Gets visits from the Spirits of the other Golden Guards in his dreams

Willow

-Tackled someone to the ground when they only slightly bumped into Hunter(We stan a protective queen)

-Feeds her palisman doggie treats, nobody knows why

-Filled Camila’s entire back garden with way too many plants during TtT, they’re still there despite not being watered for a while

-Made a Garland made of both Demon and Human Realm plants for Hunter on their anniversary

-Has no real idol/role model

-Happily Listens to everyone else ramble about their interests

-Wears Hunter’s Wolf Shirt

-Calls Hunter “Hun” as a short for his name, started doing it even more after she figured out what it actually meant

-Pranks people she doesn’t like by putting giant Grape Vines around their house

-Held a presentation about plant care for the Gravesfield Gardener Society

-Thinks most Human Sports are boring(Except for Hockey and Roller Derby)

Vee

-Pulls off some crazy ass cosplays

-Knows how to drive Camila’s car perfectly, still has no idea how it actually works though

-Laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe first time she heard Metal Pipe Fall Sound Effect

-Considers Luz to be her Sister, Camila burst into tears and hugged her when she called Luz “Big Sis” in front of her for the first time

-Plays Minecraft on Camila’s home PC, has spent tons of time on Hypixel and built a little shrine for the other basilisks on a private world

-Takes after Luz in a lot of ways

-Is way better at Spanish than Luz, flexes about it constantly(Nobody really cares)

-Had no idea how to tell Masha she was a Basilisk when they confessed to her(Masha knew long before she told them)

-Is really cuddly in Basilisk form, not so much when shapeshifted(“I don’t really feel like it’s myself”)

-Her first kiss with Masha was really awkward, she apologised like 45 times and cried because it wasn’t good

-Steven Universe is a canon IP in the universe, so she got really confused when Amethyst sounded EXACTLY like her

I have no idea why I made this

[cas-backwards-tie]

Congratulations!!! You deserve all the followers! 💗

Do you think Mills or Flip rocks the middle part better?

Do you prefer bearded SNL Kylo or shaved Kylo?

Do you go for long haired villains like Jacques or short haired good guys like Ronnie lol?

Do you like nerdy like Gucci or rugged like Flip?

Speaking of long hair, do you think Jacques or Clyde does it better?

Would you rather he be super hot in a movie but play the villain and die, or look meh and be the good guy and live?

Thank you so much, Shannon! 🥹🫂 Have I earned the right to call you, Shan? Idk if that’s a nickname you like to go by or not but I thought I’d try it ❤️ and omg you went all out! Ahhh 😄🥰

Admittedly, I instinctively went to Millie Bobby Brown when I first read that and was confused until I saw the gif and remembered about how 65 is coming out soon! 🙌🏻🎉 Oof, bringing the hard questions I see. 🤔 I’m gonna have to go with Flip, simply because it’s a little more styled and has a little bit of wave to it 💕 it somehow feels more natural, as opposed to some of the clips from 65 look like they tried to straighten it a bit and I don’t know, that’s just my take! Wbu?

This is a funny question because lately I have noticed the guys I’ve been making moves on recently have been more bearded than not, but I actually prefer clean-shaven Kylo 🥹 Maybe it’s because of his chin, or the way it slightly elongates his face and extenuates his scar, or makes him look younger, or even simply because the goatee/mustache combo isn’t always my fave… but clean-shaven for sure ❤️

This next question is tripping me up because I feel like Kylo would be considered long-haired and 😫😭👏🏻 he’s my favorite- my boy, my honey- the one I relate to most. Another villain that I could think of, because admittedly I still never finished The Last Duel… is Jafar, and he’s a catch too (look-wise at least), but in my own life I’d say I tend to go for more short-haired good guys like Ronnie!

This one is also hard (albeit I also had to look up the definition of rugged simply bc I wanted to know what it is rather than go by what I vaguely know it as/the vibe) cause I could go both ways, again. I feel the boys I’ve tended to like throughout life have mostly fallen under the nerdy category (granted I also have yet to see House of Gucci 😭 don’t kill me 🙈), but I’m never opposed to a rugged man. I live and love for rugged men, tbh.

Mm… I don’t know if it’s because I feel like Clyde’s style suits him in a more natural-looking way, because Jacques has really beautiful hair as well- and it could also be length, perhaps, but I think I’d go with Clyde 🥹

I mean… 👀🤧😵‍💫🙊😭🙈 could we not just say (TROS?) Anyhow, I would probably just say super hot villain simply because I think he does an interesting job as the villain and is super compelling to watch. Either way I’d be happy, because in my eyes he always looks ‘super hot’, but good guys are overrated imo. When it comes to acting, at least.

Thank you so so much for asking all these wonderful questions, Shannon! I hope you’re having an amazing start to the year and are doing well ❤️ I’d love to catch up sometime soon! I appreciate your support and friendship, always.

Send Me Two Things and I’ll Pick One