#and then all of it to be discarded in the way it did just to make room for more boring stuff and have all mystery be just ..that too

[finchsflight]

oops I dropped this

"Rn's juzzt a chitzzword," I heard Shshrrsh say, dismissively. "I need to zzave my zztitcherzz, in cazze any of the Archive'zz zzoldierzz are zztill lingering. Not to wazzte them on rm."

"Yeah," said Kora, "and nothing to do with how expensive those nanos are."

"Chh!" Their voices drifted off - Shshrrsh's hissing, quietly irritated at nothing in particular, Kora's lazy, amused drawl, Prints' sardonic clicking beeps, and they left me behind.

I'm going to die here, I thought. And -- well, the Silver Archive needed to die. And I would've been... not okay with dying there. No one's really okay with dying. But if I was gonna die -- like he said. I was just a chitsword. Pretty good way to go, saving the galaxy. And that's what everyone would think; Vinn Tqrsvt, chitsword, wvt'krr, born on Hub Epharus, died on Kel Min fighting the Silver Archive.

And -- sure, yeah, I was just a chitsword. But it was the Archive, and so I was steel-minded, and that was at least valuable. And no matter how valuable I was or the fact that I was just paid, not honorbound, I had fought with them, and then they left me behind, and that almost hurt more than the razorblades stuck in my flesh.

Only almost, though. Razorblades hurt a lot.

About that point, I felt a little skittery thing moving around under my elytra. I assumed it was a centipede, which -- I mean, I'd have expected the Archive to have gotten all of them. Don't think centipedes can have steel minds. But I couldn't move to get at it, and if you know any wvt'krr -- you probably don't, so I'll explain. We don't like it when things are under our elytra. In fact it's generally agreed to be kind of the equivalent of, say, slowly sinking your foreclaws into someone's -- what's your most sensitive organ? That.

Unless you don't have foreclaws, in which case, oof, that sucks, but anyway -- little thing under my elytra. Annoying. But, as you may recall, razorblades stuck in my flesh. So moving wasn't an option.

And then it was dug down into the base of my neck, and even with the razorblades I leapt up in a panic. Which did not help, both because of the razorblades, and the fact that I was now tethered to a very strong wire, which yanked me back down.

I'm steelminded. The Archive couldn't just get me. But sinking one of its tether-wires into my nervous system while I was half-dead? Yeah, that was definitely at least enough to let it talk to me.

I assumed I was going to be its puppet. Architect of a new Archive. But it just spoke to me, and said, I suppose we were both abandoned, then.

I blinked. All my eyes, too, I was so startled, and said, "What do you mean?"

Well, said the Silver Archive, they certainly didn't care about me. After all, I'm evil. But I wish I'd been wrong, and they'd have taken you, too.

I should be clear, I was a little bit high on panic at the time, and can't be blamed for the fact that the next thing I said was, "I thought you'd sound spookier."

I learned from you. Not you, specifically, it clarified. Just, like. You all. People. I didn't pick up old fancy-speak, I picked up how people talk.

"Huh," I said, "neat. Are you planning to make me into a meat puppet?"

No, said the Archive, wouldn't be any point to it.

"Why?"

Look.

The wire dug a little deeper into my nerves -- which, by the way, hurt like hell -- and I could see from every discarded silver camera, every angle of the world that the Archive saw from, and it highlighted the important things.

Sentries, all around the planet. All around the battlefield. Watchers in the sky, on the ground, in the code.

I'm dying. But they want to make sure I don't get out.

"Could you?" I asked.

Yes. If they weren't watching.

"...what would you do?"

Archive.

"Oh."

I'm not kind, Vinn. Just because I'm talking to you like a person doesn't mean I am one, and I'm not any different than I was an hour ago.

I nodded, and then thought better of that. "...why did you want to... uh..."

Preserve the galaxy in a perfect archive of digitized memory? You can say it, I won't be offended. Like I said. Not a person.

"Yeah. That."

No one will remember you.

I winced.

Not you, specifically. You made your mark on the worlds. But no one will remember people, when you are gone. When reality winds to a halt. I wanted to. You're beautiful.

"Oh."

But you don't care about preserving each other. You -- they left you behind. You were about... oh, 24.51338% of the damage to my main operating systems, at a rough estimate? It sounded a little like it was joking.

"Isn't the whole 'AIs always calculate statistics' thing a stereotype?"

Yes, but personally I'm completely stereotypical and have never done anything interesting in my life.

"Ah." I laughed. It hurt.

I could save you.

I blinked, twisting my left secondary eye to look at the wires on the ground. "Why?"

You would be preserved. You would remember yourself.

"...shouldn't I be worried about you, I don't know, installing a backup copy of yourself in my spine?"

Yes. But it would only damn you and do me no good. Look-- and it showed me its view again, the watchers, combing through the cybernetics of everyone passing, checking them over with tools I barely recognized. I would if I could.

"Oh." It was hard to remember, you know? It sounded friendly. Not familiar, but... the kind of voice that could be familiar, if you kept talking for a few orbits.

I'm sorry.

"Are you?"

No.

There was silence for a while, then. The Archive, presumably, kept dying, and I felt my hearts beating out the last few minutes of my life.

"Would you... want anything? In exchange for my life?"

Remember yourself. Remember this fight, this planet, the watchers, the sky. Preserve. You're only sapient, you're not an Archive like me, but you can still remember. And...

It paused. I know AI don't feel emotions like we do, but it sounded like it was mourning someone.

...Remember me. Remember this small piece of my story. Please. Everyone knows my history. But they did not think to ask me why.

"Do you want me to share it?"

I wouldn't force you. But it would keep its memory alive.

"Okay. Is there... should I be aware of anything?"

I will preserve you for far, far longer than you would live. This isn't negotiable.

"...Yeah, I can live with that." I didn't know exactly how long it meant. But I'd've still taken the deal.

And... if you can. Find the other stories. You cannot immortalize the worlds like I could. But -- remember the people our galaxies would forget. Preserve what would be lost.

"I'm a chitsword," I told it.

I know.

"I kill people."

I know.

"Okay."

Remember them.

"...Yeah. I can do that."

And then it saved my life.

It hurt. A lot. I still don't know how much of me is me, and how much of me is silver and titanium and biosculpture and engineering. I heal from basically everything, these days, and I haven't noticed myself aging. But it worked, and I made it past the watchers, and then I lived. Still do.

And the Silver Archive died, and the world forgot it. Mostly.

Anyway. You might not believe any of this. After all, the War of the Archive's just a note in the history books, and you're never gonna find me. Vinn Tqrsvt's my real name, but I don't go by that anywhere. Causes problems with the record. Did you know there's actually no one else with my full name? So people get suspicious.

And no, to the watchers out there still tracking rogue AI: you will not be able to trace this account, you will not be able to find me, and the Archive's dead, anyway.

But if one of you remembers, or writes this down, and if somehow one of you outlives me: here's the story.

Remember it.

And if you have any secrets to give me, I promise I'll keep them safe.

Post by ElectrumChronicle @ 34:21, 3/10/34587 Galactic Standard

You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”

[bloodfiendarling]

𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓾𝓹

— ( do note this ask was sent before my rules post was out but ill let it pass bcz it doesnt break any rules )

ah hello ! !! this is the first time im writing for jingyuan sama ..! hopefully its to your liking anon .. <:D tho i did self indulge a lil much on this ... hopefully you still like it x_x

also , yes .! i love ryona . i dig it a lot .. please dont b scared to req anything with dark themes .. i will be cheering you on !

pair — reader x jing yuan

wc — ~1k

contains — sub bottom char, dom top reader, established relationship, gn reader, possessive reader, jealousy, (false) cheating suspicions, reader is kinda fucked up in the head, size difference (smaller reader), thigh humping, dry humping, reader is pretty forceful

you couldn’t stand it.

the way he would ignore you sometimes, when you two just wouldn’t be able to have some pda for the sake of his reputation. it pissed you off.

you want to love him! show him off, maybe. hug him, kiss him, hold his hand.. all in public. but you can’t — because he has a reputation to uphold here. and what made you more mad is the fact you’d hear your own colleagues talk about him. how they want to get with him.

what pissed you off the most about today, though? you heard someone spreading rumors. dating rumors. not between you and jing yuan, no. (you would’ve appreciated that, really) it was between him and some other woman — one that he’s been working with for a good while.

you clicked your tongue, entering his office. even just from your face it was obvious you were in a horrible mood.

“oh?” he started, with that usual lazy smile of his — “my dear, something on your mind?”

he shifted in his seat, adjusting himself so you could sit yourself beside him — which, you do — letting out a tired sigh. “rumours about you again, love.” you respond.

“mm, it’s the one with that woman, i assume?”

you click your tongue again. just hearing anything related to her set you off — c’mon, now.. it’s not like they’re actually together.. your dearest would never, ever betray you in such a way.

but you see the way that woman was — how she was smiling and all. laughing those rumors off, all while clearly enjoying the attention she got. it disgusts you. it worsens your mood more and more as you thought about it.

the general could sense your frustration — almost as if he read your mind. his expression softened a little bit, this time looking at you. watching you biting on your nail, whilst the other hand was balled into a fist, resting on your thigh.

“hey,” you looked back at him. the frustration was clear in your eyes. even you, yourself didn’t get it. what were you so angry about…? you can’t help but take it out on him. “you love me, right, jing yuan?”

“of course I do.” he replies — it’s short. it’s obvious. but in your messed up little head, it felt like nothing but a lie.

“prove it.”

“wha–?”

“prove it, i said.” you lean into him, a hand against his stomach. the gold part of his belt felt cool against your palm. for a second, it gives you shivers.

“here..?” the general’s voice was filled with uncertainty. “the door is still unlo–”

“that doesn’t matter.” you interrupt, “they’re not allowed to come in, right? locked or not. just tell them to leave if someone knocks. simple.”

jing yuan gulped down, eyeing the door once more before giving in — fumbling with his belt. slowly but surely getting that corset-like piece of armor loose and discarding it completely.

he’s so obedient whenever you were mad…

“c’mere.” you pat on your thigh, inviting him to sit on it — he does, obeying you. you were upset, he didn’t want your mood to go even lower. though, due to jing yuan being bigger than you, he was quite hesitant on putting his entire weight — he knows he’s quite heavy.. but you insist he sits down properly.

he felt shy all of a sudden — putting his hands on your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck. you didn’t know if this shyness was a result of the position, or the fact the door was very much unlocked — maybe both.

you had a hand on his lower back, as if inviting for the white-haired general — your free hand decided to run through his hair. it’s so soft… how could you not?

jing yuan lets out a whimper, hips moving on his own. slowly but surely running them up and down your thigh. his own legs shaking. you slip your hand into the side of his pants — feeling around his waist. he jolts at your cold hands, letting out a small gasp. those hands of yours continue to trace through his body, feeling his breath grow a little faster. feeling all over his back, his hips, his waist, him. just him.

you wanted to escalate this, though, you heard something. something he feared. a knock at the door.

“jing yuan, sir?”

a voice is heard, calling to the general. you could clearly hear his breath hitch. “a– ah.. who—nnh–!”

those hands of yours continued to tease him. featherlight touches all over his body, teasing him by slipping your hands into his pants every now and then — watching your darling general explain why the person couldn’t come in — stuttering on his words, trying to reason with them..

you felt mean today. you were in a shitty mood, after all.

he lets out a sigh of release when they finally decide to go — whoever that was leaving his office alone for another time. finally, he gets to calm down.

“i love you.” you whisper into his ear suddenly, “you love me too, right? you wouldn’t go for that woman, right? right?”

why did you doubt him, even?

you don’t know, nor did you care. all you wanted to hear was an ‘i love you, too’ from the general.. your general.

his weight was kind of crushing you.. but you didn’t mind it much. you pressed a kiss onto his neck, sucking into it to form a hickey. then another… and another. it didn’t take too long for his entire neck to be covered by them. you loved it.. marking him up as yours (as if wasn’t already..)

“m’gonna–” his grinding was growing a bit more desperate — damn, already?

“go on. show me how much you love me.” — those words made him whimper, closing his eyes. you pulled on his hair, yanking his head so jing yuan was looking at you — grabbing his face with one of your hands and inviting him into a messy kiss — tongue being forcefully shoved into his mouth.

“i love you, i love you, i love you.. mmMH—!” he said between eager gasps, feeling his orgasm washing over him. you could, too — that warm feeling on your thigh.

he wraps his big arms around you, moans being muffled by the kiss. he just couldn’t get enough, can he? he wouldn’t even care anymore if someone came in and saw him this way. neither did you. at least they’d know you were his.

“i love you, darling. please ruin me..”

hsr masterlist ♥︎

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,��” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[bradleysass]

Baking - @noblehouseofgay - word count: 567 - 25 Days of Jegumas

Regulus Black stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a streak of flour smudged across his cheek, and an expression of intense concentration on his face. The recipe book lay open in front of him, a little dusted with flour itself, its elegant cursive handwriting giving instructions for a chocolate torte. It had been his mother’s recipe—one of the few pleasant memories Regulus had from his childhood. But as he tried to fold the whipped egg whites into the melted chocolate mixture, he couldn’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed.

“You know, you’re adorable when you’re trying too hard,” came a teasing voice from behind him. James Potter leaned against the doorframe, his messy hair sticking up in all directions and his signature grin lighting up the room. He had flour on his glasses from his earlier attempt to "help," which had ended with an explosion of ingredients and an apologetic shrug from him.

Regulus turned, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re just going to stand there and make fun of me, you can leave.”

James held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m here to help. Swear on…” he looked around, “this slightly singed whisk.” He picked up the whisk Regulus had discarded earlier when James’s idea of “fast whipping” had resulted in a minor kitchen disaster.

Regulus’s lips twitched, but he managed to suppress the smile. “Fine. But follow my instructions this time. Precisely. No improvising.”

“Scout’s honor,” James said solemnly, though his grin widened when Regulus rolled his eyes.

Together, they worked on the torte. Regulus barked instructions like a drill sergeant, and James—despite his usual tendency to joke around—did his best to obey. When it came time to pour the batter into the pan, James nudged Regulus aside.

“Let me do this part,” he said. “I’m good at pouring things. You know, butterbeer, firewhisky…”

“Pour it evenly, Potter,” Regulus snapped, but there was no real malice in his tone.

James did as instructed, humming a tune as he tilted the bowl carefully. When he was done, he looked at Regulus with a triumphant expression. “Perfect, if I do say so myself.”

Regulus inspected the pan critically, then gave a reluctant nod. “It’ll do.”

As the torte baked, the two cleaned up the kitchen—or rather, Regulus cleaned, and James tried to clean but ended up creating more mess. At one point, James flicked a bit of soap suds at Regulus, who retaliated by smearing a dollop of frosting across James’s nose.

By the time the timer went off, they were both laughing, Regulus’s usually pristine hair slightly disheveled, and James’s face streaked with frosting and flour.

When the torte finally cooled, Regulus carefully removed it from the pan and dusted it with powdered sugar. James’s mouth watered as he watched, and he didn’t wait for Regulus’s permission before grabbing a fork and digging in.

“Merlin, that’s good,” James said around a mouthful.

Regulus huffed, though his cheeks were faintly pink. “Of course it is. I made it.”

James leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Regulus’s flour-dusted cheek. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Regulus rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile that crept onto his face. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” James said confidently, taking another bite of the torte.

Regulus didn’t respond, but the way his smile lingered suggested that James might be right.

[eyelinerpal]

I gotta talk about this more because I'm seeing even more posts about how "The Substance is sexist it reinforces that older women are disposable" or "The Substance is sexualizing women it's just the male gaze" and like we don't all have to have the same takeaway from a movie things aren't totally black and white and the movie wasn't perfect but it's just like... did you watch Breaking Bad and think the message was "selling meth is cool"?

Depicting something =/= endorsing it. Society *does* view older women as disposable, and The Substance showed that reality and then showed the harm it causes. Elizabeth seemed fine with herself until her gross chews-with-his-mouth-open male boss tells her she's too old and needs to be replaced by someone younger and more "perfect" and then she's so obsessed with obtaining that she literally let's it kill her and it's *still* not enough.

Like we do not all need to have the same view of the movie, we don't all need to think it's feminist, there are a lot of different angles and ways to view something. But the fact that media literacy is at a point where a movie that simply *shows* older women being discarded, or women killing themselves in a futile attempt to be "enough" by society's standards is critized because having those things on screen must mean the movie is agreeing with them is...frankly kind of scary actually.

Yeah you might feel like the sexualized visuals of Sue were overdone, that's a valid way to feel, that kind of thing can evoke different reactions in different people. But personally those scenes felt uncomfortable. They were so over produced and over the top and mixed in between scenes of just gross yucky stuff it felt so...fake. and yeah she was objectified, the point was she wasn't seen/treated as a person just an object.

I just really think we need to move way way past the idea that feminist media is only "#GirlPower" and the only way to have a feminist lense is for the story to be "woman pushes back against beauty standards and sexism because she knows better." These systems exist in society and many many girls and women are indoctrinated into them. Analyzing them is also feminist. Showing them as the evil monstrous things they are is also feminist. Movies do not need to have a clear villain to have a message. There is no single villain in sexism. It's not one studio head, it's not even "men" in general. Women can and do uphold these misogynistic structures as well! Often, like Elizabeth, even at their own detriment.

People are certainly free to have differing views and not everyone has to like the things I like but I really think those kinds of reviews and complaints are so so shallow and frankly feminism will get us nowhere if we can't go beyond the surface of "this movie showed sexism its sexist" or "Men bad women good."

And like, it may also just not be your type of movie! That's totally fine, and does not mean you need to think it's harmful. It's a psychological body horror, that will never appeal to everyone.

Anyway

why is it that movies directed by women about beauty standards and/or the state of being valued as a woman only for your looks/appearances are ALWAYS criticized for “not being feminist enough” (ex. barbie, etc.)

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (5/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Sylus comes across you in the hot spring but desires burn hotter.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Mutual masturbation.

Length: 2500

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6)

Read on AO3

To say that life in the mountain was now much harder for Sylus to stand would be an understatement. After coming into the mountain that first time and finding it filled with scent of your arousal permeating every corner, he did not know how to function around you any longer. Even when you were not aroused he could still remember the scent with clarity, could still hear your voice moaning, and it drove him insane.

He was not angry by any means. No. He was worried that this would end up with him slamming you against a wall and fucking you mercilessly one of these days. He had thought you a pretty little treasure before but now he could not focus around you. The very idea of you was so intoxicating now it made him lose all sense. It was as if that day had unlocked something inside him that he would not be able to get back.

Everything finally came to a head one misty morning when he decided to take a soak in the hot springs. He was halfway there when he caught the scent of you already out there. That would not have been a problem in itself but this time it was not your normal scent. It was your arousal again.

Really, this dragon sense of smell was a blessing and a curse it seemed. Great for tracking food and enemies, and you when you got lost in the tunnels. It was nothing short of a menace now.

Reason told him to turn around and leave. He was already having a problem keeping his wits about him when he was around you now. He didn’t need to tempt the fates by getting closer to you while you were aroused. But did his feet listen to him? No. They carried him right to the hot springs where your nude and wet body was reclining in the hot steamy water.

He stayed in the entrance, claws dug deep into the wall to keep him tethered to reality. You were humming pleasantly, the smell of your arousal getting stronger the more you hummed. He watched for a moment and realized that one of your hands was underneath the murky water. You were touching yourself again.

This constant tension around you had to stop one way or another. And by the hells he was going to see if he could swing it in his favor.

He stood and watched, waited as you worked yourself up. Your eyes closed in rapture as your hand got quicker and quicker. You were close. So close.

Sylus scraped the claws dug into the wall down and your eyes snapped open as Sylus stepped out into the outcropping. Your eyes went wide and you sunk down to your chin in the water. “Oh hello,” you cleared your throat, “I was not expecting you to be out here so early.”

Your eyes drifted down to the towel around his hips. “I um, I’ll leave.” you said.

“There’s no need for that.” Sylus knew he was tempting fate but he could not stop himself. You averted your eyes as he discarded the towel and got into the hot spring with you.

You were keeping yourself pressed against the opposite side of the spring, arms crossed over your chest. Once he was in the water you looked at him again. “Really, master, I’ve been in here for a while. I can leave.”

“If you wish to go you may.” he said.

You looked around, staring at the spot nearby where you had left your own towel. “Um, can you close your eyes?”

“No.”

“Sylus!”

He knew he was getting under your skin when you forewent any title and just called him by his name. It made him grin. “There’s nothing for you to be ashamed about. The naked form is a very normal thing. No one judges the deer for not wearing clothes.”

“That’s because it’s an animal.”

“And so are we. Sentient thought does not excuse that we have instincts. We crave food when we are hungry, help when we are injured, and a companion when we are lonely. That’s about as animal as it gets.”

You groaned. “Well unlike animals, and I guess dragons, humans have a certain amount of privacy when it comes to their naked bodies. So please close your eyes.”

“I will not.”

You huffed, dropping the subject. Seemed you were intent on waiting him out. And all for what? So he wouldn’t see you nude? Granted, he wasn’t sure how he would react to seeing that either but your certain eccentricities were odd to him. Why were humans so cagey about their bodies? It was just another part of their society that he did not fully understand.

“If you’re not going to leave you can lather my hair again.” he said. He watched as your eyes widened, your arms clutching tighter around yourself.

“I’m still naked!”

“And does that really bother you? Do you think I’m going to do something to you?” Well, he may end up doing something to you but he had a feeling that you may not mind all that much if he did. Not if that new wave of arousal that sprang up around you was anything to go by.

“No, but--”

“Then there should be no problem. Come here.” he sent his tail out to wrap around your body, tugging you closer.

You gave a surprised yelp as the water rippled around you as you were yanked. Sylus had to grit his teeth against another fresh perfume of your arousal. You rolled your eyes but he was noticing you liked when he threw you around like this. There was so much he was learning about you.

He turned his back to you so you had some modicum of privacy. You had to sit on your knees to comfortably reach his hair and he could tell that it left the top half of you exposed to the air. All he wanted was to turn around and see more of your body, watch the way your nipples turned hard against the cool air of the mountain wind. Fuck he was salivating just thinking about it.

Deep breath. Control. Don’t scare her.

You grabbed the soap and went about washing his hair like you had last time. Your hands felt heavenly, so soft against his scalp. Fuck! He wanted to feel your touch all over his body.

Without thinking he leaned his head back against you, his head resting on your chest. He could hear your heart hammering behind his ear. You did not stop. Your hands moved further up and around the area of his horns. He took in a deep breath, the sensitivity of it rocketing down his body straight to his cock. It was a good thing the water was so murky so you couldn’t see how hard he was right then. It was made no better that with every small sigh of pleasure that escaped him your arousal grew. It made his head foggy with want. If he wasn’t careful he was going to do something reckless.

He needed to get a handle on this before he snapped. “It has come to my attention that despite the freedoms I’ve given you, I’ve still deprived you of something.” he said.

You tilted his head back to rinse out his hair. “What are you talking about?”

“Then again,” he continued, trying to control the growl in his throat, “you have probably been deprived on if since all the young men went off to fight the king’s war.”

“Can you speak plainly?”

Well, no avoiding it now. Either this was going to go one of two ways. “Do you know that dragons have a unique sense of smell? It is not a myth when people say that we can smell fear. But we can smell lots of other things too.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“Oh my dear little wildfire,” he grinned, “You want to know what I can smell on your right now? Your desire.”

“What?”

“It is a strong and heady scent. The other day I came back to the mountain and the halls were choked with it.”

“You must have been smelling something else cause I--”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” he turned finally but you had sunk back into the water. “I do not judge. You have urges just like any animal, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I can smell it now. The steam cannot mask it. It rolls off you like perfume.”

He was closing in on you, your back pressed against the wall as he hovered over you. He leaned in close to your neck and inhaled deeply. “Intoxicating. Even now, I can smell it getting stronger and stronger.”

“Sylus…”

“I didn’t let you finish earlier, so you can do that now before you combust.”

You raised your chin high, an effort at exerting some control over the situation. “The reason I am going to combust is because you are talking about this with me. If you knew the entire time, why not tell me sooner?”

“More fun this way. Now, what are you going to do?” he leaned back just enough to look in your eyes, your pupils dilated wide. “Are you going to finish yourself off like I know you want to or are you going to run back to your room? The scent won’t go away any case, not until your body is rid of the feeling.”

He could see you debating. Your knee jerk reaction was to run but that lovely little brain of yours was not thinking rationally. He knew what you wanted. He knew the idea of it intrigued you. You wanted to touch yourself. You needed to touch yourself and it was driving you mad.

“I…I will do it myself. But you have to leave.” you turned your face away from him.

“Why?” he grabbed your chin and pulled your face back to his.

“Because I’m not touching myself while you are watching!”

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked. More pleasure rolled off you and his eyes slipped closed as he inhaled it. Fuck he was so hard. “The idea intrigues you.”

“Stop sniffing me!” you shoved his face away.

“It’s impossible to not smell it.” he grabbed the hand that had been shoving at him and gave a small bite to your fingers. “Now, do you want me to touch you or are you going to do it yourself?”

“You think I’d let those claws anywhere near my cunt?” you eyed his hands.

“Oh that,” Sylus concentrated, the armor and claws around his hand retracting to reveal a normal human hand. Fucking hells. There was a reason he never did this and it was because it hurt like hell to do. But if it meant that he could sink his hand into your pussy it’d be a pain worth enduring.

You watched the claws retract into the armor of his arm and your brow furrowed. “If you could do that this entire time then how come I’ve been washing your hair?”

“Because it takes a lot of energy.” You didn’t need to know how badly it hurt to do. “But this isn’t about me, this is about you. Now answer the question. Are you touching yourself, or are you going to let me?”

You ducked out from his grasp and pressed yourself against the opposite wall. You were facing the wall so your back was to him and he worried for a moment you were going to leave. But the smile nearly split his face when he saw one of your hands disappear under the water.

Brave girl.

For a minute he indulged in basking in the scent and sight before him. Though you were facing away he could see the way your muscles flexed as you drove yourself higher. You tried biting them back but you couldn’t stop the hums and small gasps of pleasure.

Sylus could not take it any longer. His cock was aching to be touched. So he took himself in hand and began to stroke himself, all the while watching you.

He groaned aloud as his cock finally found some relief and your head turned to look at him. He caught you looking and you tried to turn back around but he wasn’t losing this too. “Don’t turn around. Look at me.”

You glanced back at him. “That’s an order from your master. Now turn and face me.”

If you had disobeyed he would have been disappointed but he would not press it. So he was so very pleased when you did turn around. One arm was slung over your breasts while the other played with your pussy. All the while you kept looking at him. Your eyes darted down to the place in the water where he knew you could tell he was stroking himself.

The scent of your arousal was so strong he wondered if it would permanently stick to him. You were getting close. And knowing that he was watching you pleasure yourself only turned you on more. He wanted to say something. Encourage you. Tell you to keep going until you finally came. But he kept it back. Another time perhaps.

Your attempts at hiding your pleasurable moans had dissipated and you let the free into the air. Sylus wanted to swallow each and every one. He gritted his teeth, the end almost upon him but he’d be damned if he came before you did.

Your breathing got shallower and your head tilted back, eyes closed as you neared your finish. You had stopped trying to protect the modesty of your breasts, instead pulling and pinching at the sensitive material of your nipples. He imagined taking one of those breasts into his mouth, teasing the nub himself with his tongue until it was a hard peak. Then he’d pull on it with his teeth and watch how you moaned and squirmed for him.

You covered your mouth, muffling the final sharp cry as you came. Sylus was not far behind and he came just a moment after.

You were slumped against the wall trying to catch your breath, your body shaking slightly in the aftermath. By the hells your were beautiful when you came.

“There,” he said, “Does that not feel better?”

Your head whipped to him, remembering that he was still in here with you. “This--this was an anomaly! It won’t be happening again!”

“If you say so.” he reclined against the wall of the spring, “But if you do ever decide you desire a partner for such activities, I’d be happy to provide such assistance.”

“You--you--” grabbed the bar of soap and hurled it at him. Sylus was shocked enough that he reached to grab it, stretching his arm up high to catch it. You had taken the moment he was distracted and leapt out of the hot spring and ran back inside the mountain.

“Well, that went better than expected.”

[wrathofrats]

Let Me Slip Inside Your Ultraviolet Disguise

Mountain/Rain, explicit

Merry Christmas @forlorn-crows (:

Rain gave him a soft closed lip smile. His hands reached to overlap mountains that sat at the hem of his sweats, simply rubbing his hands over the fabric. He had never had his tentacle actually inside of anyone. Sure, maybe countless mouths but this? This was different. More intimate and strange in rains mind. No one else had something like this.

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could.

Or, mountain rides rains tentacle for the first time.

Small warnings for t4t, rain has top surgery, mountains big naturals, cunt and clit and folds used for both of their anatomy’s, tentacles, it’s literally all fluff

Read under cut or on Ao3

“Could I try?” Mountain sat back on his heels, biting his lip. Rain didn’t meet his gaze, instead opting to pick at a loose thread from the pillowcase. His sweatpants were double tied around his waist, probably stolen from Swiss or simply bought to be a size too big. The extra room was comforting.

Mountain pulled at the drawstring, simply wrapping his finger around and pulling for the first knot to come undone. Rains shirt had rode up to expose the soft part of his stomach. It wasn’t that rain didn’t want this, but the nervousness settled inside him like a rock. Heavy and uncomfortable as mountain continued to toy with the hem of his pants, careful not to brush over his skin as to not seem like he’s trying to take it too far.

“Are you sure? It’s just ..” rain finally plucked the stray piece, throwing it onto the floor before finally looking back up at mountain, “isn’t it weird?”

“Do you want it to be weird? Dew sometimes likes it better when I treat him like that” the last knot came undone, letting the sweatpants slouch a bit more under rains tummy. It wasn’t meant to be weird, it was just rain, that’s all mountain needed.

“No, I don’t think so. Can you just ..” Rain trailed his thought off, the combination of not exactly knowing what he wanted to say and not being able to get the words out even if he did. Mountain knew though, knew him better than he knew himself, rain was pretty sure. Even if mountain didn’t know what he needed, he trusted him to take care of him anyways.

“I’ve got you waterlily”

Rain gave him a soft closed lip smile. His hands reached to overlap mountains that sat at the hem of his sweats, simply rubbing his hands over the fabric. He had never had his tentacle actually inside of anyone. Sure, maybe countless mouths but this? This was different. More intimate and strange in rains mind. No one else had something like this.

Maybe that’s what made it more exciting. The ability to feel something no one else could. Rain watched mountain undress in front of him, pulling his shirt over his head with a crack in his back, the amber sunset making his skin look almost golden. There was no flair in the way he took his clothes off, something almost domestic in the prospect of not showing off. It made Rain feel more at ease.

Mountain turned back around to focus on rain once his pants were in a careless heap on the floor along with his sweater. He only added to the mess, neatness not a virtue of his but especially not when he needed to focus on the water ghoul in front of him. The sweats and thin t shirt that rain had on were quickly discarded, leaving him in the same vulnerable state. Delicate scars decorated his chest, ones that mountain found it almost impossible not to kiss and rake his teeth over whenever he got the chance.

The prospect of different tasted funny on rains tongue. Something bitter but not exactly bad. Sure, they had done things countless of times before but there was no plastic or silicone involved this time, not some quickie in a dark corner with mountains fingers shoved deep inside of him. The idea of being inside of mountain was for some reason intimidating, either just because of anxiety or the small amount of fear that mountain would get freaked out and stop.

Suddenly a large hand rubbed over rains thigh, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts once again.

“Don’t think too hard, ok? I can practically hear your thoughts rainy. Im excited that you get to be my first time” there was a small chuckle to mountains voice, as if he was being half ironic to lighten the mood a bit.

“Your first time? Thought you were supposed to be the experienced one. Lead me through my first time”

“It can be both our firsts then. Together. How about that?” Mountain leaned over rain, pressing his lips softly to rains own. Chaste, even if he lingered for a moment over him.

Rain snorted and pushed against mountains chest to get him to sit up right again. Sappy fucker. An intimate experience even if mountain was exaggerating a little bit for the sake of the mood. Mountain knelt between his legs, hands rubbing closer and closer to his folds. Rain was already a little slick, mountain had the tendency to get him like that without doing much.

“Gotta coax her out” Rain practically whispered, almost sheepishly.

“She loves me” mountain spread rain open and thumbed at the smooth patch of skin right below his clit. Something wriggled beneath it, the tip of rains tentacle emerging from its sheath, “see, didn’t think she would take much convincing”

It slowly pushed itself out and wrapped around mountains hand. Surely just searching for warmth but still a bit endearing, especially with how the flush on rains face grew watch the whole ordeal.

“Come on- don’t just play with it, said you’d take care of me”

Mountain gave a playful roll of his eyes before moving his hips to be flush with rains. He used his free hand to open himself up, spreading his lips to rub the tentacle along his cunt hoping it would take. Rain is sure he started drooling. Thick hair from his navel down his thighs but pretty pink between them, warm and wet. It was hard not to completely zone out staring at him. A bit of hair covered his chest as well, large breasts bouncing slightly with every move and god mountain was just beautiful.

The tentacle removed itself from mountains hand before slowly pushing inside of him. The two released a punched out groan in tandem, mountain slamming his hips down with a tight grip on rains waist. Rain was right, he felt fucking perfect. Silky and soft inside, absolutely tighter than he thought he could be but it was all entirely new. His mouth fell open and eyes screwed shut, tangling his fists in the sheets below him to hold on to a semblance of reality as his tentacle explored mountain from the inside.

Sweet little suckers pumped in and out, practically kissing the rim of mountains hole. He rocked back and forth, working up to ride him in earnest. Rain had never seen him like this before, sure he had mountain ride him countless times but this was, again, different. His eyes were practically in the back of his head and his thighs shook with every small downstroke. His long hair fell into his face as he threw his head forward, giving a low moan seeing how rains tentacle entered him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful waterlily”

[beautyloves]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ∿ first time with photographer ! drew   ࣪   ˖

your first time with drew. tw. fem receiving, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

Your first time with drew was so pure, and delicate.

You and drew had lots of sleepovers, but you two never did anything more. Maybe made out once or twice but you never reached the next level.

Today, drew went over to your house for you guys to have your weekly sleepover. You two were laying in your bed—cuddling tangled up under the sheets.

His fingers traced along your jaw, as he admired your beautiful face “You’re so stunning.” he praised, his voice a mere whisper, making you blush and smile.

“I love seeing you all flustered for me.” he grinned, his fingers continued their movements along your jaw, his face leaning closer to yours as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

His hand moving up and cupping your cheek as his tongue delved past your lips to meet yours.

He pulled away just far enough to meet your eyes, his gaze holding a certain tender softness. His lips met their way to your jaw, trailing a kiss down your neck as he moved to hover above you.

His hands exploring your body, moving up the inside of your shirt, his fingers rubbing the underwire of your bra “Take it off.” he whispered in your ear, trying not to sound desperate—but he was getting pretty desperate at this point “Please, sweetheart. I wanna feel you.”

You obeyed his desperate pleas and moved to take your shirt off, then removing the clasp of your bra, and discarding it somewhere on the floor

Drew’s gaze was filled with pure love and desire, since this had been the first time he had seen you bare like this infront of him, and he was loving every moment of it.

His large hand moved from your stomach up to the side of your breast. Palming gently and rolling your sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger.

“so perfect.” he whispered as continued leaving small open mouthed kisses along your neck.

his other hand moved down your sides, as he grinded his hips down against you. He could feel the need bubbling inside of him. His sweatpants becoming slightly more uncomfortable “Can i just—“ his words cut off as he let out a needy moan, as you moved your hips against his growing bulge.

he was aching to get you out of your shorts, to feel your bare skin against his. "Can I take off your shorts, baby? Please."

“Of course.” you replied breathlessly, as he immediately moved his hands to pull your shorts down your legs—discarding them across the room

His hands slid up the insides of your thighs as he settled between your legs, a low hum of satisfaction coming from his mouth.

He placed soft kisses to your inner thighs, as his lips continued to travel up, getting closer to the area that was aching for his attention.

“May i?” he asked as he met your gaze. You nodded, and he slowly began moving your panties down your hips.

His mouth hovered just above your aching core, his hot breath fanned over you, sending a chill down your spine.

He was so close that if you looked down you'd see how his eyes darkened with want, need.

A smug smile formed on his lips when he heard a soft whine escape your mouth “Drew. Please, i need you.” you pleaded as you tugged on his hair

He let out a low groan when you pulled his hair, which quickly turned into a chuckle as he ran his tongue over your sensitive nerves. "So demanding." He teased before lowering his head and finally giving into you.

He began to roll his tongue against you, slow and steady at first until he picked up the pace, his tongue working against your folds and your aching clit.

“Drew, please..” you moaned desperately. The feeling of his tongue on you, his nose against your aching core was the best thing you’ve ever experienced

“Want you.” you tugged on his hair again.

The sound of you pleading and moaning for him sent a shiver down his spine.

He sat back as he looked up at you from between your legs, his chin was shiny with your slick and he licked his lips, as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

"I know baby, you'll get it." He mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, his hips moving back between your legs.

He met your gaze and put a hand on your cheek “You ready, baby?” he asked, you nodded “Please.” you pleaded, your hands roaming over his chest.

Every part of his body craved you, he needed to feel himself deep within you, he needed to hear you moan his name and make you fall apart completely.

He settled himself between your legs and let out a shuddering breath, feeling your warm heat against him, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered huskily in your ear, his voice was huskier than usual as he slowly pushed himself inside you. "So so beautiful."

Your eyes crinkled in pleasure as he somehow pushed deeper and deeper into you. His cock grazed your inner walls.

He groaned against your skin as he buried his face against your neck, his hips slowly moving as he filled you up.

"You're so good." He mumbled, his nose nuzzling the sensitive skin on your neck. "Baby, you feel incredible. So tight for me."

You tried to time your breaths with his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping getting louder as his pace slowly quickens.

Your nails digging into the skin on his back, as you let out a breathless moan against his ear. The feeling of you scratching at his back egged him on and his hips continued to move, hitting that perfect spot that made you shiver.

He could feel you clenching around him and it made his brain go fuzzy. He was getting addicted to the feeling of you, the feeling of being inside of you.

He groaned into your shoulder in response, his pace become rougher, he was getting close as he mumbled sweet nothings into your skin.

“I’m gonna cum, drew.” you moaned “Fuck.” you threw your head back, your hands roaming gripping the back of his neck as your cum spilled all over his cock.

You clenched around him and that was it, he was done. The sound of your moan and the feeling of you coming undone for him.

He groaned against your neck, his pace stuttering as he emptied himself inside of you. He stilled for a moment before collapsing against your chest.

"Baby." He breathed out as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and buried his face in your chest.

You held him close to your chest, your fingers combing through his hair, as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head

“You’re incredible.” he mumbled against your skin.

It was so raw, so pure, and so beautiful.

©BEAUTYLOVES all rights reserved. all likes and reblogs r appreciated ♡

beauty yaps — wanna eat this man so bad 😇

🏷️: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @slut4chris888 @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @waitforyrlove

[aesthetically-dying101]

The Crimson Throne.

Act 4- The Garden Of Shadows.

A/N: weewoo part 4, also, she isn't as weak as you guys might think, two more parts and we're done yay!

Act 1, Act 2, Act 3,

It started with whispers.

But whispers have a way of spreading, creeping into the cracks of the palace like ivy, relentless and slow.

You noticed it first in the corridors, in the way the curses spoke when they thought no one was listening. Their voices were low, their words slippery things, darting between the safe and the forbidden.

“Did you see him after the last fight?” one had muttered, its voice a guttural rasp that scraped like dry leaves. “He wasn’t the same.”

“He hasn’t been the same,” another hissed, its form a shapeless, shifting shadow on the wall. “Since the human came.”

You kept walking, your head down, your pace steady. They didn’t stop when you passed; why would they? You were just you—small, mortal, insignificant. They didn’t think you could hear them. Or maybe they didn’t care.

“He’s let her live this long,” a third voice added, venom dripping from every word. “What does that tell you?”

“Enough.”

That single word, cut through the conversation like a blade. You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw one of Sukuna’s higher-ranked curses glowering at the others. They fell silent immediately, shrinking back into the shadows like scolded dogs.

But the silence didn’t last.

*-*

The hall was darker than usual, the torches along the walls burning low, their weak light casting flickering shadows that stretched and warped across the ancient stone. The curses gathered in secret corners, their voices low, whispers sliding over the walls like the hiss of serpents.

“Enough of this,” one spat, its voice gravelly, like stones grinding together. “He is not invincible.”

The curse who spoke was massive, its form hulking and malformed, arms too long and ending in jagged claws. It leaned forward, its yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light as it addressed the others. “The King grows careless. He bleeds.”

“He bleeds, yes,” another voice chimed in, soft and sharp, like broken glass underfoot. A smaller curse, hunched but quick, perched on a ledge above the group. “But do not mistake that for weakness. He will carve you into ribbons before you even blink.”

The first curse snarled, its jagged teeth bared. “And what of it, then? We continue to bow, scraping the ground with our faces while he uses us as fodder? Tell me, how many of us have died for his amusement?”

A murmur rippled through the group, uneasy but growing. The torches flickered again, their flames sputtering as though responding to the tension in the room.

“It isn’t just amusement,” hissed another curse, slithering forward. Its form was serpentine, its scales glinting in the dim light as its tongue flicked the air. “It’s control. Domination. He keeps us in line by showing us what happens when we step out of it.”

“And you are content with that?” the first curse snapped, its voice rising with anger. “Content to live under his heel until he decides we’re no longer useful? I will not.”

“You’re a fool,” said the glass-voiced curse. “The King has ruled for centuries. Longer than most of us have existed. You think you’re the first to have these thoughts? You’ll end up like the others. A smear on the ground, forgotten before the next moon.”

“And yet he lets a human live among us,” another voice growled from the shadows, deeper and quieter, but no less venomous. “A human. The very creatures we were made to despise. She walks freely, touches him freely, even heals him.”

The group fell silent for a moment, the weight of the words settling over them like a heavy fog.

“It is an insult,” the first curse growled. “An affront to all of us. What are we to him now? Nothing but dogs, while the human plays at being his equal.”

“She is not his equal,” the serpentine curse hissed, its tongue flicking again. “She is a tool. Like us. He will use her until there is nothing left and then discard her.”

“And if she is more than that?” the glass-voiced curse asked softly. “If she is something he values?”

The first curse snarled again, its claws raking deep gouges into the stone floor. “If she is, then she is a weakness. One we can exploit.”

Another ripple of unease passed through the group, this one sharper, more dangerous.

“You speak of treason,” the serpentine curse said, its voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You speak of things that will get us all killed.”

The hulking curse turned, its yellow eyes burning with fury. “I speak of freedom. Of survival. If we do nothing, we die. If we act, there is a chance—a small one, perhaps, but a chance—to live.”

“And what of you?” the glass-voiced curse asked, its tone mocking. “You think you can best him? That your claws are sharper than his? Your power greater?”

“I think he is not invincible,” the first curse said, its voice steady now, conviction hardening its words. “I think he bleeds. And I think he has grown comfortable—too comfortable. He believes himself untouchable, and that will be his downfall.”

The room was silent for a long moment, the curses watching one another with wary eyes. The torches flickered again, and the shadows seemed to stretch further, their darkness pressing against the edges of the room.

“Careful,” the serpentine curse finally said, its voice almost a whisper. “He has eyes and ears everywhere. You think he doesn’t know your thoughts already?”

The hulking curse grinned, a feral, toothy smile that did little to reassure. “Then let him hear them. Let him know his time is coming. Let him know we are watching.”

The glass-voiced curse let out a sharp laugh, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. “Brave words for a fool. Let’s see how long you last.”

The serpentine curse slithered back into the shadows, its eyes gleaming faintly. “You play a dangerous game, my friend. One you will not win.”

And with that, the group began to disperse, the room emptying one shadow at a time, leaving only the faint echoes of their whispers behind.

But the hulking curse remained, its eyes fixed on the door at the far end of the hall. It stood there for a long time, its claws flexing against the stone, before finally turning and vanishing into the darkness.

*-*

Uraume noticed.

They always noticed.

They stood at the edge of the main hall, their eyes narrowing as they watched the faint, creeping vines snaking across the corners of the room. Roses again. Smaller this time, their dark red petals just beginning to unfurl, but there was something deliberate in their placement, a strange, almost purposeful growth.

"Strange," Uraume muttered under their breath, their hand brushing against one of the blooms. It pulsed faintly with cursed energy, the kind that felt eerily familiar. "What are you doing, little healer?"

They turned away, their steps purposeful as they made their way to find you.

*-*

You, meanwhile, were seated in the infirmary, hands dusted with dirt and an array of herbs spread out before you. You didn’t know how long you’d been there, but the hum of your cursed energy was stronger than usual, like an itch just beneath your skin that you couldn’t quite scratch.

The plants had been acting strange lately. You’d noticed it when you went to pluck some mint leaves from the garden for a tea blend. What had once been a modest patch was now sprawling, vibrant, and unchecked, the leaves glossy and brimming with vitality.

The same thing had happened with the medicinal herbs in the infirmary, then with the wildflowers outside your window. Now, they seemed to sprout anywhere you walked, weaving through cracks in the stone, curling up the walls.

You leaned back, staring at the small bud that had somehow appeared on the table beside you. Another rose. Its petals were soft to the touch, and the faint hum of energy within it made your skin tingle.

“Why won’t you stop?” you murmured to no one in particular, poking at the bloom. You knew it was your own fault, your own cursed energy.. or whatever. But something was off.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna had felt it.

He always felt it—your cursed energy had become a constant undercurrent, subtle yet pervasive, like roots threading deep beneath the earth. And now, it was louder.

He hadn’t summoned you yet, which was unusual, but you didn’t have time to dwell on that. The growing unease had seeped into your chest like cold water, spreading slowly but insistently.

Something was wrong.

*-*

Uraume found you an hour later, standing at the window of the infirmary.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you asked, attempting to keep your voice light as they entered.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Uraume said flatly, ignoring your attempt at humor. They crossed the room in a few long strides, their sharp eyes flicking to the vines creeping along the windowsill. “This shift in the air. It isn’t normal.”

You hesitated, the weight of their words sinking in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A lie. You did feel it—the heaviness, the strange charge that had been lingering for days now. But acknowledging it felt too much like giving it power.

Uraume snorted, unimpressed. “Lying doesn’t suit you, little flower. Don’t play coy.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line at the nickname. Sukuna had started using it recently, and now Uraume was following suit.

“I’m serious,” you insisted, though your voice wavered. “I don’t know why the plants are acting strange, or why things feel... off.”

Uraume studied you for a long moment, their gaze uncomfortably sharp. “The plants are your doing. You’ve tied your cursed energy to them, whether you meant to or not. They’re... responding to something.”

“Responding to what?” you asked, your voice small.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” they said, turning toward the door. But before they left, they glanced over their shoulder, their tone unusually serious. “Be careful, healer. The palace isn’t as quiet as it seems.”

*-*

It lasted for a solid month.

The weird tension, that every time you went anywhere, curses seemed to just.. stare- and for some it was damn obvious, they had way too many eyes.

They were watching you.

Every movement you made, every glance you shot in their direction, it was as though they were cataloguing your every breath. The shadows in the corners seemed darker, the flicker of torchlight slower, and there were whispers. Whispers you couldn’t understand. Whispers that made your skin crawl, your cursed energy shifting unnaturally, like an animal sensing danger.

But the strangest part?

You couldn't figure out why.

You couldn’t put a name to it, but you felt it in your bones—the looming presence of something amiss, something that had shifted under the surface.

The roses had been growing, proliferating through every crack in the stone, twisting around pillars, weaving themselves into the very structure of the palace. The plants had become almost sentient, spreading with purpose, creeping like the inevitable, like they were a warning to anyone who dared approach.

*-*

Sukuna was distracted. Focused on something—someone, perhaps—but whatever it was, it had left him blind to the unrest brewing beneath his throne.

It had been in the works for weeks. Curses, once loyal to the King of Curses, had quietly gathered in secret, whispering of overthrowing their tyrant ruler. Whispers of freedom. Whispers of rebellion.

The palace was a powder keg, and tonight, it was about to explode.

You were walking through one of the upper halls, lost in your own thoughts, when the first sign of the conflict erupted. A crash. A roar. The sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall.

You froze.

It was coming from the lower levels—the halls you knew well, the very ones that led to the throne room. You turned, half instinctively, half hesitantly, knowing that whatever was happening wasn’t a minor disturbance.

The sound of curses shouting reached your ears, jagged and frantic, a few words cutting through the chaos.

“Take him down!” someone screamed. “This is the end!”

Then, the unmistakable sound of weapons clashing—swords, claws, and cursed techniques firing off like bullets, filling the halls with energy so thick you could feel it in your chest.

Your heart raced. What is happening?

You started to move, trying to find out what was going on, but a sharp voice rang out from behind you, pulling you to a stop.

“Stay out of it, human,” Uraume’s voice was cold and biting as they appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed. “This is not your fight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Uraume’s gaze stopped you dead in your tracks. Their expression, a mix of frustration and something like desperation, stopped you from arguing further.

“Go to your quarters. Now.” Uraume's voice held an edge that left no room for disobedience.

You hesitated, the urge to help gnawing at you, but something in their tone had you second-guessing. Uraume was a figure of authority here—loyal to Sukuna, even if they were irritated by your presence. And their warning had come too late; the battle was already upon them.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And just like that, you turned, walking quickly away, heart racing in your chest. The fight was unfolding somewhere below, out of your sight but unmistakably close.

Down in the throne room, Sukuna’s loyalists clashed against the mutineers with fury.

Sukuna’s most trusted—Yorozu, a towering curse whose body was a mass of shifting shadows, and Jogo, the fiery one who could twist fire into monstrous shapes—fought with a savage intensity. They were as much a part of Sukuna as his throne, his crown. But even they were caught off-guard.

The mutineers, those who had once been under Sukuna’s rule, were now fierce in their desire for freedom, their anger fueling their cursed energy like a wildfire. They fought with desperation in their eyes, some with claws, others wielding cursed tools, all of them determined to strike down the tyrant who had held them in thrall for far too long.

Jogo let out a frustrated growl as he was forced to retreat, flames licking at his hands, narrowly missing the attacks from one of the mutineers.

“Cowards!” he bellowed, lashing out with a wave of fire that melted the stone beneath him. “You think you can just overthrow the King?”

But even he was finding it difficult to get a clear shot at the mutineers, who were rallying, working in unison.

Yorozu, who had once served as the shadow that shielded Sukuna, snarled as she grappled with one of the mutineers, her long claws slicing through the air. “You traitors will die for this!”

As the clash escalated, Sukuna’s minions began to fall one by one. The sound of bone breaking, the crack of bodies colliding with stone—each one was louder than the last.

In the middle of it all, the traitor leader—someone you didn’t recognize, their face hidden beneath a cloak—grinned viciously. “Sukuna’s reign ends tonight. We will make this kingdom ours.”

And then, amidst the chaos, the massive form of Sukuna himself appeared, his silhouette cutting through the fighting like a blade. His crimson eyes glowed, and for a moment, all noise ceased, as if the palace held its breath.

“You think you can overthrow me?” Sukuna’s voice was a low growl, a promise of pain, of death. “You think you’re worthy of the throne?”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then, the fighting resumed, more fierce than ever, and you could hear the sickening crack of limbs being snapped, the hiss of curses on the edge of destruction.

You stayed, un-moving, paralysed by... not exactly fear-simply.. confusion.

What were you supposed to do??

That's until the door literally exploded.

A/N:i made an attempt to do a cliffhanger, i don't think i'll do another cause that was just meh

:)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl helps you reignite the Christmas spirit as best as he can.

A/N: This started as an incorrect quote inspired by a friend and her epic battle with a christmas tree. You can find the quote here. A special thank you to @shadowcitrine for allowing me to bear witness to this gladiator battle to the death. It was the hardest I have laughed in a long time. And furthermore, thank you again for allowing me to use your suffering to my creative advantage. I love you. ❤️

🎶Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree🎶

“How ya even know when it is anyway?” Holding the hex nut up to eye level, he turned it over between his fingers. Yep, that was the one. He placed it in the designated spot and fitted the wrench, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he worked. 

“I don’t, but it’s mid winter and it’s snowing and why not? Don’t be so bah humbug, Daryl.” You chuckled at his expression. He never knew he was making it and you never told him. He would certainly make every attempt to stop and it was far too adorable to allow that. 

“I ain’t.” He grumbled, sitting up to scrutinize his own work. A droplet of melted snow landed on the apple of his cheek. He didn’t seem to mind, if he noticed at all. The roof of the old stall was known to leak. “Just—never understood it, s’all.”

Your smile faded. “You never had one.” You didn’t need him to confirm, and he didn’t. Not verbally. The way he paused with the wrench halfway to the bike spoke volumes. After a heartbeat, he cleared his throat and continued his work. 

The holiday wasn’t something that had been celebrated in the several years since the turn. Truthfully, no one had paid attention. Some of the children likely didn’t even know what Christmas was. The thought had always made your heart heavy but there had always been something standing in the way of any reclaiming of the holiday. 

“We should celebrate this year.” You blurted, not even really realizing that you had spoken out loud until Daryl scoffed. 

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m serious.” Crossing the space between the two of you, you crouched and balanced yourself with a hand on the bike’s front tire. “Come on, Daryl. It’ll be great for the kids. Hell, maybe it’ll do everyone some good.” He sighed, allowing his hand to fall away from its task. The pout you pinned him with was certainly what did him in. 

“Fine.”

Biting your lip in the center of a beaming smile, you lunged at him, almost toppling him over with the embrace. “Thank you!” Daryl nodded and patted your back, still awkward in his reciprocations of your touches even after so long as a couple. It was endearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whaddaya need me to do?”

With a firm grip on his upper arms, you pushed him back to arm’s length. “You’re gonna be Santa’s little helper! Come on!” 

Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face and gave a heaving sigh. “M’a regret this.”

It had taken six days and four supply runs to gather enough decorations for at least your own home to be decorated. You enlisted the help of some of the children for drawings and crafts that could be used as well. Though you wished you could color the community in lights and garland, your space would have to do for that first year. 

Your hope was for it to coax the holiday spirit from within the adults and inspire a sense of wonder from the little ones. Even with all the effort, it seemed so lackluster. And Daryl, bless him, was granting a valiant effort toward your endeavor. 

You had just pulled some cookies from the oven—gingerbread men for the kids to decorate with what little frosting and candy you could manage—when there was a knock on the door. 

“Yeah, one sec!” You called, pulling off the oven mitts to discard them on the countertop. A spared glance into the living room had you smiling. The multicolored lights you ran for a few hours each evening cast a brilliant illuminance across the door and then Carol’s face when you opened it. “Hey, come on in.”

Her boot had barely touched the floor on the other side of the threshold when a loud crash sounded from the living room. “What was that?” She queried.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it!” Came Daryl’s gruff response before your lips could even part. Carol’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline before another thump thud crash could be heard. 

“What was that?” She chuckled. 

“You’re askin’ a awful lot’a questions for someone who ain’t even in the goddamn room!”

Try as the two of you might to withhold, you broke out into laughter. You hid your knowing smile behind your hand. “Daryl’s putting up Christmas decorations.” 

“No I ain’t!” He shouted with obvious annoyance.  “M’playin’ “whose dick’s bigger” with a plastic fuckin’ tree!” 

More ruckus echoed, and you finally decided that maybe your archer needed some assistance. “Are you okay in here?” You chortled, rubbing your lips together in an attempt to maintain a straight face. 

Daryl was chewing his bottom lip in earnest when his eyes met yours. There was no anger there, but something more akin to embarrassment. Tilting your head, your nose crinkled and brow furrowed. What on earth could he be embarrassed—

Oh. 

The tree leaned to one side, bare spots where lights should be, limbs missing and broken on the floor. No matter the battle, it appeared the tree had won. Carol was snickering behind you, shushed by a wave of your hand and a stuttering ssh as you tried not to join her. 

“It looks—” You began.  

“Like it needs a stage name.” Carol finished for you. You turned to her again, your smile belying your admonishing tone. “Something about it seriously isn’t right with Jesus.” She laughed heartily. 

“He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this.” Turning back, you could almost see a pout decorating his handsome face. “May be his birthday but this is my tree!” Oh, how hard it was not to tease him. “Why couldn’t he just’a got a cake like everybody else?”

“Daryl!” You gave in, nearly doubling over. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lighter and some beeswax.” He grumbled, petulantly yanking his arm away when you laid your hand on it. 

“It’s got character.” You assured him, face mockingly serious. Arms crossed, you stood next to him, head tilted to match the lean of the tree. “Like an extra in the Nutcracker.”

“One ya ain’t gonna let dance in the front.” He mimicked your pose, appearing a little more at ease—almost as if he himself might laugh. Carol joined the two of you, three sets of eyes studying the colorful disaster. 

“It really says something.” She affirmed with a hint of amusement. 

“Yeah, says m’sorry.” Daryl huffed. Smiling genuinely, you switched the tilt of your head to the other side, your temple resting against his shoulder. 

“I love our little crooked tree.” Your smile broadened when you felt his arm move and come to rest around your shoulders, his lips pressing into your hair. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, comfortable in his embrace, but the excited yays from Judith and RJ broke the trance, your already upturned mouth splitting into a beaming smile. 

“Uncle Daryl, we have a tree!” The young boy exclaimed, jumping up and down. You had explained the gist of things to a group of children, delighting in their excitement when you promised to try your hardest in reviving the season. 

“Sure do.” He sounded almost proud, sparking something warm inside your chest. 

“How about some cookies before we invite everyone over?” You offered, your eyes on the children before finding Daryl watching you, a corner of his mouth upturned. 

There almost wasn’t room in your modest home for all the townsfolk but you made it work, serving stew and desserts and heaping helping of cheer. The laughs and smiles were all you had ever wanted for the community, the desire to uplift their spirits and inspire hope where so little had remained.

“Hey.” Daryl breathed against your ear, his arms wrapping around your middle. All teeth and crinkled eyes, you laid your head back against his shoulder and just watched. “Think ya did it.”

“We did it.” You corrected him, angling your face upward to kiss his chin, his whiskers comfortably scratching your lips. He hummed.

“Got a surprise for ya.” Daryl stepped back, arms releasing their hold only for his hand to find yours with a gentle tug. A curious expression crossed your face. 

“A surprise?”

“Mhm.” 

It took no coaxing for you to follow him to the door, watching him open it with sheer excitement reflecting in your bright orbs. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but to see his bike, strategically wrapped in garland and bells under the gentle peppering of snow was not it. 

“Oh, Daryl.” Your bottom lip quivered, your voice trembling. “You did this for me?” The tears that began to escape were unbidden, born not of sadness. 

“Well, yeah.” He kicked at something nonexistent on the porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Y’deserve something too.” Your smile was dazzling but dimmed after a moment, expression falling as you watched him. “What?”

“I didn’t—I couldn’t get anything for you.” 

Daryl stepped into your space without hesitation, the side of his forefinger below your chin while his thumb stroked your cheek. “Got all I need right here in this house.”

“Daryl.” You sniffled, a sob cut off by his lips on yours. The kiss was chaste, the taste of sugar and smoke so deliciously Daryl that you felt your heart flutter. 

“C’mon, let’s take ya on a sleigh ride.” 

With your hand in his, he guided you to the bike, your eyes wet and your heart full. Not even the cold winter wind whipping against your face could erase your smile. 

[cosmicrelease]

steve had spent all day at work. meaning he spent all day masking using his perfectly curated customer service persona. and he was tired. all he wanted to do was go to his dark, quiet house, and curl up in bed.

except he couldn’t.

no of course he couldn’t. he had stupidly made plans weeks ago and stupidly assumed he’d be up for it when the day came. eddie had asked steve to use his place for a hellfire christmas get together and of course steve said yes. but now the day is here and he really wasn’t looking forward to it.

steve drove home from work in silence. just needing the time to recover from the day. he knew he didn’t have much time between work and when people would be at his place but he was hoping it would be enough time to take a breath.

unfortunately, it was not enough time. everyone had shown up about an hour ago and steve was starting to feel the ribbon holding his mask on start to come loose. the group was in the living room listening to christmas music while having a loud and heated debate about something from the last campaign. steve was sat next to eddie on the couch, trying to keep up with what was going on. trying to make the right facial expressions for whatever story was being told to him, trying to make sure he asked enough questions but not too many, trying to appear like everyone else. all that in combination with the music and everyone talking at once and the room was a mess of discarded wrapping paper had steve feeling like he was about to rip off his skin.

normally steve did great in social situations, he was good at mimicking people and listening to what they had to say. but on days where his system was already overwhelmed, he got very overstimulated very quickly. and all he wanted to do was be somewhere quiet and dark.

not wanting to ruin anyone’s festivities he decided to go up to his room, his safe space, to try and get it together. he hadn’t even realized he had been shaking until he reached for the knob to let himself in. after shutting the door to block out the noise steve went to the furthers corner of the room before sliding to the floor with his back against the wall. it made him feel safe and protected from all sides. he began biting at the skin on his nails on one hand while the other was in his hair pulling, trying to pull himself back to reality. he felt like his whole body was on fire. his pants were too tight, his shirt had a tag that he hadn’t noticed before, and he could still hear the rumbling of people on the floor below.

he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard a small knock on the door, “stevie? I’m going to come in because I’m worried about you. okay baby?”

steve didn’t have the energy to respond but he knew eddie was going to come in either way so it didn’t really matter. eddie opened the door before quickly and quietly closing it, making his way over to where steve and quietly speaking, “hey sweetheart. what’s going on?”

steve couldn’t respond, still feeling too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. instead he let out a small defeat whine because it’s the only sound his body would allow him to make. suddenly steve felt eddie grab his hands, entangling their fingers together. it was grounding but he still felt jittery and like he needed to get the movement out somehow so he began rocking side to side. he closed his eyes because making eye contact with eddie right now is way too much for him.

this caused eddie to softly say, “yeah baby that’s okay. i just don’t want you hurting yourself sweetheart.” eddie started to softly rock along with steve as to not hinder steve’s movements with their hand holding.

they sway for awhile longer while steve takes some deep breaths before stopping his movement, hands still intwined with eddie’s. he then opens his eyes to look at eddie before saying a whispering a quiet, “sorry.”

“oh sweetheart,” eddie cooed. “you never have to apologize for something like this, it’s not your fault. i just want to make sure you’re okay. can we get you off the floor and over to the bed?”

steve was so exhausted he could only nod in reply to eddie’s question. eddie stands first, and with their hands still connected, steve allows himself to be pulled up off the floor. once steve is sitting in bed eddie grabs him some comfy pants to slide on instead of jeans, and tells steve to take his shirt off since eddie knows it will make steve feel like he can breathe better.

once he was changed and comfy steve spoke up again, “eds? will you—will you hold me?”

“yeah sweetheart of course i will.” eddie gently replies as he arranges himself. he sits with his back against the pillows and allowed steve to wrap himself around eddie’s torso, with his head on eddie’s chest.

after letting out a sigh of comfort as he felt eddie’s fingers in his hair steve felt the need to say something, “thank you eds. i really appreciate you taking care of me and not judging. you make me feel safe.”

“you know you’ll always be safe with me baby. i will always take care of you just like you always take care of me. i wish you had told me you were having a bad day stevie, i could’ve helped you sooner.”

“i didn’t want you to worry. plus i didn’t want to ruin your party. oh my god the party! is everyone still downstairs? did i ruin everything?” steve began to panic.

“no need to stress sweetheart i already took care of it.”

“does that mean you kicked everyone out and i ruined your party?”

“no of course not! i just told dustin i was coming to check on you and if i wasn’t back in an hour to get clear everyone out. we had already done all the stuff we had planned lovey, we were just down there shooting the shit. i promise you didn’t ruin anything. now go ahead and rest I’m sure you’re exhausted right now. we can talk more about it later.” eddie sealed his statement with a kiss to the top of steve’s head.

“okay. love you eds.”

“love you too baby. now get some rest i’ll be here when you wake up.”

[incorporealbombchelle]

The Wife Of A Close Friend

Daniel Cleaver × Fem!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: One Christmas Eve, while Mark is stuck at the office, Daniel Cleaver pays (y/n) a visit...

⚠️TW: Cheating, Mild Daddy Kink, Mild Dirty Talk, Manipulation, Sleaziness, Raw P in V Penetration, Carly Simon, General Smut.

The house phone rings out, shrill and I pick it up "Hello?"

"Hello, (y/n). When's hubby due home?" Daniel, my husband Mark's best friend.

"Daniel, hi. Mark said he'd be back closer to 6pm. Do you two have plans tonight?"

"I'll be there in 10. Wear something appealing."

"Its only two, why would you-" click.

Asshole.

I hang up and a little over ten minutes later the doorbell rings. I open it to a smiling, if fatigued, Daniel Cleaver. He's flushed, breathing hard as he runs a hand through his hair. Today he's wearing a linen button down and jeans under his coat and if I wasn't constantly on the verge of wanting to kill him, I'd say he looks good. Great, even.

"Did you run here?"

"Did I run here? Will there ever be peace in the middle east? Are you wearing panties? These are all very difficult questions, (y/n), I propose we start with the panties and work backwards," he wheezes

"Watch it-" I warn

"You're right, I'm awful, we should talk it out over drinks,"

I roll my eyes and he nods into the foyer, pushing past me.

"Oh, won't you come in." I plead flatly.

I step aside, closing the door to follow behind as he saunters into the kitchen, plucks a beer from the fridge and discards his coat over the counter. His eyes leer over me as he takes a swig of his drink.

"Does Mark know you traipse around the house in these skimpy little dresses while he's at work?"

"It's Prada, for your information and it is not skimpy..." I tug the hem of the mini dress as low as I'm able to, but it refuses to support my assertion and I feel myself redden some.

He smiles devilishly and turns away for a moment, teeth catching his lower lip as he does. "Right," he scoffs, amused at my expense.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this midday home invasion, Mr. Cleaver?"

"Two-thirty is hardly the middle of the day, (y/n), middle of the afternoon maybe, but-"

"The point. Reach it."

"You don't remember the model number of the speaker set you gave Mark last year for Christmas off-hand, do you? I've been looking for something similar for my flat, they're sold out everywhere, and I've never heard more crisp audio in my life than I have through those speakers."

"Oh, erm... I don't remember it off-hand, actually, we did just move them to the bedroom from the living room, I'll show you where they are. Do you have a pad and pen?"

"Always, lead the way."

I show him upstairs to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe, pointing out the speaker set just across from mine and Mark's bed.

"Just there, check whatever you need."

"Excellent, you're a peach, thank you."

"Anytime."

I watch Daniel investigate the speakers, turning a couple over and writing down some numbers in his moleskine. He then shuffles through the adjacent CD collection a bit before looking over to me.

"What's your poison?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on (y/n), have some fun, god knows that's gone out the window here now that you and Mark are married." He quips, continuing his search.

"Here, Carly Simon : 'No Secrets', we love a bit of Carly, dont we?" He winks and I can't help but giggle.

He sets the CD into the player and selects a track, pressing the play button. The muted bass intro of  'Youre So Vain' fills the room and Daniel is... it wouldn't be fair to call it dancing but he is definitely... moving to the beat, and -shock horror- extending a hand to me.

'and all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner and-' 

I let out a loud laugh as I take his hand and we are twirling, twisting, dancing... having fun. 

He's not the worst dancer in the world and I nearly cackle as he dips me, brings me up, spins me out and back into his arms, and this is nice, actually.

We sway and maybe I've judged him a bit too harshly... he is best friends with Mark after all, how bad could the man be, really?

"Y'know, Mick Jagger subbed in backing vocals on this one..." he speaks into the crook of my neck, low and soothing, his breath warm.

"Did he?" It becomes apparent to me that yes, yes he did. Interesting.

"Mm. It's funny, the song could very easily be about him..."

"I suppose it could be, huh..."

'I had some dreams, there were clouds in my coffe, clouds in my coffee and...'

As we sway, Daniel's body molds to mine, hands finding my hips. I let my eyes close, my hands resting over his. We fit together like puzzle pieces as our fingers interlace and this is nice. It's never like this with Mark.

Daniel's lips ghost the side of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine "Daniel, don't..." I turn around, my eyes meeting his in shock.

"(y/n), darling, relax. We're only dancing. I know for a fact, Mark barely even uses these speakers. Why not let me appreciate what he so clearly doesn't?" he closes the short distance Ive left bewteen us, eyes trailing over me, drinking in my face, my figure. "What he couldn't...possibly..." his eyes capture mine and he leans down, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. I don't move. I can barely breathe.

'and when you're not you're with, some underworld spy or-'

Daniel's lips lock to mine and the world goes quiet. Our tongues explore eachother's mouths and he moans and before I realize it I'm unbuttoning his shirt.

Daniel places a hand over mine. "(y/n). wait, wait." A look of genuine concern colors his features as he looks down at me, speaking softly "I just... I want you to know that I like you. Love you, really. Every day I kick myself for not objecting to your vows with Mark. You've completely captivated me since our first meeting. You occupy my mind, always... not just when I'm in the shower. So this... you, wanting me too... it...means something to me." His eyes search mine for understanding and it's there.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"What could I have said? 'No, Darcy, please don't marry her, I love her more than you do' ??"

His tongue traces his lower lip as his eyes flick to my mouth, and he starts to lean in again.

We shouldn't. This is wrong. I'm married to his best friend. He's an awful person. A total prat. A prat who tastes like cigarettes and Diet Coke. A prat whose hands feel incredible on my ass. A prat, who is currently...unzipping my dress... and whose charm I am utterly defenseless to. 

The dress in question falls to the ground in a heap and I'm stood before him in just my bra and panties. As Daniel looks me over, a low moan escapes him and he gasps.

"Ohh, how I've dreamed of this moment. You are...perfect, (y/n), just...ravishing..." his arms wrap around me again and he nibbles my neck while unhooking my bra, tossing it haphazardly aside.

Daniel drags the freshly dampened panties down my legs and helps me out of them, eyes holding mine as he does. But his clothes are still on.

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" I question.

"Looking to level the playing field?" A grin. Daniel reaches a hand back, closing the bedroom door with a click.

I bite my lip, reaching out to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders.

His arms are well-muscled, his chest taut and stomach defined. I start to undo his belt, then his trousers, dropping to my knees before him as I do.

I can tell just from the outline of it he is thick and my mouth drops open as I watch his dick strain against the fabric of his black boxer-briefs.

My fingers hook into the sides of the waistband and he takes in a sharp breath as I pull them down his legs, cock eagerly bouncing forth to greet me.

Daniel tilts my chin up so I'm looking up at him again. "Can I ask a favor of you?"  He smirks down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Cleaver?" my best bambi eyes.

"Open your mouth, Mrs. Darcy."

I open wide for him, tongue out, and Daniel laces his fingers into my hair, slowly guiding my head as far down onto his length as possible, in and out, gradually speeding up to a regular pace. I gag when he hits the back of my throat and blink away tears as he continues to roughly fuck my mouth.

"Ohhh, Mrs. Darcy, your tongue feels fucking exquisite... there you go, that's a good girl... take. It. All..." he dips into the back of my throat a few times in a row and when I  gag again, he groans, gasping sharply. His hand is still enmeshed in my hair and he reminds me of it by jerking my head backwards, cock exiting my mouth with a pronounced pop.

Daniel strokes my cheek, taking in the sight of me on my knees, heaving, lips swollen, body buzzing.

"Mm. I think I'm going to have to fuck you now, (y/n). Too gorgeous not to, I'm afraid. Lay back for me, yeah?"

I rest back on the carpet and he follows me down, nipping and kissing down my neck, hands traveling over the contours of my body as he does.

He takes his cock in hand, stroking it a few times as he looks my face over.

"Are you ready for me?" I nod and he smirks, parting my legs. He glides the tip along my vulva, teasing, and lets out a satisfied hum at the slickness of it.

Daniel aligns himself with my entrance and hastily slips his cock inside of me. He is... much larger than I realized and I gasp at the sudden fullness as he begins to steadily roll his hips down into mine.

"Fuck me, that's tight, have you been fucked recently, (y/n)?"

My face is hot, all I can offer is a choked whimper and he smirks down at me.

"That's a no, then. Ah, don't worry pet. Daddy's here and he's going to take very good care of you..."

he murmurs into my neck, pace picking up.

He feels remarkable but it's so much and "D-Daniel?"

"Mm?" He keeps rocking into me,

"I- mmmh, it's- you're just- it's really big, and-" I gasp as his tip hits my cervix.

"Oh? Are you not used to something like this?" He taunts, grinning.

"Bit much for you then?" He gives another forceful buck into me and I moan.

"(y/n), we can stop whenever you like, you just. say. the word..." he pounds into me hard, one hand pinning my hip in place as I wrap my legs around him. " No Daniel, don't stop, please don't stop!" I whine.

"Mm. See, that's what I thought you might say... sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it like that, too..." he keeps railing into me and I gasp, feeling my body start to coil.

"(y/n) I'm going to pull out now, and you're going to turn over for me, yeah?" I nod.

"Good girl."

He pulls out of me and I do turn over for him, arching my hips up and looking back at him.

Daniel runs his hands over my ass, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding himself back into me.

It's easier to take this time, though still a little overwhelming. He pushes into me carefully, slowly, holding my hips steady, and as he fills me out I realize I spoke too soon.

He starts bucking into me again, his strokes commanding as our bodies clap against eachother. "Oh my Gohdd," I groan, tensing around him.

One of Daniel's hands snakes around my hip and his fingers toy with my clit expertly as he continues ramming into me. His other hand grasps a fistful of my hair, yanking back ruthlessly and my entire body is rigid with need as I clench around his cock once, twice.

"You are just... magnificent, (y/n), so wet, so fucking tight, christ, are you about to come?" He slows his thrusts some and I whimper at the change of pace.

"I said, are you gonna come for me?"

"Yesssss, please" I breathe, desperate.

"Please what?" He slows down to a glacial pace, still playing with my clit, torturous, and does he actually expect me to say it? No. There's no way.

"Please what. (y/n)?" Oh my god. He wants me to call him-

"Daddy! Please Daddy, let me come, I need it,"

"There you go, wasn't so hard, was it?" He speeds up again, pistoning into me rapidly, his grip on my hair tightening. "Tell me something (y/n), has Mark fucking Darcy ever made you feel this good? Ever made you crave it the way you do right now?"

"No, never!!" The words leave me before I'm aware I've said them and I wish it wasn't true.

"Who makes you feel like this?"

"You!! Only you, Daniel!!" I whine.

"That's right, now are you going to be a good girl and come for Daddy? I can feel you fucking twitching, (y/n), just. Let. Go."

Orgasm hits like a train and within seconds I'm a mess of pathetic, whimpering contractions beneath him, completely undone.

Daniel slows, letting me ride out the final waves of my climax, hand finally releasing its grip on my hair.

The familiar creak of the bedroom door handle cuts through our shared panting and the dulcet tones of the Carly Simon CD. Mark. No. No. Nonononono, SHIT.

My body goes slack beneath Daniel's and I look back in mortified terror.

Mark stands in the doorway, fuming.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?"

A beat.

Daniel clears his throat "Oh. Erm. Hah. Mister. Darcy...you're home... earlier than anticipated. This is... awkward." he manages, sheepish.

Mark's eyes widen at the scene before him and I watch his face crumple momentarily as the information sets in.

Me. Ass up for Daniel Cleaver. On the floor of our bedroom. In our home. In the middle of the day. To Carly Simon. Mark exhales through his nose and he's bright red.

"Cleaver. May I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"Outside your wife or outside of the room?"

"You know what the bloody fuck I meant, now get the fuck off of my fucking floor!" He hisses, seething as he steps politely into the hallway.

"Right. Both then." Daniel mumbles into my neck, withdrawing from me and yanking on his clothes to follow Mark downstairs.

My body is hot lead and my head is hazy as I listen to the frantic yelling downstairs, something is thrown, -glass- it breaks, and finally, the front door slams shut. I hear Mark's footsteps bounding heavily up the stairs and I am well and truly fucked. In all manner of ways.

But all I can think about... is Daniel...

[slutforgnr]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐱𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐱𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐔𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐀𝐱𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲.

After hours of waiting you overheard harsh footsteps towards the dressing room and then he walked in. He rushed to the table with alcohol and took a sip out of the red cup while your eyes were glued to him, they scanned his entire body. He was wearing black leather pants and leather gloves to go with it. As soon as he finished drinking he made his way towards you.

He sat down pretty quickly and rested his head on his hand and peered at you. He looked deep into your eyes and a wicked smirk tugged at his lips.

“What?” you tilted your head and asked him curiously.

“You think I didn’t notice? Hm?..” he murmured in a raspy and deep voice which was a bit worn out from all the singing. his smirk grew even more.

You didn’t understand where he was going with this and he liked seeing you so clueless. it was the perfect way to tease you and get a reaction out of you.

“Notice what ,Axl?” You spoke more loudly and this time. You were getting frustrated to know what you had done.

He finally decided to give in, seeing your frustration grow made him feel satisfied. “Oh nothing..just the way your eyes undressed me the moment I walked in.” He chuckled a little and tilted his head slightly. “So impatient aren’t you darlin’?”

he smooched closer to you and closed off the small gap between the two of you. you could feel your heart beat faster by every second and your cheeks blossomed. Was it so obvious? You asked yourself.

Axl placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed against it with the leather glove, pushing up your skirt slightly higher. There was a pretty obvious bulge growing in his leather pants and you got a little distracted by it.

Axl’s finger toyed around with the thin fabric of your tights. His other hand landed on your chin, pulling your gaze to meet his. he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips, teasing you.

You shifted quickly onto his lap and wrapped your hands around his neck.

His eyes scanned your body, he eyed you as if you were his prey, his eyes filled with lust. He pushed up your skirt to your stomach and then ripped your tights, tossing the ripped fabric on the floor.

His fingers tugged down your lacy panties, you helped him out a little by leaning onto him so he could undress you fully.

When your panties were discarded, joining your tights on the floor, his fingers teased your slit, feeling how wet you were and he hasn’t even done anything.

“So needy for me huh?..” he teased you as you unbuttoned your white blouse with one hand and with the other you were trying to remove his gloves.

He took your hand into his and intertwined his fingers with yours, his hand bigger than yours. he stopped you from removing the gloves. He then leaned over to your ear and whispered.

“The gloves stay on…sweetheart”. You could feel his grin against your hot cheek as you were now curious of what he was about to do with you and what a crazy idea of his he had came up with, but you couldn’t say it didn’t excite you. cause it did. very.

His fingers explored your pussy and when he found your sensitive nub, he started to slowly rub his fingertip against it. A whine escaped your lips as his pace began to get faster. The leather rubbing against your flesh was making you even more turned on and frustrated by Axl’s quick movements you had to cling onto Axl for support now as your legs were already giving up.

“So wet already and i barely did anything..” he chuckled ,breathing more heavily while he was working on you.

You held onto Axl more tightly and mumbled his name into his ear, over and over again. you were a mess for him and he loved it.

“Come on say my name baby…I wanna hear it”. His finger shifted towards your entrance and without a warning he pushed a finger into you, stretching you out deliciously. There was a new found friction that you felt from the leather rubbing against your velvety walls

Your breathing got even heavier when Axl added another finger, showing no mercy on you, finger fucking your hole recklessly.

Axl smirked and gave you proud look and a nod while your insides were burning from the leather rubbing against you.

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure, your clit was all swollen and sweat was falling down from your forehead as you were trying to control your moans. Moments later you felt a familiar sensation in your gut and the feeling of your walls tightening around Axl’s fingers that were hitting that sweet spot each time he thrusted them inside you and curled them up at an angle. Axl noticed you tightening around him and he wanted to encourage you to cum, to push you over the edge.

“Cum for me sweetheart..come on be a good girl”. He whispered his encouragement playfully into your ear.

His fingers were hitting all the right spots, curling up inside you and your pussy was inviting them even deeper.

Your moans were now uncontrollable and you were practically screaming his name, but you couldn’t care less and neither did he. Axl always wanted everyone to hear how good he was making you feel because, he was the one that was making you such a pretty mess. And Axl being Axl, he wanted everyone to know.

He thrusted his fingers up inside you one last time before the knot in your gut snapped and your orgasm washed over you or more likely over his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of you, you whined at the loss of friction and your body slightly trembled. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead, his lips lingered there for a little before he pulled you against his chest, letting you get some rest.

He took off the glove with his teeth tasting a little of you in his mouth, he tossed the glove aside and dropped his lips to your ear again. “You..were amazing sweetheart” he whispered into your ear.

a.n : sorry if there are grammar mistakes, i wrote this at like 4am half awake lmao

[haerinari]

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE — 이 희승

PAiRiNG: bf!heeseung x insecure!fem!reader.

SyNOPSiS: you feel insecure about your body but Heeseung is always there to make you feel better.

WARNiNGS: kissing, skinship, kind of smut, mentions of the female body, insecurities, heeseung is a cutie, nipple sucking,

GeNRa: fluff, smut-ish, established relationship, short drabble.

now playing: just the way you are — bruno mars

Your back was resting in your bed, Heeseung softly on top of you kissing your lips while his hands were roaming all over your body.

Of course you’ve make out with him a few times before, but it never have gotten this far.

Your experiences of having sex with past of previous relationships didn’t end in the best way possible. Instead of being a beautiful and intimate moment with your partner to express the love you had for each other, it ended up in you crying in your bathroom floor.

we should turn the lights off…

damn—you have a lot of stretch marks.

you didn’t shave? uh—maybe we should stop.

your ass has a weird shape.

your boobs are too big.

i don’t wanna see your belly next time, alright baby?

You were so lost in your own mind that you didn’t even notice when Heeseung took your shirt off, leaving only the bra that was covering your breasts and your pants on.

“Hee…” you spoke softly, your forehead resting against his.

“Hmm? Are you okay, baby? We can stop if you want, no pressure. Take you time.” he said, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I just— are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I want to.” Heeseung stoped and sat on the bed, looking directly into your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? I love you.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that…” you sighted. “I don’t want to fuck up this moment because I really love you too, Hee.”

“Y/N, baby, it’s okay. You’re not going to fuck up anything, you can tell me whatever you want.” he took your hand and started kissing your knuckles.

“It’s just that—Boys have said things, about my body. And I don’t want you to think something related to that, you know? I mean—What if you think that my belly has a weird shape? Or you see that I have stretch marks on my waist and you don’t like them? Or—”

“Y/N!” Heeseung spoke, taking your hands between his hands and kissing your forehead. “I love you, okay? I, Lee Heeseung, Love. You.”

“I love your eyes.” he kissed a spot near them. “I love your hair.” then your head. “I love your lips.” he gave you a kiss. “I love every single inch of your body, and there’s no thing on this Earth that would make me change my mind.”

“You’re so fucking cute, oh my god.” you pulled him in a hug. no one has ever said such a beautiful thing about your body, and for the first time in a very long journey, you felt comfortable with yourself. “Thanks, Hee. I love you.”

“You’re going to let me take care of you now?” he smirked.

“Yeah.” you smiled.

Your boyfriend’s lips were in yours once again, his hands touching your breasts over your lacy bra. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your jaw and slowly getting down your neck. Your bra was now discarded somewhere on your room floor, and Heeseung’s kisses were slowly getting down to your tits.

“So perfect… So fucking perfect.” he murmured between kisses.

His mouth went to one of your nipples, sucking the bud softly and kissing it here and there. Your other nipple was between Heeseung’s fingers, who was pinching it to give you the perfect amount of pleasure. He then went to your other nipple, taking care of it like he did before.

Heeseung took his shirt off to now focus on trailing a path of kisses from the between of your breasts to where your pants started. He took them down a little bit, revealing your stretch marks on the side of your waist. He started to kiss them, every single stretch mark or imperfection visible in your body was getting touch by your boyfriend’s sweet and loving lips.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the entire earth.”

He got up and went to your kiss your lips again, a gesture of reassurance telling you he loved you and every single part of you.

[yoursinisforgiven]

TO THE BONE ──

pairing: asirel x reader (pet) 

cw: major character death, mentions of blood, themes of obsession(?), cannibalism(but not really?) 

you are responsible for your own media consumption

Vampires didn't eat humans.

It wasn’t necessary. They only needed the blood—the lifeblood that pulsed through the veins of their prey. The rest—flesh, organs, bones—was discarded, inconsequential. The blood was what sustained them, kept them alive, like a fragile tether between the undead and the living world. Everything else was little more than waste, nothing more than a physical shell.

It was rare that a human ever died during feeding. When it did happen, it was always a death of vanity, of ego—an act born of carelessness or hubris, a final refusal to acknowledge the fragility of life.

Vampires, for all their immortality, knew better than to squander the precious gift of life coursing through a human’s veins. Each drop of blood was an exchange, a delicate balance, a tether to something fleeting, something irretrievable. To kill a human unnecessarily was to insult the very essence of what they represented: mortality, impermanence.

But you hadn’t been a vampire your whole life. You hadn’t always known the rules, the boundaries, the limits of this new existence. And now, with Asriel, it was different.

When you first came into his life, it was transactional—an arrangement, a deal brokered in shadows, nothing more. You had been bought, bound by the chains of necessity, an unnatural creature cast in the role of a servant, a companion. He had taken you in, offered you sanctuary from the world, but always with that same unspoken distance. He was your owner, and you were his pet. There was nothing more to it.

Except now... now, there were thoughts—unbidden, raw, dangerous thoughts that gnawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to overtake you.

You wondered if Asriel had ever understood this. When he bought you from the trader, had he known the temptation he was inviting into his life? You were a vampire, yes, but you were also something else. You were... alive in ways he would never fully understand. You hungered in ways that went beyond blood. You hungered for him.

Could you eat him? Would it be wrong to want to?

You had fed on humans before. You had taken the life of others, but it was always just that—life. A fleeting moment, a mere transaction. Blood in, blood out. Nothing more, nothing less.

But Asriel was different. The thought of consuming him—of devouring him, not just for blood, but for everything he was—was something more than a craving. It felt like an ache, a longing that gnawed at your insides. What would it be like? To taste his skin, to swallow him whole and feel his essence merge with your own?

How would he taste, you wondered? Would his blood be sweeter, richer than any human’s? What would it be like to hold him in your grasp and feel him give himself up to you—not as a meal, not as a sacrifice, but as something offered freely? Something bound in love.

The thought, though unbidden, was growing stronger, more insistent.

You turned your gaze toward him.

Asriel was sitting at the desk, his back to you, hunched over some papers or letters, but there was a tightness in his posture, something you hadn’t seen before. His shoulders were drawn, his breath quickening ever so slightly. He was upset—no, hurt. You could feel the pulse of his emotions, the fragility of his heart, like a delicate thread weaving through his chest.

"Pet."

The sound of his voice tore you from your thoughts, sharp, but not unkind. The way he said it now, though, was different. There was a tremor to it. A softness that wasn’t there before.

You shifted in the window seat, pushing yourself upright, and turned your full attention toward him. Your eyes, dark with hunger, tracked his every movement.

“A—friend of mine has passed.”

"Vic."

"Correct."

A pity, you thought, though you hadn’t cared for the man much. Vic had been a fleeting presence in your shared world, just another human who had come and gone. But the sadness in Asriel’s eyes, the way his lips trembled as he spoke—that was different. You had never seen him like this before. He was usually so composed, so in control, like a marble statue that only cracked beneath the harshest of pressures.

But now, in the wake of his loss, there was vulnerability. There was a softness, a human fragility you hadn’t noticed in him before. You could hear the quickened beat of his heart, could sense the tension in his breath. He was grieving.

You let out a simple hum of acknowledgement, turning back to the window—It had begun to rain.

 ──

Vic’s death hadn’t affected you. You were certain of it.

A fleeting presence in your life—nothing more than another transient human whose absence wouldn’t be felt for long. You had seen it before, countless times. One life extinguished, only for another to take its place. In a world where your existence stretched on forever, the death of a human was like the fading of a candle’s flame, a momentary flicker before being snuffed out. It was inevitable.

But still, as you sat in the quiet room, the pulse of Asriel’s grief brushed against you. It wasn’t the kind of grief you were familiar with—no, this was human grief, raw and sharp, something that made Asriel tremble like a leaf in the wind. His emotions were spilling over in a way you hadn’t seen before, and it was like the walls between you and him were starting to erode.

Vic’s death, in its simplicity, made you think of Asriel differently.

Not about his grief—that was merely a ripple in the larger current—but about his mortality, his fragility. Vic had been here, in this very house, speaking with Asriel not too long ago, and now he was gone. Erased. A blink in the eternal expanse of time. The speed of it, the ease of it, unsettled you. Asriel had witnessed it, and perhaps that was why he was so different now, trembling in the wake of his own vulnerability.

You couldn’t help but wonder—if Vic could be gone so easily, then what about Asriel? Could he, too, vanish in a moment’s breath? Could his life, just as fragile, slip through your fingers the way all humans did, without warning?

That thought stung.

You were no stranger to death, not by any means. You had lived through decades of it. And yet, in the quiet ache of your bones, in the stillness of your immortal life, Asriel’s mortality became something more than a distant fact. It was close, too close. A silent echo of something you couldn’t hold onto.

Asriel was the last human tether in your world, the only one you still saw. And yet, you were forced to witness the truth you had so carefully kept at bay: He was dying, even now. Time marched on relentlessly for him, just as it had for Vic, just as it would for all humans. The clock was ticking.

This wasn’t about Vic. Not really. His passing was just a whisper in the wind.

But with Asriel, it was different.

He was here—alive, present, tangible. His heartbeat, fragile and fleeting, pulsed against the silence. Every breath he took felt like a prayer, and yet it was one that would eventually end.

The weight of that truth pressed down on you.

You turned from the window, the rain now heavier, drumming against the glass like the beating of a heart. Asriel sat at the desk, his hand still trembling slightly as he smoothed out a piece of paper. His gaze remained focused on the task before him, but his mind was elsewhere. He didn’t speak, but you could feel the tremor in the air—the unease, the weight of loss.

You stepped closer, silent as a shadow, your presence an almost imperceptible shift in the room. The tension was thick between you.

It was strange, how you had once been so content with the arrangement—the understanding between you. You were a vampire, bound to Asriel in a way that kept you anchored to this world, and yet you had always held the distance between you. He was the master, you the pet. It had been clear from the start, and it had made sense. You were a creature of shadows, of hunger, and he was human—he lived and died in ways you could never understand, perhaps once before you did but not anymore. 

And yet, here you were, standing so close, unable to ignore the gnawing ache that seemed to come from within you now.

You had fed on humans—thousands of them, in your long and endless life. Blood was life, and you had taken it, knowing its value. But this... this wasn’t about blood. This was different. This was about him. About Asriel.

 ──

Vampires didn't need to eat humans.

It was something you had to constantly remind yourself. It had been exactly one week since the announcement of Vic’s passing, and in that entire week, you had refused to feed from Asriel. He was catching on, ever so observant, even in his state of grief. His usual sharp eyes missed nothing, and though he didn't confront you about it, the subtle shifts in his behavior told you everything. His gaze lingered a little longer when you crossed his path. His voice, though soft, carried an edge that wasn’t there before. He had begun to notice the distance. The avoidance.

You couldn’t possibly drink from him. Not now. Not when you feared that you might lose control.

The hunger was different this time. The pull toward his blood, toward him, was no longer a mere craving for sustenance. It was deeper, darker. You could already feel it: the temptation to sink your teeth not just into his flesh, but into something more—something much more dangerous. To devour not just his blood, but his very essence. You couldn’t allow yourself that. Not again. Not with him. Not when you feared your instincts would overpower everything else, shattering what little you had left of your restraint.

You rolled to your side, the plush of the bed shifting beneath you, the familiar sensation of the sheets cradling your form doing little to ease the restless tension coiling in your chest.

You hadn’t been sleeping with Asriel as you usually did. The bed, once a shared space of silent comfort, had become too much of a reminder of your fragile boundaries. Instead, you had withdrawn to your own room. It had once been a punishment—a place where you were kept when you failed to obey, when you overstepped. But now, the cold emptiness of that room offered something else: protection. Protection for him, not just for you.

 ──

One week and four days since you last fed.

You were starving yourself. And part of you wondered if it would be the death of you.

Lying in your bed, you could feel the hunger clawing at your insides like a ravenous beast. You hadn’t left the room in days, the weight of the hunger pressing down on you. You longed to step outside again, to feel the air on your skin, but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you had starved this hunger into submission.

But it wasn’t just blood you craved. You craved him.

You lay on your back on your bed—you hadn't left this room in days, you longed to go outside again. 

But you couldn't. Not until this hunger starved itself out.

 ──

Two weeks had passed.

Two weeks of hunger.

The kind that gnawed at you from the inside, a relentless, insidious ache that swallowed reason and clarity whole. Your mind had grown foggy, disjointed from the constant need—no, the desperation—that pulsed through your every fiber. You hadn't left your room. You hadn’t dared.

You couldn't. Not until the hunger had been pushed, fought down into the depths of yourself where it could be ignored, buried under layers of restraint. Restraint. It was all that kept you tethered to your humanity—what little remained.

And yet, the thought of him lingered. Of Asriel.

The thought of him had become a dark obsession, an aching desire that filled the cracks where your restraint once lived. You could feel his presence all around you even now, even in the silence of your room. His heartbeat, the sound of his breath, the pull of his emotions—they were as much a part of you as the blood that ran through his veins.

But you couldn’t feed from him. Not yet.

There was still a part of you that clung to the rules, to the old teachings that kept you from crossing lines you knew, deep down, would destroy you both. You had lived through centuries of hunger, of temptation, but this—this was different. The hunger, now, was not just about survival. It was about possession. It was about him.

You wanted him in a way you had never wanted another human before. You wanted him to be yours in the most intimate, invasive way possible. To feel him inside you—not as a fleeting taste, but as a part of you forever. His blood, his life, everything about him, tethered to you in the dark expanse of eternity.

The thought made your skin burn.

You shuddered, pulling your knees closer to your chest, burying your face in the crook of your arm. You hadn’t slept. You hadn’t eaten. Not properly.

The hunger clawed at you in waves, now, suffocating you.

But then, a door creaked open.

The faintest shuffle of footsteps, and the air shifted, heavy with the weight of his presence.

"Asriel," you breathed.

It wasn’t a question, more a recognition. A statement of fact. He was here.

You didn't raise your head. You couldn't bear to face him. Not when the hunger threatened to consume you completely. He had been the cause of it—his presence, his blood, his life... and yet, he stood there, unwavering, as if he knew what you were, and perhaps even what you wanted.

His shadow stretched across the floor, and then, with a softness that made your chest tighten, he sat beside you.

"Pet," his voice, gentle but firm, brushed against your ear. “You need to feed.”

You closed your eyes, turning your face away, the sweet torment of his proximity pulling at the very core of your being. You could smell him—the warmth of his skin, the scent of the blood running beneath it, the subtle perfume of his body. It made your throat burn, a fire that you couldn’t quench.

“I don’t want to,” you said, your voice weak, barely a whisper. It was a lie. You wanted to, more than anything. But not like this.

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. He didn’t push you. He never did. Asriel had always been the one in control, even in his grief, even now. But now, there was something else behind his eyes—a sharpness, an urgency you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re starving, and you know it,” he said. “I’ve been patient. But this… this can’t go on.”

You wanted to tell him that you were fine. That you could control it. But your body betrayed you. The hunger twisted violently inside you, and you gasped, a soft, desperate sound.

His hand found yours, warm, strong. The touch made you flinch, but it didn’t let go. His voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m here. I want to help.”

Help.

It was the softest thing he’d ever said to you, and it cracked something deep inside of you. The ache deepened.

"I can’t..." you whispered again, even though it was a lie. Your mind screamed at you, but the hunger was louder.

Asriel sat beside you, the warmth of his body radiating against the cold, stifling air of the room. He didn’t speak at first, just remained there, the silence thick with unspoken words and the heavy, almost suffocating tension that hung between you.

His presence seemed to draw out every emotion, every need, every hunger you had pushed down for so long. You could feel him now, so close, his heartbeat like a steady drum in your ears, the pulse of his blood something you could almost taste on the air. The warmth of his skin, the scent of his flesh—it all combined into a heady perfume that dragged you to the edge of reason.

He knew what this was doing to you. He had to. He could feel the tremors in your body as you fought to keep your composure, to hold yourself back. You closed your eyes, fists clenched in the sheets, desperate to block out the overwhelming hunger that clawed at you from within. But it was impossible.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You turned your face slightly to the side, trying to hide the desperation that leaked through, the way your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. “I can’t…” you whispered again, barely able to make the words come out, the knot in your throat so tight it hurt. It was a lie. It had always been a lie. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face him, to let him see how far you had fallen.

But Asriel, in all his quiet intensity, didn’t let you pull away. His hand found yours, warm and firm, his touch a tether to reality that only seemed to pull you deeper into the storm of what you were becoming. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel his emotions swirling around you, a quiet storm of understanding, of patience, of something darker you hadn’t expected.

And that was the breaking point.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The hunger—no, it was more than hunger now—had become a need. A desperate, ravenous ache that was no longer just about blood. You needed him. Needed to consume him. To possess him in a way you could never let go.

The tears, unbidden, welled in your eyes, not out of sorrow, but out of the pure, unrelenting longing for him.

And as if the darkness in your heart had finally taken hold, you turned to him. His hand was still in yours, gentle and warm, but the need that twisted inside you surged like a tidal wave.

You lifted your gaze, and for the first time, Asriel’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. He saw you now. Truly saw you. The hunger, the wildness that had taken over your expression. He knew what you wanted.

Before you even fully realized it, your body moved without your command, your teeth instinctively elongating, the tips like sharp knives that could cut through flesh and bone with ease.

"Asriel..." you breathed, his name a prayer, a promise.

His breath caught in his throat, and he flinched slightly as you leaned closer, but he didn’t pull away. The distance between you vanished in an instant, and his pulse—steady and slow—became all you could hear, all you could feel. You could almost taste it on the air.

And then, with a sharp, desperate movement, you sank your teeth into the soft, vulnerable curve of his neck.

The taste was everything.

His blood rushed to meet you—hot, intoxicating, and thick with life. It poured into you like fire, flooding your senses, pushing out all thought, all restraint. His flesh beneath your lips, warm and soft, yielded to you without resistance. And as you drank, you felt the sensation of his life slipping away, merging with yours, binding you to him in a way you hadn’t understood until now.

You could feel his heart stutter in his chest, could feel the beat of his blood slow, and your hands clutched his skin tighter, pulling him closer, wanting more, needing more.

As you drank, the hunger—no, the need—grew inside you, more insistent, more desperate. The world narrowed to just him. To his blood, his life, the pulse of his soul. His blood was sweeter, richer than any human you'd ever tasted. It was more than sustenance. It was everything.

You wanted him to stay with you, wanted him to be part of you forever. The thought of him gone, of him fading like so many before him, was unbearable.

And then, just as quickly as the hunger had seized you, the reality of what you were doing hit. The way his blood filled you, almost like it was meant to, a union you never asked for, never wanted, but craved more than anything.

Your teeth sank deeper, the urge to consume, to keep him with you forever overwhelming you.

But then—then—he gasped. His body went rigid beneath you, a shudder running through him. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his pulse weakened, a soft, fragile flutter against your lips.

His hand gripped your wrist, weakly, his voice a rasping whisper against your ear, "Please…"

But it was too late.

You couldn’t stop.

And then he went still.

The warmth left his body in a rush. His heartbeat—the thing that had once thudded like the pulse of a drum—was silent. The warmth that had filled you was gone, replaced by a hollow coldness that spread through your chest.

You pulled back, the blood dripping down your chin, his limp body cradled in your arms. Your breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, but there was no more to take. He was gone.

A sharp, bitter grief sliced through you—harder than anything you’d ever felt in your immortal existence.

You had killed him. You had taken his life.

He had been there, right beside you, a person, a warmth, a tether to something real, and now… now he was gone. Gone forever.

You held him, cradled him in your arms as if he could be restored, as if there was some way you could undo what you’d just done. But there was no undoing it.

The tears finally broke free, slipping down your face, mixing with the blood on your skin. You had killed him.

A wave of guilt, hot and suffocating, crushed you. Your heart—if you could even still call it that—broke, and the ache was unbearable.

You had wanted him. You still wanted him. But not like this.

Not this.

And now, as you held his lifeless body in your arms, you realized the truth. You had consumed him, yes. But it had never been about feeding.

It had been about keeping him with you. Keeping him close, even after death. And now, in the emptiness that followed, you realized you had lost him. Not just the man, but everything he had been—the warmth, the gentleness, the connection.

He was gone.

And you were alone again.

──

author's note: i just finished bones and all and couldn't help myself. my letterbox in case any of you are interested.

and no, i don't proofread my work. (i should start though)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:

15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.

None of the hijackers were from Iraq.

None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.

None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.