#as per usual i messed up the shading
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kindred-spirit-93 · 6 months ago
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NEW MUFFIN ACQUIRED from this post
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move over theo i has found another muffin to drown in hot chocolate
also i drew him from memory for some reason idk why im like this XD
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couldnt decide which hair colour i liked best lol. THE JUMPER THO!!
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mondaymelon · 10 months ago
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₊⊹ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ♡. | genshin!various x gn!reader
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「 "𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩…"」
— in which you kiss him ... accidentally, and indirectly.
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𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 — kazuha, gaming, FREMINET, THOMA, KAVEH, chongyun, gorou
— "Ah, wrong cup."
It's a warm morning, yet the shade of the light canopy of trees provides ample comfort. At your words, however, the amicable conversation halts. Gingerly, you place his cup back on its saucer, uttering a quiet apology. "Sorry, sorry..."
Ugh, a quiet moment with someone you'd been pining after for ages, and you likely just sabotaged any chance you had. Making someone uncomfortable is surely not a way to have someone fall head over heels for you. You cautiously glanced upwards, catching the sight of... something you didn't expect...!?
He hid in his hand, raised and flush against his face. It was rather insufficient in the whole "hiding" department, however, for you could still clearly see the fluster on his features and the red cast across the tips of his ears. Just above the cover of his fingers were his eyes, hurriedly averted from yours. His mouth was slightly ajar, but in the moments that passed, his lips moved to form whispers you couldn't quite catch.
You stood, frantic. Really, every one of your plans was going awry. "I'm sorry! I, I'll go get you a new cup-"
"He caught his hand in his before you could fully depart, clutching it tightly. His usually cool skin was warm. "N, No, I- It's fine..."
He watched your face brighten with relief as you sat back down, completely cheery again, and released a breath quietly.
Ah, how was he supposed to tell you that the mere sight of your lips touching where he had put his made his heart skip a beat?
— It simply wasn't fair.
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𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — HEIZOU, KAEYA, CHILDE, venti, ayato, LYNEY
— "Wait, let me try..."
Word had gotten around of a new drink, supposedly "the best in all of teyvat"... naturally, that called for a timely visit. It didn't exactly matter who you went with, though who were you fooling, it did, and he'd been the first one that came to mind when you were drafting a letter. Now, he stood by your side, leisurely swinging his arms while he walked and smiling smugly.
The reason? The moment you reached into your pocket to fish out your wallet to pay the fee for two drinks, you'd found your pockets empty, and that's where he had swooped in, graciously handing over his mora instead. The moment the two of you exited the vicinity of the drink stall, however, he somehow materialized your wallet once more and placed it in your hands with a cat-like grin. That little... you'd be sure to treat him to a meal sometime soon, a favor like that couldn't just be gone unpaid.
...That, and it was a convenient excuse to spend another outing with him.
"Hey, you got the limited edition flavor? C'mon, give me just a sip..." You beamed when he handed said drink down towards you, taking a sip from his straw — until you realized just what you'd done, of course.
It wasn't like it was something dire, not by any means. You were rather the romantic, and the fact that... well, hadn't the two of you just kissed indirectly?
You didn't voice your thoughts, only meekly retreated after handing the bottle back to him, growing even more flustered when your fingers brushed against his in the process. He seemed to hear them, however, and a smirk made its way onto his lips.
"Oh, don't tell me you were aiming for an indirect kiss all along?"
"W- No!" Ugh, that twinkle in his eyes was dangerous. It's easy to see that he doesn't believe you in the slightest. Yet, before you can dispense another rebuttal, he reaches a hand up to your hair and makes a mess of it.
— "Aha, who knew you were so sly~"
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𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 — alhaitham, XIAO, albedo, diluc, neuvillette
— "Is something wrong?"
Well, not exactly "wrong", per se. Instead, there was definitely something wrong with you in particular.
The situation started off like any other would. You found the man in his usual place, and greeted him with a smile, to which he nodded in response. He was a busy person, so you'd decided to take the initiative and make him a boxed lunch, only planning to give it to him and then let him carry on with whatever tasks he needed to complete — only... hey, wasn't it too out of character of him to ask you to feed him??
He glanced up at you, his head subconsciously tilting to the side. Just with that simple movement, a figurative arrow struck your heart. "If it's too much trouble, nevermind-"
You awkwardly coughed into your fist, trying to disperse any awfully hopeful thoughts of "hey, isn't this so romantic!?" in your head — yearning for him was one thing, but projecting your imagination of him would be another entirely. "No, it's fine- I was just caught off guard, is all..." At this point, you were more so convincing yourself than him. You dipped your head in a nod to yourself. Of course, he was so swamped with duties that he couldn't spare the time to feed himself, that was the case, wasn't it?
"Here, open wide..." You took a portion of the food and lifted it up to his lips, and he ate it agreeably. Hamster. He's like a hamster, a thought you really shouldn't be having considering how his disposition was, but seeing him swiftly chewing the portion in his cheeks... you cleared your throat, only to flinch with a start upon realizing he'd taken the utensils from you. Now, he held some of the lunch up to you, gesturing it to your mouth.
"Eh, but this is for you-" You declined, yet the insistence in his gaze only grew.
"You brought it for me, so you should have some as well."
"Well... alright," not willing to bother with an argument you were not likely to win, you ate what he hovered before you gratefully, trying to ignore the way he was staring at you as you ate.
W, Wait, hold on, isn't that the same cutlery he used-
"Your face is red. Did you choke? Here, let me-"
"No, it's just that- we, just now- ah, it's nothing."
— "Mhm."
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( a/n ) new post format and its silly ( i hate everything about this ) :stareyes: ahahah anyways. trying to revive myself so. you guys get ( poorly cooked ) food :>
𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...
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hypnagogics · 7 months ago
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before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS
ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc
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apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.
covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.
you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.
watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.
the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”
you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.
“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”
she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.
she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?
you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.
she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.
“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.
“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.
“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.
you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.
your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.
you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable. 
your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.
she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord. 
“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her. 
you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.” 
she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.
flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away. 
you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip. 
“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman. 
you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.” 
you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”
some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?” 
and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense. 
you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-” 
your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.
after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.
you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.
she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.
she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.
she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both. 
your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.
she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.
fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.
trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?
you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times. 
ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place. 
“holy shit.” 
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im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)
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yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr
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specialgrades · 1 year ago
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CRiTiCAL HiT ! ⏤ select genshin men and their sensitive spots
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arataki itto, wriothesley, neuvillette
➜ ┊: cw ! porn without plot, monster fucking… kinda, dom!reader, nipple play, premature ejaculation, pet names ( sugar, baby, darling, my love ), reader’s gender not specified but is topping neuvillette ( could be read as a strap or a dick ), hair pulling, neuv is kinda ooc but we're gonna ignore that for now, cumming untouched, not beta read we die like men
notes. whoa hey. i'm kinda popping off recently. anyway this is only three characters cause they're the only ones i'm horny for. if you think i have a particular favourite you're probably right. dividers by cafekitsune as per usual, backbone of tumblr fr!
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ARATAKi iTTO — horns
such a big man reduced to a whimpering mess if you stroke his horns! god forbid you do it while he’s already experiencing other stimuli…
itto’s grunts and groans mixed in with your own moans as his hips snapped against yours. his hair falling in his face as he hung his head, fangs almost piercing his lip with how hard he’s biting it. your hands gripping at the sheets as he makes it his mission to rearrange your guts. one particular thrust has his tip hitting that spot deep inside you directly; a broken scream leaving you as your hands flew up to him for anything to ground yourself with. fingers wrapping around his red oni horns, tugging as he keeps hitting that spot. itto moans loudly, hips stuttering. “sugar, don— oh fuck—!” you tug again, oblivious to his protests until you feel him cum inside of you a lot quicker than usual. his body shakes as he does, whimpers leaving him. he knew his horns were sensitive, but not that much; and god did it feel good. you blink at him, hands still holding onto his horns. “did you jus’... cum from having your horns touched?” you manage, shuttering as he slowly fucks his cum deeper into you. “sensitive— ah-!” he yelps when you tug again. any semblance of dominance he had slipped away as you played with his horns. his cock twitched back to life at record speed, his hips moving on their own. “fuck sugar, don’t stop… tug ‘em harder— jus’ like that, fuck! fuck…” he cums again, crying out as he did.
WRiOTHESLEY — chest
wrio never knew that his chest was that sensitive, he always just ignored that part of his body during his own time. your wandering hands change that…
wriothesley’s kisses were always hungry, sloppy. he doesn’t have much experience, but his eagerness to devour you every time your lips connect isn’t something you’d trade for the world. he helps you tug his tie off and undo his vest, the fabric hanging loosely off of his shoulders. all without breaking the kiss you had pulled him into a few minutes prior. your fingers work on the buttons of his dress shirt while he toys with the hem of your shirt. same fingers pushing under the fabric of his shirt, index fingers brushing against his nipples as you moved. wriothesley surprised himself with the moan that escaped him when they did, freezing up for a second. he feels you smirk against him, fingers brushing over his nipples again. he caught the moan this time— though barely— shaky noises escaping him as his nipples hardened under your touch. his slacks feeling even tighter than they did when you began undressing him. “sensitive, are we?” you ask against his lips. he’s trying to focus and doesn’t respond instantly; causing you to lightly pinch the buds. he whines, body unsure if it wants to push against or pull away from the sensation. “y-yes! don’t—” he breaks the kiss as he tosses his head back, eyes squeezed shut and bottom lip tugged between his teeth. you look down to his pants, part of the light grey turned a darker shade from how much he’s leaking just from your teasing. “let’s see…” you let go of his chest to walk him back against his desk. he had fully intended to fuck you against it not even five minutes ago, but the tables had turned. he felt your gaze on the evident bulge in his pants, wiggling his hips in hopes it’d get you to touch him. you did, but not where he wanted you to. pushing his shirt and vest from his shoulders to fully expose his torso, you went for his chest again. whimpers and moans spilled from him as you toyed with the sensitive skin. a particularly loud moan that caused him to bite his hand to silence himself when your tongue flicked against the left one. he felt the coil in his stomach tighten as your tongue swirled around the bud, your fingers tweaking the one your mouth wasn’t on. he shrugged the rest of his shirt off, hand gripping your shoulder as he thrusted his hips up into nothing. “baby ‘m gonna— please— fuck fuck fuck-!” he gripped you tight as he came untouched, cum soaking his underwear and pants. he shuttered when you gave one last pinch to his nipples, breathing hard when you pulled away. “hm… cute.” you surmise, running your finger along the wet spot of his pants. he pulled away from your touch, sensitivity heightened. you smiled at him, cupping his face gently. “think you got one more in you, baby?”
NEUViLLETTE — ears
it’s law that pointy elf ears are sensitive. argue with a wall. the iudex is no exception…
neuvillette buried his head into the pillows, shaky breaths turning into moans as the sound of skin hitting skin. he felt your lips on his nape and shoulder— licking, biting, sucking the skin there as you fucked into him. his cocks rubbing against the pillow you put under his hips and staining the cotton. pulling away from his shoulder after nursing the bruises you left, your eyes focus on the pointy ears of the iudex. your curiosity got the better of you and before you could stop yourself, your tongue darted out to lick at the shell of his ear. neuvillette shuttered and moaned, hole clenching as pleasure ran through his body. “darling not there plea—” he cut himself off with a moan when the mixture of you hitting his prostate and your tongue running along his ear made his entire body light on fire. “your weak spot, hm?” you muse, your voice rumbling against his skin. he moaned, nodding as he moved his hips to get more friction on his dicks and to fuck back against you. “please…” he mumbles, so close with the mixture of all the stimuli happening at once. “more…” he begs weakly. he doesn’t expect you to give in so easily, but he’s been so good all day you cave; pulling back until just the tip was inside him before harshly snapping your hips against his ass. you lightly bit the tip of his ear as you did, tongue still running along the cartilage. the iudex cried out, arching further into the mattress as he felt the coil begin to snap. “please let me cum darling, please ‘s too much please-!” he cries, trying so hard to hold back from cumming until you give him the green light. “so soon, neuvi? your ears that sensitive?” he nodded, rain hitting the window as you brought him closer to the edge. you hum, breath hot on his ear. “go on, my love…” you lick his ear again. “cum.” he does almost instantly, crying out as he makes a mess of the pillow and his stomach. he collapsed onto the mattress, small shocks going through his body from the intensity of his orgasm. you give him a minute before sitting up, hand wrapping around his hair and horns. with a tug he’s pulled flush to your chest. high pitched yelp left him as you did, feeling your breath against his other ear now. “let’s see where else you’re sensitive, hm?”
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 21 days ago
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To Those Who Wait 2
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.
Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett
Note: yeah, I couldn't resist.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖
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“Busy?” Vivica hums with doubt. “Again.” 
“Sorry, Vic, I just... can’t,” you roll your eyes at your reflection. No, the eye liner is too much. You think mascara’s fine. 
“What’s going on?” Her voice rises from your phone as it rests amid the mess of your bathroom counter. “Ever since your birthday, you’ve been kind of a bitch.” 
She isn’t wrong. You twist the wand of the mascara and pop it from the tube. You sigh. 
“I know, I’m sorry. Better reason for you all to go without me,” you say. “I don’t want to bring you down.” 
“Hm, fine,” she lets her disappointment through. “But you’re getting coffee with me soon. I’m worried.” 
You nod and brush through your lashes. “I’ll let you know what I’m free.” 
You sniff as she tuts noisily. “Fine, I’ll wait.” 
“Go, have fun,” you insist. “Text you later.” 
“Right, sure.” 
You tap the red button and the call ends. You slide the wand into place and twist the mascara shut. You fighting a losing battle here. You drop the tube and throw your head back, heaving out a breath. 
You don’t even know why you’re doing this. It’s a joke. A date? You’ll just be letting down one more person. You hate to waste Curtis’ time. Hence, why you haven’t told anyone about it. You don’t need them to know about another fuck up. 
The phone buzzes. You roll your eyes and press your fingerprint to the screen to unlock. You expect another long lecture typed out by Vivica, instead, it’s Curtis. Is he already here? No, you’re not ready. You bend to read his message. 
‘Hey, if you got em, wear sneakers or hiking boots.’ 
You squint. Huh? Is he taking you on a hike? Wow. Well, you suppose you deserve that kind of effort. Besides, you’re really not in the mood for a crowded restaurant where you have to pretend to know the appetizer sharing etiquette. 
‘I can dig some out’ you type back. 
You step back and sift through your sparse make up. You pick out a shade of lip gloss closest to your natural hue. Is it really necessary? Why are you even trying? You know how this ends. You pop your lips and snap the cap into place. 
Maybe he’s a murderer. Somehow, that doesn’t scare you. Even as the pieces seem to fall into place. He’s taking you out alone. Somewhere he’s kept a surprise, and he told you to bring sporty shoes. You expect you might be running from an axe in the woods soon enough. Not such a dire end considering. 
You shake off the absurd thought. You don’t want to look like you went overboard. Curtis has been so casual about all of this. Yeah, casual. Just put on something simple. 
The black jeans could easily be mistaken for nicer pants. The turtleneck isn’t too much either. Blue cotton with little white daisies. You’ll put a cardigan over it and pull on your hiking boots. Wow, a dream come true. A date in Sorel avant garde. 
Your nerves begin to go wild. You don’t know why. It’s not a real date, it’s a courtesy. He asked so you might as well just go. You grab your phone and wait on the couch, a youtube video babbling unheard from the television. 
Your phone vibrates. You sit up. It’s Curtis. 
‘Here. I think.’ 
‘I’ll come down’. You type back. 
You get up and hurry around. You grab your crossbody bag and your keys. You shoulder out the door and lock it behind you. Your phone buzzes once more. 
‘Right by the door.’ 
You come out and look around, searching the cars parked along the curb. Your attention is drawn back to the motorcycle between an SUV and Honda Accord. You approach Curtis as he hugs a second helmet under his arm. 
“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers the helmet. 
You take it as you process the full picture. The matte black tank, the leather saddle bags in the same shade as his jacket and gloves, the steel gray exhaust and thick tires. You nod. 
“Not at all.” 
“I shoulda warned you,” he says. 
“I’ve been on one before,” you assure him as you pull on the helmet and loop the strap under your chin. 
“Oh?” 
“I know, I don’t look like the type. I’m not.” You flip the visor down. 
“Ah, well, whoever he was, hope he didn’t spoil the ride completely,” he says, “get on.” 
He turns and straddles the bike, kick back the stand. You hesitate then reach for his arm. You climb up behind him and swing your leg over. You wince as you land on the seat. Ouch, you’re still a bit sore down there. 
“Gonna have to hang on tight,” he pats his side. 
“Sure, uh... right.” 
You hook your arms around him. This is an easy gag for a man. Get a woman nice and close under the fear she might become road kill. Slick. 
“You ready?” He rolls the bike towards the street. 
“Ready,” you assure him. 
He starts the motor and revs. He angles around and speeds off down the road. You pull yourself closer as the wind tunnels around you. The smell of leather fills your nose as you close your eyes. It’s not awful, is it? 
When you look again, you’re head towards the town line. You watch the trees grow thicker as he steers along the country roads. That paranoia rises again. It would be just your luck. Look what happened the other night. 
You lift your head and peek over his shoulder. He rides up to a farm and comes a halt. He plants his feet in the dirt and kills the engine. A thrum lingers in your muscles as the roar of the bike dulls your hearing. 
“We’re here,” he proclaims. 
You take his cue. You get off first and he parks the bike with a kick of the stand. You wiggle the helmet off and look up at the farmhouse and the barn further back. Your brows pinch together curiously. 
“It’s not that lame, I promise.” He takes your helmet and hangs it with his on the handle bar.  “Friend of mine owns the place. He let me have it for the night.” 
“Mhm, good friend.” 
“Yeah, he can be,” he removes the saddlebags from the back of the bike and waves you on. “That way, just around the back.” 
You nod and turn away. You stride up along the side of the house. It’s an old-fashioned place. Faded wood and peeling paint. You pause before you can pass it completely. You look back at him as he nearly runs into you. 
“Everything alright?” He asks. 
You look him in his stormy gray eyes, “you’re not going to kill me, right?” 
He snorts and his cheek dimples. “I can’t guarantee no blood but that’s far from the plan.” 
You frown. What a strange answer.
You shrug and turn back to your path. You come out around the back of the house, sown fields in the early stages of growth behind a large board painted with circles. A ply wood target. A picnic table across from it with a clutter over one half. You cross your arms as you near. 
“Hatchet throwing,” he puts the saddle bags on the table. “Thought it would be fun. Something a little less... crowded.” 
“Oh?” You tilt your head like a squawking crow. 
He lifts one of the axes and holds it up. “Good stress relief.” 
“Mm,” you reach for one, less confident in your grasp. 
He turns to the target and extends his arm towards it. “You wanna keep a light but sturdy grip,” he says. “You don’t want it to catch.” 
He bends his arm back and swings it ahead again, letting the hatchet fly with easy. You flinch as it thunks into the target, just off-center. Your lips slant. 
“You got a lot of experience?” 
“Well, I started with darts at the bar but didn’t like all the drunks. There’s a place you can pay to do this in town but it’s pricey and loud,” he says. “So... I put this together.” 
“Yeah, probably not worth the money.” The words hang in the air, a question whether you mean the activity or yourself. 
“Go ahead.” 
“Uh, oh,” push your bag behind you and look at the target. “I...” You raise your arm, try to line up your aim, then drop it down. “I can’t.” 
“You want a few tips?” 
“Think I need them.” 
“Alright, no problem. It’s no biggy. Worst that happens, it lands in the dirt.” He comes close and lightly guides you by your shoulders, standing you perpendicular to the target. “Alright, bring it up.” 
You raise your arm and he helps you line up. He gets even closer and nudges your feet with his scuffed boots to get you in position. “That’s it, just like that.” 
You grip the axe tighter and your eyes widen. Those words hit you like the blade, slicing deep. The body on top of yours, his rasping cooes, and his cruel thrusts. You blink away the vision of Hugh and shudder. 
“Here,” Curtis touches your hand, “loosen up. Pull back. Yeah, you got it.” He steps back, “when you’re ready, let it fly.” 
He stands away from you and watches. You bite down and stare at the target. All your frustration and fear bubbles in your chest. You narrow your eyes and take a breath. You fling the hatchet without restraint. The thunk in the wood is deafening. 
Curtis whistles, “wow, good shot.” 
You turn straight to examine the board. Your shot is opposite of his, right on the line with the bullseye.  
“Lucky,” you say. 
“I dunno, you seem like a natural,” he crosses the ground and pulls out the hatches. “Wanna toss a few more? Build up an appetite?” 
“Uh, sure,” you agree. “It is kind of fun.” 
“I think so. Even more when you have company,” he approaches and offers the hatchet. “I packed a picnic so we won’t have to chew on seeds.” 
You glance at the sprouting fields. You laugh. It was a little fun. 
“Got one,” he spins the hatchet in his hand. “You go first. Since you won first round.” 
“What? No I didn’t.” 
“You were closer so... that’s a win. Champ.” 
“Alright, no need for the sarcasm,” you shake your head. 
“I’m a sore loser,” he winks. “So, take it easy on me and I might lighten up.” 
🎯
The rumble of the engine stays with you as you climb off the bike. Curtis cuts the engine and flips down the stand. He takes off his helmet as you descend back to earth. Literally. Somehow in those last three hours or so, he kept the world from invading your mind. 
“That was nice,” he says. “I think.” 
You hold the helmet in your hands, a good way to keep them still. You look down and crack a smile. He hangs his on the bike. 
“Another one huh?” He says and you pop your head up. “Got another smile.” 
You blush and shake your head, “I don’t know. I guess.” 
“You had fun?” He asks. 
“I did,” you contend and hand over the helmet. “Thanks. For everything.” 
“No, thank you.” He holds the helmet at his side and stares at you. The streetlights cast ominous shadows over him. He shifts so his sole scrapes the ground. “I hope maybe we can do it again.” 
“Er...” you’re struck by the suggestion. Again? Like a second date. That can’t be real. Not after everything. Oh bitter irony. “Sure, Curtis. I think next time I could let you win.” 
“Yeah, next time,” he rasps. He leans in and you realise what’s happening. He’s going to kiss you. Oh. 
“Ugh, oh,” you trip on nothing and hop up on the curb. “Oops, sorry, it’s so dark out here.”  
He recoils and clears his throat, “yeah, uh, you want me to walk you to the door?” 
“Uh, no, no,” you put your palms up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.” 
“Alright,” he says despondently. “Have a good night.” 
“Yeah, you too.” 
“I’ll text,” he mutters. 
“I’ll answer.” 
You spin and cringe at your building. You suck. You're a dork. Ew. Ew. Ew. 
You march up the walk and don’t stop until you’re inside. You blew it. So close but so far. Just like you expected. Well, then you can be that disappointed. 
You retreat to your apartment and slam your phone down. You won’t think about it. He has to drive home and he won’t text tonight anyway. You just hate a date. A date! 
Was it really real? After everything? You think so. 
You sink onto the couch. You hold your chin and pick your lip. Just another day and you’d be in la la land. This would be heaven. One more day and you may have let him kiss you. Before you were used up and tarnished. 
Ugh. Why couldn’t you have just let it happen? Because those things don’t happen to you. Romance isn’t for you. It’s for other people. And people lie. Even Curtis. Maybe he won’t text after all. 
You lean back and turn on the television in resignation. You put on an early 00s sitcom with a sadly departed main star. That’s how life is. When it’s good, it goes wrong, or it’s just over. When it’s bad, that’s when it seems eternal. 
You cross your legs then think better of that. Even with all the lube, there’s a lot of damage done. Nothing serious, just sensitive. It was your first time. You don’t imagine it gets better. 
Your phone buzzes at the end of episode two. You nearly jump off the sofa. Don’t be stupid. 
You get up, patiently, and get your phone. You sit down again before you unlock it. The message that comes up isn’t from Curtis. Or Vivica. Or Mila. Or Jerrod. 
It’s from WhatsApp. You only ever used that for... 
‘You lookin’ for another weekend fling?’ 
You stare at Hugh’s message. You deleted the conversation but you recognise the number. The two checkmarks turn green to show you’ve read the message. God dammit. 
You don’t answer. You can’t. You’re mortified. You crash back to earth with startling speed. You can’t undo that. Worse, you don’t think you’ll ever get past it. 
You clear all your apps and put your phone on do not disturb. 
You stretch out on the couch and focus on the TV. Not really. It just glares in your vision as you stare through it. As you can hear nothing but a distant whistle. You stay like that, fractured, until your consciousness slowly falls away. 
You’re back in the hotel room. Alone one minute then pinned to the bed. The ceilings tear open as Hugh fucks you. You’re gushing around him, the smell of blood fills the air with iron. You meld with the blankets, shrouded in them, then suddenly thunder roars through the space. 
Curtis rides in on his motorcycle. How? A hatchet flies and hit the headboard, glancing by your cheek. You look past Hugh’s writhing body, completely oblivious of the other’s man disgusted glares. 
“Slut.” 
The word wakes you. You jolt up and hold your head dizzily. The windows are glazed over with the soft tones of morning. You groan and turn your legs over the edge of the couch. 
You get up to make your coffee. The dark roast brew and the aroma eases your nerves. You grab you phone out of habit and sit down. You have another message. You put the phone down. 
You go back to the kitchen and fill a mug. You drink in silence. You take the cup into the bathroom and shower before you finish the dregs. As you sit to pee, you wince. It’s been a week. It’s still painful but you’re sure it’s all in your head. After all, your pride hurts worse than anything else. 
You rinse your cup, pick up your phone, and determine to delete the message. As the chat opens, you’re stopped by the image there. You nearly drop it. Instead, you lean on the counter is gasp. 
‘Thot I was ur 1st' the message reads beneath the photo of you and Curtis in the yellow cascade of the streetlight. 
The checkmark fills and three bubbles pop up. Fuck. The next text comes quickly. 
‘How would ur bf feel about u fucking strangers?’ 
‘Not my bf. Leave me alone.’ Your thumbs tap furiously and you hit send. 
He sends a laughing emoji and the dots appear again. ‘I got a discount. Just 4 u.’ 
‘No thx. Not interested’ 
‘Didn’t ask don’t care but think I know who would’ 
You huff and hang your head back. You don’t get it. Why is he doing this? He got his fee and you got what you paid for. 
‘No. Pls don’t message again.’ 
You bring down the menu and delete the conversation and block the sender. It isn’t until after that that you realise. He took that picture outside your building. He knows where you live. How? 
The police? Would they do anything? Would they believe you? You just deleted the evidence. 
He’s bluffing right. He just wanted more money. You’re not stupid. Come on. You are a wallet to him, nothing more. You’re not naive enough to think he enjoyed it any more than you did. It’s business to him. He did his job and he got a pretty penny. If you could get that much for a few hours, you’d be hustling too. 
It’s just a poor attempt at blackmail. A hail mary for any extra pay check. Too bad for him, you don’t have that type of money. You already splurge on regret. 
You’ll keep an eye over your shoulder but you really doubt it’s anything more than greed. He must have a dozen clients. Hm... that thought doesn't make feel you better. You don’t know that you’ll ever really feel good again. Did you ever before? 
📱
“I know it’s cliche but I told you, I’m not exactly the creative type,” you settle in at the table and look through the cafe window. 
“I told you, I trust your judgment. And can’t go wrong with coffee,” Curtis says. 
“Guess not, but I’ve had some shitty coffee in my day.” 
His cheek dimples and he tilts his head in agreement, “me too. I’m not some coffee snob but some of the water they serve around town.” 
“You’re talking about Smokey’s, right? They serve ash-flavoured piss. Oh, sorry, I...” you give a sheepish smile. “I got carried away.” 
“You’re right though,” he snorts. 
“Ha, thanks. Mila disagrees. She keeps trying to convert me.” 
“Sounds like Jensen but with those acid energy drinks. I told him, he’s going to have a heart attack.” 
“Ew, those things are worse. It’s like someone made mountain dew worse.” 
He chuckles. That doesn’t happen often. “Wow, I should bring you in as backup. Then he might actually listen.” 
The barista comes with your drinks and you thank her. You ordered a tea latte, not your usual fare. Curtis eyes it as he cradles his cup of dark roast between his large hands. 
“I’m not much of a tea person but that looks interesting.” 
“London Fog. Just very foamy Earl Gray,” you explain. 
“Ah,” he nods thoughtfully. Your bag vibrates and you elbow it back on your hip. Not right now, Mila. “Not to be socially awkward but you like horror movies?” 
“I like them but they still scare me,” you say. 
“Really? Something actually scares you?” 
“What do you mean?” You scoff. 
He stares at you. “Do you really not know?” 
“Know... what?” 
“You’re terrifyingly hard to read,” he says. “You’re so lock and key that it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. Easy to assume you want to scoop my guts out with a plastic spoon.” 
“I’m not much for slashers, I’m more into psychological scares,” you counter then catch yourself. You smile. “Sorry. I’m not... you know, I can be a bitch but I’m not really one.” 
“That isn’t what I meant.” 
“I know, I just don’t know how else to say... if I look at you like a rabid dog, I swear, I’m just thinking.” 
“Yeah, Jensen says I have RBF too.” 
“RBF?” You wonder. 
“Resting Bitch Face, although he started calling it Raging Curt Face.” 
You laugh. He does too. The last bit of ice melts away. 
“I’m on a roll today,” he says. “So I may as well ask, wanna come over and watch scary movies?” 
🍿
The mood is set. The curtains are drawn to darken the room and the television glows as the only source of light in the space. Not much of a beacon as the images on the screen remain in shadow as the grinding soundtrack drones from the speakers.
You sit on the couch, enthralled by the manic horror of the character’s shallow breaths. 
You jerk as something brushes over your shoulder. You quickly still yourself as you realise what it is. Curtis stretches his arm over your shoulders. 
“Scared yet?” He asks. 
You giggle, “only a little.” 
He stays close and you don’t push him away. It’s such a weird feeling. To have someone in your space but you don’t mind it. To be honest, it’s comforting. 
You stare at the screen as the tension builds. As a loud noise frightens you, you jolt and lean into Curtis. He curls his arm snug around you. Then the next startling twist comes and you turn your face into his shoulder. 
“You didn’t say you were a baby,” he teases. 
“Oh, hush,” you speak into his shirt. 
“Hey, it’s alright,” he grits and brings his hand up under your chin. “I’ll protect you from the boogeyman.” 
You glower up at him and he sighs, “don’t look at me like that.” 
“How can you tell how I’m looking at you?” 
“I can feel it,” his thumb rubs your chin and he leans closer. 
You swallow as he keeps coming. You don’t stop him. You’re stuck. Your body won’t answer the screaming in your head. He presses his lips to yours and you let out a soft noise. He presses his mouth against yours for a moment then pulls away. 
He’s quiet as you puff you, your heart racing. “Was that okay?” 
You cough, “uh, yeah... sorry, I... I’m surprised.” 
“Can I do it again?” He asks. 
You quiver and nod, “sure.” 
He kisses you again. This time his tongue traces the crease of your lips. You open to him, unsure what you’re supposed to do. He delves within as he cradles your head and squeezes you closer. 
A warmth creeps up your body. Cozy at first. Intoxicating either. But it keeps burning. Hotter and hotter as his hand slithers down your back. His groan triggers a tickle in your brain and nearly bite down.  
You touch Curtis’ chest and urge him away. He reluctantly parts and slackens his hold on you. You stand up without a word. 
“Everything alright?” He asks. 
“I need your bathroom. Sorry.” 
You hurry away, staggering through the dark, and close the bathroom door behind you. You flip the light on and stomp to the tub, sitting on the porcelain as you drop your head into your hands. What the fuck? What is wrong with you? 
That wasn’t bad. It was great. You were getting somewhere. You were having a normal experience. It’s like you just can’t let yourself win. 
You smack your cheek, then your other. You do it a few more times before you sit up straight. God! What a disaster. What a stupid woman you are. You can’t even blame anyone but yourself. You did this to yourself. 
You ran away from Curtis. You came in here to mope. And you hired Hugh. 
No, don’t-- that’s not relevant. You’re forgetting that. It didn’t happen. You’re trying to move on. You can move on. Curtis doesn’t have to be your penance; he can be your antidote. 
There’s a knock at the door. You stare at the wood. 
“Yeah?” 
“Are you okay?” Curtis asks. 
“Yep.” You call back. 
“I’m sorry if... if that was too much. If I went too fast,” he says. 
You huff and stand. You drag your feet to the door. You make yourself open it and face him. He turned the lights on. You ruined the night. 
“I think maybe I should just go. I’m sorry I spoiled the movie,” you say. He doesn’t move. 
“What? I paused it. It’s fine. We can finish it.” 
“No, Curtis, I’m just... I keep... aren’t you tired of me yet?” 
He shakes his head, “no, are you tired of me?” 
You clamp your lips and pop them in exasperation. “No.” That makes this harder. Because you aren’t tired of him. Because you do like him. 
“So why are you running away?” 
He grips the door frame. He’s a big man. He doesn’t have to let you leave but you know if you say you want to go, he will. For a moment, his size reminds you of another person. One who didn’t listen. One who didn’t hear your 'stop'. 
“This is really embarrassing but I’m just going to be honest otherwise you’ll just think I'm insane,” you throw your hands up. “I’ve never, uh, never... had... someone before. You know? Never been on any dates, er, until you.” 
He nods and his expression stays the same, “alright.” 
“So yeah...” 
He narrows his eyes, “is that it?” 
You stare at him. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.” 
“I don’t care about that. I care about us, you know? About right now. So then or whenever, it’s not important. But right now I can be patient. I can take it slow.” He drops his hand from the frame. “We can just watch the movie. That’s it.” 
You look down and slump, “I’m sorry.” 
“Don’t be,” he gently touches your arm. “I don’t want you to be sorry because you did nothing wrong. Thank you for telling me.” 
You don’t say anything else. You’re too mortified to muster more than a grumble. You reach for the light switch but he stands as a wall between you and escape. 
“One more thing though,” he says, “I’m not just someone. I'm your boyfriend.” 
You falter and clasp your hands in front of your stomach, “boyfriend?” 
He smiles, “I can wait for my girl. That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” 
He offers his hand and you consider it as your lips curve without a thought.  You accept the offer and latch onto his large hand.  
“Guess I’ll find out,” you say.” 
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zerokurokawa · 7 months ago
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It's my birthday in a few days and I got the bonten symbol right where sanzus is for my birthday. Could you possibly write a story of sanzu x female reader where she got the same tattoo to show she belongs to him?
Just Like A Tattoo | Bonten!Sanzu x Reader <3
Sanzu was a mess, as always. He was hard to keep up with, especially with all of the drugs and spastic things he would do. You loved the man even though he was a handful. Sometimes, out of the blue, he would question your loyalty to him - saying things like along the lines of whether or not you would do anything for him or even stay by his side forever. You promised him over and over again that he was the one for you, no matter what. 
You had plenty of conversations relating to the topic of loyalty. Sanzu would understand and then be right back to questioning the next day. 
"You promise me, y/n, that you'll forever be mine?" He would say in the car on the way home. He was driving all over the road while you held on to the side handles, breathing in and out for your dear life. He was high, as usual, but insisted on driving you both home. Him being overly emotional in this particular moment didn't help either. So you answered as calmly as possible, trying not to set him off as he was already driving all over the road. 
"What do I have to do to prove my loyalty to you?" You ask as he continues to switch lanes, going ninety miles per hour down the freeway. 
"I don't know, I just know that you're mine. Nobody else can have you." 
Those words rang through your head the entire drive home. You had to find a way to prove to him that you were forever bound to him. Your body, mind, and soul belonged to him. You may not be able to do much about the mind and soul part, but you came up with the idea of giving more than just sex to him when it came to your body. 
_____________________________________________________________________________
The next day while Sanzu was at work with Bonten, attending meetings and whatever, you decided to go to the same place they all went to get their Bonten symbols - a tattoo shop at the corner of an alleyway. It was a sketchy place to be in the first place, but due to your loyalty and need to prove it, you went anyway. 
Alone, you sat in the chair as the man began to shave your forearm and prep the place where you would be getting the same Bonten symbol as Sanzu, right in the same place as his. You knew this decision was spur of the moment and the tattoo would be for life, but your loyalty to Sanzu would then be proven. You watched as the man placed the stencil on your arm and began to drag the tattoo gun across your skin. 
You had thought about the pain and how much it would hurt due to it being on a rather sensitive place, however, you kept your mind on Sanzu the entire time. You knew this was going to make him believe your words and even make him happy. The tattoo needle almost felt like bee stings over and over again as you whined in pain. The lines weren't so bad, it was the shading and detailing of the symbol that made your face squelch in slight pain. 
Once the man was done, he wrapped the fresh ink in second skin - a clear film that is great for fresh tattoo healing - and gave you instructions on how to deal with peeling and bleeding if need be. You nodded your head in response and went on your way. 
______________________________________________________________________________
"Where have you been, baby?" He asked as you walked into your shared apartment. You were surprised to see him home so soon. However, he walked over and did what was expected - grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you to the sofa. Although the tattoo was technically on your forearm, the pain radiated down your arm so when he grabbed your wrist, you snatched it away out of instinct. He gave you a confused look. 
"What's wrong?" 
"Nothing, I just, did a thing today." You smirked at him. You were excited to show him your fresh ink. You were proud of it, since it was your first tattoo you had ever gotten. 
"What did you do?" Sanzu asked, scared of your response. You then lifted up your sleeve to show him the tattoo you had gotten in bounds to him. His jaw dropped and it quickly turned into a bright smile as he slightly held your arm up to admire the tattoo you had gotten - just for him. 
"Y/n... You did this for me?" He said, holding your arm gently as he knew you were probably still sore from the needles grazing your skin. 
"I wanted to prove to you that I'm by your side, permanently." You smiled, hoping he would get the pun you had made. Sanzu was over the moon as he couldn't stop staring at the Bonten symbol on your arm. You had finally did it. You had proved your loyalty to him. 
He knew that it wasn't just a tattoo, it was a symbol of love and commitment. He was proud of you. 
(A/N: Sorry I'm a bit late, but Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy!)
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portraitofalinkonfyre · 2 months ago
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My brain is absolutely mush so I'm leaving Sky period sex smut here. Pat pat. I'm so sorry you have to deal with my demons.
Don't ever apologize because I LOVE YOUR BRAIN. Your Sky requests are breathing life into me, so don't you dare feel bad <3
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Crimson Comfort
Pairing: Sky x Reader
Warning(s): Period sex :). Reader is assumed female because of menstruation
Masterlist
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You awoke at the crack of dawn, when the sky was but a mere sliver in the darkened horizon. A beam of tangerine light shone through the small crack in the shades, nearly blinding you as you groaned and attempted to reshuffle into a position that wouldn't sacrifice your poor eyes to the sun's fiery wrath, which was proving slightly difficult with the heavy arm sling over your midsection.
Sky, per usual, was dead asleep, his back pushed so far against the wall that you were sure he would have tumbled to the floor had it not been there. You froze when he snorted in his slumber, face wrinkling so slightly that you almost missed it. The arm around your stomach tightened minutely, fingers digging into the flesh of your side.
You waited.
Sky let out another snort, expression relaxing.
You allowed yourself a huff of relief, carefully readjusting to face him, successfully warding off the sun for another few hours. Mission accomplished.
There was a rustle.
"...Morning," Sky's voice filtered through the calm, heavy with sleep. His eyes remained closed, but you knew it didn't make him any less alert.
Fuck, you swore internally, which was an appropriate thought considering the events that had occurred just last night and the fact that he'd managed to catch you off guard yet again. Instead of vocalizing your thoughts on the matter, you flushed a dark color and mumbled, "Go to sleep, the sun's not even up."
"Hm..." he hummed. Eyes the color of the stormy sea blinked open, pupils contracting slightly as he registered the golden light washing in from the window. He gazed at you through a thick, unbrushed mess of golden curls. A thin embroidered shirt separated your flesh when he pulled you closer, head rising to nose at your hair, breath huffing at the strands. "I can't," he decided after a moment. "Not when you're awake."
You leaned in, the tip of your nose brushing the bobbing apple of his throat. "We'll be useless in the morning," the joke slipped from your lips, bouncing off his tanned skin and flailing in the atmosphere above.
"I don't mind," he huffed back. Your heart stuttered. "It's fine."
Just to maintain the bit, you snorted softly. "It's not."
Silence.
"What are you doing?" You asked when he pushed the blankets down, his hand gently cupping the back of your right thigh and hiking it over his hip, something warm and hard slotting against your core. You hadn't bothered putting on shorts after last night, leaving you in only one of his tunics and a flimsy pair of underwear.
"Is this okay?" The man in question mumbled against the top of your head, thumb stroking careful circles over your flesh. He was always so gentle with you, even though you had done this thousands of times. He always asked, and you loved him for it.
You paused–as if there was a reason to consider such an obvious answer–and nodded, kissing along the bobbing column of his throat. "Touch me," you said, and you couldn't have meant it more.
He obliged with a sharp inhale through his nose, the hand on your hip sliding to the hem of your tunic, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to trace firebrand lines up your side, eventually reaching the slopes of your breasts. You whined against flesh when he took one of your boobs in hand, thumb flicking lightly over the already pebbled nipple. You already felt so sensitive and he had barely started, which wasn't that thought provoking in your hazy state, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Did you have something to do today? Something important? Whatever it was, it would have to wait, because there was no way you were letting the world tear him away now.
Sky's other hand came up, pushing lightly at your chin to coax you into gazing up at him. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the query, scooting up slightly to slot your lips together. It was warm and oh-so-perfect, leaving you both breathless and aching for more. There was a tugging feeling in your belly, and you felt wetter than the ocean, hands clinging to his strong shoulders for any semblance of stability.
"Link," you breathed when the kiss ended and you were forced to resurface for air. Your chest heaved as the sheets crinkled around you, mussed from sleep and the numerous activities that had occurred before.
The hero palmed your breast with a bit more purpose, face flushing slightly when his name fell from your lips. "It's okay," he whispered in a tone that perfectly matched yours, eyes burning loving holes into your flesh. "I've got you."
You felt yourself shiver at his words, tilting up to steal another sweet kiss. The movement of your lips was unhurried as he continued to knead you, moving to your other, neglected breast after a few moments. This time, he tweaked your nipple, and the sharp sensation had you yelping into his mouth. Fuck, that actually hurt a bit.
As if sensing your pain, Sky stopped all movement, breaking the kiss as his brows knitted together in worry. His hand withdrew from your tunic, resting on the curve of your hip, still slung over his own. "Are you okay?"
You blinked a bit, confused yourself. Sure, you were usually more sensitive in the mornings, but this was new, as was the ache in your abdomen-
You froze when something warm and wet leaked from you, in a far larger quantity to be arousal. There was a stab of pain in your stomach and the realization hit like a dive-bombing loftwing. "Shit," you hissed, scooting off of him to confirm your fears. Sky tried to follow, only to freeze in turn when he noticed the crimson blood staining his thigh, right where your core had been.
"Oh no," Sky's voice filtered as he came to the conclusion of what had just occurred. With startling grace, he all but leapt from the bed, jogging to the bathroom and returning with several thick towels in hand. His lips formed a thin, worried line as he moved to the foot of the bed, pulled the covers all the way down, and climbed back to your side. "I'm so sorry," he all but whispered, using a hand to encourage your hips to lift so he could slide a folded towel beneath them.
"Don't," you huffed slightly, sitting up and ignoring the fresh bout of cramping in your belly. It wasn't the worse you'd had, but it definitely wasn't the lightest, either. "It's not your fault."
"I know," he said in a tone that told you he didn't. "...Does it hurt?"
"No more than usual," you shrugged, determined to keep the worst of it to yourself. You had survived alone for many years, so what made a few days any different? You did, however, have no shame in asking him to fetch you things. "Could you bring me a glass of water? And some of those herbs from the potion shop?"
Sky nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back," he said, though the look in his eyes was reluctant. Still, he was up in a flash, padding to the kitchen to fulfill your request. While you waited, you busied yourself with dragging the soiled sheets from the blissfully clean mattress, making sure to keep the towel beneath you to prevent more accidents.
Once the offended sheets had been properly grimaced at and balled into a corner of the room, you sat back down on the bare mattress, grimacing at your predicament. You were usually good about keeping track of your cycle to prevent the headache of extra laundry, but a few mishaps were bound to happen, though you were glad this particular one had occurred in the privacy of your own home, even if it did interrupt what was to be a wonderful morning with your boyfriend.
The door opened, and you were grateful for Sky's quick return. He walked to your side, bearing a cup of water and a small pouch of herbs that you swore up and down on. He plopped beside you, offering the cup with a slightly strained smile.
"Thank you," you sipped the water, then took the herbs and poured a small amount into the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste coating your tongue. You drank until the cup was empty, gagging minutely at the less-than-ideal flavor.
Sky watched with a sort of nervous anticipation when you placed the cup on the nightstand, one of his hands moving to rub the small of your back. "Is it helping?" He asked, followed by a more confident: "Do you need anything else?"
"I'm fine," you shook your head and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek with a half-smile. "I don't suppose you're still open to cuddles?"
The hero's expression instantly softened and he wrapped his arms just under your chest, coaxing you to lie back on the bed. You went willingly, one hand reaching down to make sure the towel stayed beneath you at all times. A sharp rush of blood left you, but the pain in your abdomen was fading as the herbs took effect, leaving you relaxed and, dare you say, boneless against the broad expanse of his chest. Your head fell back against the pillows, eyes closed and breathing coming in small, content puffs. "I'm always open," he mumbled into your hair, nuzzling the soft skin of your neck. "I love you."
You tilted your head to press a kiss to his forehead, already falling into the warm embrace of sleep. "I love you, too, Link."
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You awoke to a horrid cramping in your abdomen.
Groaning, you willed yourself to move, to do something other than lie in pain, but it was futile when the feeling only doubled, coupled with an unpleasant flood of... fluids from you. You felt gross and sticky, and the urge to curl up and hide was a strong one.
Sky was already awake, expression concerned as he watched your movements. The fact that he hadn't succumbed to sleep surprised you, but it was quickly overpowered when another cramp crashed over you. Deft fingers, calloused from years of training, stroked your side, occasionally dipping beneath the hem of your tunic. He did nothing, though, only asking, "How are you feeling?"
You gave a noncommittal, pained huff, resisting the urge to roll off the side of the bed and let the fall take you.
"That bad, huh?" Sky's smile was deeply sympathetic as his fingers pressed under your tunic once more, applying gentle pressure to your belly in the form of small, soothing circles. It wasn't the biggest help--without heat, at least--but you allowed him to continue, gazing up with bleary eyes.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Just over two hours," he answered quickly, and you chuckled tiredly at the embarrassed flush licking at his cheeks. It was cute how he thought that would make you uncomfortable.
"Thanks," you mumbled, eyes falling closed once more. His hand felt warm against the cool flesh of your stomach, and you trusted him to know what you needed in a situation like this. "...Do we have any more of those heat packs from the academy?"
By heat packs, you meant the emergency warmers the knights were required to carry when times grew tough, which you would have never asked for had the academy not sent him home to you with several hundred of them one random afternoon. You were still trying to figure that one out, honestly, but the flash of elated recognition in his eyes was everything. "I'll get you one!"
With that, he was gone, presumably to rummage in the closet the packs were kept in, while you were left to mourn the temporary loss of warmth. You instantly relaxed when familiar footsteps padded in, followed by a sharp snap as the pack in Sky's hand activated. He was smiling as he pushed it beneath your tunic, right where his hand had been. The warmth that bloomed over your skin was heavenly, and you could have cried when he rejoined you on the bed, chest practically molded to your side, continuing to rub those sweet, gentle circles atop the pack. "Is that better?"
"Much," you all but groaned, too blissed out to offer any true eloquence in your words. "You're the best."
"Anything for you," he murmured, nuzzling your hair as he continued his ministrations. You felt safe in his embrace, like a warm blanket after a cold day.
The only thing that broke you from your reverie was another rush of blood from between your legs, which were still bare as you had elected to free bleed on the towel until your stomach decided to stop stabbing itself. You shifted your hips, feeling a bit too wet for comfort, and Sky was instantly alert, assessing the situation with a diligence usually observed when he had a sword in one hand. "It's okay, I'll get you another one," he soothed, sitting up to pick another towel from the good-sized stack on the bedside table, sliding the old towel out and the new one under your hips.
It was purely by chance that the pad of his thumb accidentally brushed over your sore core, though the borderline moan the action elicited certainly wasn't.
You slapped a hand over your mouth, but the damage had already been done. Sky paused, brows raising as he processed your reaction. You could tell by the way his face flushed crimson that he wanted to try it again, but held back for your sake.
You didn't want him to.
The way your thighs closed on his hand was almost instinctual. You had done it many times before, but never for this reason. Sky's fingers felt warm, though a bit stiff, between your flesh. "It's fine," you whispered once your voice returned, face burning brighter than the hottest hearth. "Please..."
"O-Okay," Sky cleared his throat, obviously still reeling from the suddenness of the situation. His fingers fanned out, coaxing your thighs to part once more, baring everything to his smoldering gaze. It was your first time doing this, so you expected a bit of nervousness on both sides, but the flash of hunger in those blues of his only solidified your desire. "Tell me if I do anything wrong."
"Promise," you managed to squeak before he reached forward, tracing two fingers down the seam of your lips, gathering both blood and arousal. It was enough to send a fresh bolt of warmth zinging through your belly, curling up the length of your spine.
"Link," his name was a breathless prayer on your lips when his thumb found your clit, applying the gentlest pressure to the tender, swollen bud. The sensation was jarring, and you would have been embarrassed by the way your hips jerked had he not shushed you, fingers moving a bit lower to spare you some relief, coating themselves in a mix of fluids that you should have found disgusting, but the only thing on your mind was how hot he was like this.
"It's okay," Sky shifted, using his free hand to coax you to sit up, slotting himself between your back and the headboard. Your head fell back against his shoulder when he pressed the heat pack closer to your skin. "I'll take care of you."
And so he did. He was a man of his word, after all.
You felt helpless as you squirmed and shivered under his ministrations at your slit, spreading your wetness over your thighs and coaxing you back to intimacy, making sure to avoid your sensitive clit until he knew you could handle it.
A single finger teased your entrance, dipping in with a patience that could have rivaled the goddesses, testing your slick walls for any sign of pain or discomfort. "Does it hurt?" his question came as a breathy whisper against the trembling skin of your craned neck.
"N-No," you murmured, hips canting forward in an attempt to coax him to continue. Every nerve in your body cried for relief, and who were you to deny yourself? His finger pressed all the way in, and your hips squirmed. You needed more.
Your breath hitched when the pad of his thumb brushed the underside of your clit, testing your reaction with careful precision. This time, it wasn't quite as sensitive, and you took the action with a soft whine, head falling back further against his shoulder.
"There you go," the hero encouraged, rewarding you with an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, right where your pulse beat the strongest. He pumped his finger slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust before a second one began to circle your entrance, only dipping in when your hips rocked up, trying to draw him in. "Shh, I'll give it to you."
A low moan was your response when he pushed the second finger in, carefully crooking them against your gummy walls. The cramps in your belly had faded to a dull ache, leaving behind a far different type of throbbing in your abdomen. One of your hands fisted in the mattress while the other gripped his forearm, encouraging his movements with gentle, desperate squeezes to corded muscle. Sky was kind enough not to comment, busying himself with kissing a path down the length of your neck as his fingers crooked, searching for the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars.
"Ah!" The yelp tore through your throat faster than you could stop it. Your hips lifted slightly, only held down by the hand splayed on your abdomen. "FUck– right there–!"
"Here?" Sky's chuckle vibrated through your entire being as he complied, applying more pressure to the spot within you, occasionally scissoring his fingers to stretch you open. Your nails dug into his forearm, sinking into flesh and you struggled to regain even a shred of composure against the onslaught of pleasure, but it was for naught when his thumb reacquainted itself with your clit, padding slow, easy circles over the stiff nub. "It's okay, you can let go. I've got you."
As if on cue, the coil that had been brewing in your belly snapped, so suddenly that you didn't have time to censor the noises rolling from your parted mouth like the crashing waves of the ocean. It was too much and not enough, you thought as your body seized impressively, walls clamping down on his fingers and neck practically dislocating from how hard you threw your head back. Sky helped you ride out your orgasm as best he could, pace never once faltering as you gushed around him, squirming and whimpering.
By the time you finally came down from your high, you were panting like the air had been punched from your lungs. A small, satisfied grin crossed Sky's face as he withdrew his fingers, absolutely coated in crimson slick to where they met the meat of his hand. "How do you feel?" His voice filtered through the fog, and you took a steadying breath.
"Like I could die happy," was your tired reply. He hummed in acknowledgment, though you hardly registered the noise when he brought his hand to his mouth, gaze flicking intently over his fingers. There was something deeply contemplative in his eyes, and you flushed when pink lips parted, his tongue darting out to flick across his pointer finger, gathering the barest hints of wetness. "Oh–"
"It's not bad," he mused in a way that made you turn as red as the offending digits. Storm-blue eyes flicked to meet your own, dancing with equal measures of ravenous mirth and tender hunger. "I'm not a fan of blood, but I think I could get behind this."
"Please stop talking," you squeaked, a millisecond away from covering your face in your hands. Watching him lick his bloodied fingers wasn't something you ever thought you would enjoy the sight of, but the deeply depraved part of you cheered at the image, while the other, more reasonable part prayed for the salvation of your souls. "It's gross."
"Maybe," he grinned, and you wondered how someone so sweet could be so resonatingly smug. His tongue darted out again, lucking a much bolder stripe up his bloodied palm in a manner scarily similar to the way he acted between your thighs. "But you're not gross."
"And you're weird," you muttered under your breath, though you couldn't deny that his actions had definitely helped. "Thank you, though. I feel a lot better."
"Good," Sky's head dipped down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, shifting slightly to make sure the towel was still nestled beneath your hips, and it was then that you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, against the curve of your ass. He was hard. Maybe even painfully so, considering the spectacle he had just watched. That wouldn't do, not after everything he had done for you.
You shifted to sit up a bit straighter, gently nudging the cooled heat pack off of your flesh. Sky's brow furrowed in confusion when you turned to him, gaze questioning. "Is something wrong?"
You nodded to his very obvious hard-on–there was even a wet spot in his pants, for crying out loud–smiling slightly when his gaze snapped down, as if seeing it for the first time. His blush darkened. "Do you need help with that?"
"No," he answered quickly, then amended when you studied him: "I mean– not right now. I can wait."
"Are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head as you pivoted to face him, keeping your butt firmly planted on the towel. There was a mild cramp in your belly at the movement, but you knew it would fade as soon as he got his hands on you again. "I don't mind."
"It's fine," Sky continued, somehow managing to look simultaneously guilty and horny out of his mind. "Your health is more important than my pleasure."
True, but you also felt like your 'health' was about to take a nosedive if you didn't get him inside you in the next five minutes. Not that you would ever push him, but the ache was there, waiting to be satisfied. Still, you nodded, determined to respect his wishes as much as he did yours. "Okay," you murmured, leaning forward to plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "Want to cuddle until Zelda comes to the front door to find out if we've died or not?"
Sky's grin grew tenfold, and he kissed both of your cheeks in gentle succession, hands cupping your cheeks like the finest china. "I'd love nothing more."
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I kind of want to write a part two for Legend's period fic now 👀
Also please forgive me for the title, I can't name things for the life of me.
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moons-of-dewclan · 14 days ago
Note
Hellooooo! I’m working on a clangen blog of my own, so I’m going around asking my favorite clangen blogs some questions. I’m happy to get answers to whichever you feel like answering (or none at all if you don’t feel like it!)
What program and file size do you use?
If you use a font, what font is it?
How far ahead do you recommend playing?
Do you have any advice for layouts?
Do you have any tips for lighting/drawing fur?
Do you have any tips for making cats look more unique?
If you do backgrounds, do you have any advice for creating them?
If you use them, where do you recommend finding reference images?
NYELLO! 1. I use Procreate on Ipad! File size is pretty small because i feel more easygoing working small. it forces me not to worry too much about details. Dewclan comic pages come in 1200px wide and.. however tall the page calls for. 1200 DOESN'T SEEM SUPER TINY BUT!! when you think about adding in the speech bubbles and doing usually two panels per 'row', make space for the panels themselves, etc, you end up with only like.. 350/400px to work with. s'LIL 2. FONT is copperplate! 3. this entirely depends on you. if you wanna be able to plan ahead to connect some events, you gotta go a few moons ahead to know what to connect. but sometimes going moon by moon really keeps up your muse and excitement, because even YOU wonder what's gonna happen next. if you need to stay excited about something to keep up with it like ME, i recommend not going too far ahead. keep it Fresh 4. advice would be.. keep in mind/sketch out the placement for your characters AND their speech bubbles in their panels. i don't do this and it shows ALSDNKLSD. sometimes my speech bubbles are squARSHED, or sometimes i have to adjust the size of the font to make it fit. it's silly. PLAN AHEAD. otherwise i'm not so great at layouts and composition in that i don't have a lot of confidence in it, so i can't give much advice OGH 5. shade fur like you'd shade anything else! don't overthink it. but drawing fur can be done in a billion ways so that's a tough one to answer. in my clangen comic it's very simple, bc there's just the illusion of fur. YOU JUST.. ASSUME THERE IS FUR BC.. cats. but there isn't much definition really. sometimes i throw in a tuft or two bc for fun. outside of clangen, uHHHGH.. my fur rendering is sort of a mess. look at how your favourite artists do it! there's no one single way 6. unique cats.. play with shapes! cute round soft shapes, pointy angular shapes. play with the shapes of their ears, give em tufts or give them no tufts. think about silhouettes if you're not going with realism! if you figure out what makes a cat look like a cat enough, you can warp that anatomy and keep them looking cattish 7. i do backgrounds!! i dabble, i partake, in the backgrounds. BUT UAA advice is hard there too. what kind of bgs do you wanna do? :( I'M SORRY I NEED VERY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS I'ASKDNLK I'M EASILY CONFUSED. general advice is again, look at ones you like! think about what you like about the bgs you see and HAVE AT EM. do studies :3 8. Pinterest is good for references. at least it was last i checked before the big AI boom.. bc it'll recommend you similar things. tho i find the layout pretty disorienting. IF YOU CAN GET USED TO IT, IT'S HELPFUL THO
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writingroom21 · 9 months ago
Text
The Nanny
Pairing: rafe x nanny reader 
Summary: Being Wheezie’s nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?
Warnings: 18+, masturbation, and voyeurism
Wc:3.0K
Chapter 1: Did you enjoy the show?
The sun was beating down on you as you laid out on the beach chair. Wheezie has been begging you all week to go to the beach with her and as per usual she disappeared. A breeze passed by you causing goosebumps to raise across your body. The sound of waves crashing filled your ears as you flipped the page of the book you were reading. “You know I didn’t think my dad pays you to lounge at the beach.” The voice of the one person you do not want to see right now creeps up from behind. You lift the sunglasses as you peak behind you to be greeted with Rafe Cameron. The oldest out of all of the Cameron children and one of the main reasons that even at Wheezie’s age she has a nanny. Your head turns to look at him over the chair you laid on. He’s wearing black swim trunks, your eyes look up at his body and see the chain dangling on his collar before meeting his eyes. Thank god for sunglasses, he would never let you forget checking him out.
“Actually he does. Whatever Wheezie wants she gets, today was the beach.” Your head turns to face the water again, glasses shading your eyes from the sun. The sound of sand shuffling can be heard as Rafe gets closer. His shadow casts a dark film over your body as he looks down at you. “Nice swimsuit, sunny. Really makes your tits pop.” A few snickers come from behind him and with a quick glance behind him you can see Topper and Kelce. “You should wear this around the house more often.” Rafe’s hand goes to caress the strap holding your top up. “Stop it.” You say and swat his hand away from you squirming in the chair to get away from him. 
Through the corner of your eye you can see Wheezie coming back with some of her friends. Standing up you gather all your things, slipping your shorts back on to show off your ass. You might hate the flirting at times but it sure is fun to mess with him. “Come on baby, don't be like that. Why don’t you come hang out with us? I promise you’ll have a good time.” The sound of his voice has this underline of suggestion to it. Narrowing your eyes you stare at him for a second. Rafe has this little grin on his face that royally pisses you off. Who does he think he is? “The next time I want to be left unsatisfied and disappointed I’ll make sure to call you.” The edge in your voice only made his stupid grin grow even more. “Trust me baby.” He steps a little bit closer to you. “I would have you begging me for more when I’m done with you.” He whispered eyes staring at yours behind the sunglasses. 
A scoff leaves your lips as you take a step back. “You’re right. Maybe I” You pause for a second to look at his blue eyes. He’s standing a bit straighter now, you actively have to look up at him. “Maybe after your minute is over I’ll definitely want more. I know how much you love having girls beg you to make them cum.” Which was true. Having to live in the same house as him let alone the same floor has proven that point. “It’s just sad you can’t make them cum the first time.” You shrug your shoulders as his face drops. Topper and Kelce’s laughs ring in your ear, infuriating Rafe as he shoots them a death glare over his shoulder. “Oka-”
“Hey!” Wheezie yells as she gets closer to us. “What are you doing here?” she asks the older Cameron. “Just enjoying the view.” Rafe replies with a shrug. His eyes raking up and down your body landing on your tits once again. “Gross.” You chuckle a little at her reaction. It's good to see that someone else is tired of his constant flirting.
Ever since you got the job a year ago, Rafe was always flirting with you. The small touches and whispers in your ear have been endless. Ward has scolded him so many times that you're surprised even talks to you. It’s not that Rafe isn’t attractive, he is but it's his personality. If that beautiful face hadn’t been so cocky, entitled, or rude you may have already slept with him. Actually you would probably still sleep with him but after hearing girl after girl. As well as dealing with the fall out of each heartbreak, you were all set. You didn’t want to be another notch on his belt and that’s all he sees you as.
“Come on Wheeze. Why don’t we go get some ice cream? I think I saw that cute boy working today.” You send her a wink as your arm wraps around her shoulder. The both of you couldn’t even get a few steps in before Rafe calls out to you. “You aren’t taking my little sister somewhere so you can felt with some fucking guy.” His eyes burn into the back of your head. Stopping and turning your head to look back at him you grin. “The boy isn’t for me, it's for Wheeze. I don’t think my boyfriend would like me flirting with someone else.” The ease in your voice made Rafe clench his jaw. The jealous green monster he hates so much tapping at his shoulder seeing you walk away.
The two of you continue walking, not looking back as he yells out to you. “What boyfriend? Sunny, I'm talking to you, what boyfriend?” Topper and Kelce can be heard trying to get his attention as he keeps calling after you. You keep walking as Wheezie turns to look back at him. The two boys now in front of him holding him back as he tries to follow the both of you. She looks at you for a second and then back to him. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” Her brown eyes shine behind her glasses staring at me. “Since a second ago.” Looking over at her you both laugh, continuing to the ice cream shop that’s down the road. 
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The sunset was painting the sky with hues of orange, reds, and purple. It looked breathtaking as you sat in the kitchen scrolling on your phone. A video of a puppy playing hide and seek with a baby made you laugh. The sound of footsteps filled the room, Rafe’s voice following along. “What are you laughing about?” “oh sorry I was just texting someone.” You giggle, he steps further into the kitchen making his way to you. “Let me guess that little boyfriend of yours.” Bitterness and a hint of jealousy are laced in his sentence. You place your phone down as you twist your body to face him. 
He looks good. The white t-shirt clings to his arms as he leans down onto the island next to you. “What could he have possibly said that was so funny.” There’s that jealousy again. You lean in a little closer to him, eyes flicking to his lips just in time to catch him liking them. You look back to his eyes, noticing him doing the same. “He was telling me about this douchebag that he met at this party. I think you might know him, he’s this little trust fund baby who thinks he rules the world.” A huf escapes his lips and he leans in a little closer. Lips so close to each other that when he moves his lips they lightly brush yours. “He sounds like an asshole.” He straightens up and walks to the fridge.
Opening it up he takes out a water bottle without looking back at you. His arms flexing distracts you for a moment and you’re glad that he can’t see you. Rafe closes the door and your eyes dart to the rest of the room not looking at anything particular. “It’s sad you are dating him. Maybe that trust fund baby can teach you a good time.” He winks at you when he walks by taking a swig from the bottle. “Very funny I don’t think he would be able to handle me. Plus why would I leave someone who can actually get the job done.” You shrug, picking the phone back up to look busy.  You can see Rafe stop in his tracks from the corner of your eye. “Baby I would rock your world to the point that you would forget your own name. That little boy would look like a rookie once I’m done with you.” With that he just walked away leaving you blushing. 
There’s a slight ache between your thighs and you clench trying to relieve it. Before you can make the mistake of following him Rose walked in. “Hi sweetie. Would you be able to do me a favor? Ward and I are going to the Bahamas for a week to finish up some business deal. Who knows what Sarah will be up to while we are gone and god knows what Rafe will be up to. I swear those two will send Ward to an early grave. Anyway, Wheezie is going to a week-long sleepaway camp with some friends. I know it’s not really your job but can you keep an eye on the other two. We really need to get this deal done and I don’t need them ruining something just to have Ward leave.” She barely looks at you or anything for that matter as she parades around the kitchen, staring at her phone the whole time. Her eyes look up at you waiting for the response. “Of course I can. I’m here to help out in any way.” She smiles at you and grabs a wine glass. “Thank you, You’ve honestly been a big help around the house. I haven’t seen Wheezie this happy or Rafe this well behaved. It's like we needed you.” She chuckles and pours the red wine into her glass.
Her statement took you by surprise. You knew that Wheezie was doing a lot better knowing that she has a stable environment. But the statement about Rafe didn’t make sense. Sure he flirts with you all the time and on rare occasions make sure you are okay at a party. But that’s just because he wants to sleep with you and he knows that if anything happened to you Ward would be upset. You’ve seen Ward yell at him countless of times and know how much Rafe wants his fathers approval. It honestly breaks your heart seeing how hard he really tries. “That’s only because he has to be nice to me. But I’m glad I’m a positive influence.” She takes a sip from her glass tilting her head as she looks at you. There’s something behind her eyes that you can’t make out.“You may not see it but he cares about you. He’s different around you.” She goes back onto her phone as she leaves. “But what do I know? You never know what that kid is thinking. Oh do you mind bringing Wheezie her suitcase? It's in the closet in the hallway.” “Yeah.” You call out stuck in place. 
After a moment you snapped out of it and made your way to get the suitcase. Grabbing it you drop it off in her room. “Here you go kiddo.” You barge into her room. “One suitcase for your travels.” She is standing by her dresser going through it and tossing clothes everywhere. “Do you think this is good to bring?” She’s holding up a dress the two of you got a few weeks back when you were at the mall. “Depends, do you plan on spending the week doing camp activities in that dress?” You reply sitting on the edge of her bed looking at her. She walks over, putting the suitcase next to you as she starts to pack. “It’s not for camp. A cute boy in my grade is going and it’s for when he asks me out.” You laugh, swiping the dress from her hands before she can pack it. “Very funny young lady. When you are at camp you will be doing camp activities, not boys.” You fold the dress putting it back into her drawer before closing it. 
“Uhh.” She cries out, flopping onto the bed. “You’re no fun. It’s fine he wouldn’t have asked me out anyway.” Glancing at her you can see her in deep thought. “He would be stupid if he didn’t. You are so beautiful and amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You crouch next to her on the floor and she turns her head to the side to see you. “Thank you.” Your right arm reaches up and pushes her hair out of her face. “Just telling the truth… Now finish packing, we don't need a repeat of Cabo.”  You both giggle and you leave her alone.
Making your way down the stairs to your room the sound of a door catches your attention. It closes softly, barely loud enough to hear it. You stop midway on the staircase just in time to see Rafe make his way from your room across the hall to his.  
What was he doing in your room? Rushing down the rest of the stairs you burst into your room. Nothing looks out of place, everything is exactly where you have left it. The bed was still made, your desk perfectly intact, your nightstand has the book you left there last night. If everything was still there what was he doing? Looking around once again you can’t find anything. Your legs start to move before you can think about where you are going. Even though deep down you know exactly where. 
Not even thinking you open Rafes door but stop as soon as you see him. He’s laying on his bed, the shirt he was wearing earlier pulled up to his chest. Your eyes scan down his body and your eyes widen seeing what he is doing. Rafe's right hand is wrapped around his dick stroking it in fast strokes.  “Fuck baby. Just like that, feel fucking amazing.” But what really catches your eyes is the red lace fabric he has pressed up to his nose. He takes a big sniff before bringing the panties down to his dick. You thought Rose's statement shocked you but you are truly frozen now. It’s like every muscle in your body gave up and every neuron in your brain died. No matter how much you wanted to say something or move you couldn’t. The grip you had on the door tightened as you heard him moan.
“Oh god.” His strokes get faster making the veins in his arms pop out more. Another moan leaves his lips. The noise draws your gaze up to his face, which was a mistake because you could ignore the throbbing happening in your shorts. But Rafe’s eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back making his neck look biteable. Yeah looking at the pleasure expression he had right now was a mistake. The little voice in your head telling you to run starts telling you to join him. “Fuck Sunny don’t stop.” Your jaw drops hearing your nickname. The one he gave you a few weeks into working here. 
“Knew you were a slut. Begging me to teach you a lesson.” A sloppy smacking noise reaching your ears. He was thinking about you? You knew he wanted to fuck you but you never thought he would steal you panties just to get off on the thought of you. “Bet your dripping right now. Soaking those little shorts of yours.” This made your eyes shoot up to look at him. Crystal blue eyes meeting yours as his pupils dilate enveloping the sea of blue. He moans as he cums moaning out your name without breaking eye contact. White ropes shooting up and coating his toned stomach. You can feel the blood rush to your face at the thought of being caught watching Rafe masturbate. Well more of the fact that you like watching Rafe himself off. 
“If I knew you were into voyeurism I would have left my door open a long time ago.” He chuckles, running his hand over his buzz cut. “I-I’m sorry. I saw you come out of my room and I.” The words die on your tongue watching as he gets up from the bed, wiping off his cum with my panties. His moans keep playing in your head as you just stare. He makes his way over to you, striping from his shirt leaving him completely bare in front of you. “It’s okay I liked that you watched me. Maybe next time I won’t have to use your panties.” He taunts waving the red lace in your face. 
With your brain not functioning no comebacks came to mind and you didn’t feel his hand wrapping around your waist. “So tell me if I reach into those pretty panties will you be as soaked as I think you’ll be.” The soft fabric brush against your lips finally snapping you out of whatever daze was put over you. You push him off of you and snatch the panties out of his hand. “You fucking wish asshole.” You exclaim practically running out of the room to yours and locking the door.
Your chest rises and falls in fast motions trying to have you catch your breath. What just happened? The events keep playing in your mind as you throw the solid garment into the hamper and go to wash your hands in the ensuite bathroom. Scrubbing furiously you get the remnants of his cum off of your hands. You lean against it with your head hanging between your shoulders. It wasn’t until you licked your lips and tasted salt you remembered the moment. He had wiped the painties on your lips before you had stormed off. You still had his cum left on your lips.
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justthreadyall · 3 months ago
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baby bill⁉️🔥⚠️
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backed it with double sided tape as per usual. i messed up a bit and didn’t realize that my stitches weren’t differential enough to distinct his hands and bricks, so i literally just took a pencil and shaded the lines a bit LMAO. no one’s perfect ig lol
i plan on putting up a few pieces for sale on etsy soon, so i would back all of those with felt as well for a cleaner finish. keep an eye out for that :]
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dfortrafalgar · 9 months ago
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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)
Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.
Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings
Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men
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Interlude
[Prev] [Next]
Law hated change.
Even the slightest shift in his day-to-day routine had him crawling into his protective shell of a mind, keeping him away from any potential harm.  If the weather app on his phone predicted wind gusts of 19 miles per hour, and they ended up being 20, that was enough to ruin his day.
Needless to say, he was not enthused by the new addition to the study group he had formed with Shachi, Penguin, and Penguin’s girlfriend Ikkaku.  He had arrived at the usual study room about 15 minutes before his friends did, as was his usual routine.  He enjoyed the fleeting time spent alone to organize his classwork as well as his racing thoughts.  He couldn’t do that with a new pair of eyes staring at him, also having arrived early.  At first, he thought that you were using the study room by yourself for a different reason, unaware that it was rented out for the next hour and a half.
“Who are you?” he asked, dry and monotone.  The average person would have probably taken great offense to his offputting and sour demeanor.
With skeptical confusion, you stated your name.  “I’m Ikkaku’s roommate, I take the same class as you guys, just a different section,” you explained.  
Law’s jaw clenched.  So much for his assumption that you had no affiliation with any of his personal connections.  “Who invited you?”
You cocked one of your eyebrows.  “Ikkaku.”
Figures.  “Why?”
“... Because I’m taking the same class and wanted to join a study group?” you offered, seriously growing skeptical.  “Do you have a problem with that?  Do you want me to fork over a down payment for your time or something?”
Law’s eyes narrowed at your attitude.  “I don’t appreciate the lip.”
“And I don’t appreciate your exclusion from a study group,” you stated back, matching his energy.  “If you really don’t want me here, then I’ll leave.  But I really don’t see what the problem is.”
Law wanted to tell you to leave.  He wanted to tell you to never come back to this study room during his specifically designated hours, effectively closing his life off from you for good.  He had no room for new relationships.  He had his two friends from childhood, and that was all he needed.  He was even reluctant to bring in Penguin’s girlfriend, but the desperate man pestered until Law couldn’t stand his moping anymore.  Just as the black-haired man was about to open his mouth and bark at you to get out of his room, a firm hand smacked the back of his shoulder.
“Hey, Law!  I’m a bit early, so I grabbed some snacks from the cafeteria.  You know, some brain food.”  Shachi pushed past him, slapping a granola bar into his chest.  “Oh, hey!  You decided to join us!”
Clearly, you were already familiar with Shachi, much to Law’s chagrin.  You nodded excitedly as the redhead took off his pointed shades and plopped his small backpack down next to your seat, rummaging through his mess of disorganized papers and taking out his class materials for their study session.
“I’m excited to finally have a group to study with, I’ve been struggling in this class,” you added, smiling brightly at the man next to you.  You tossed a sour side eye towards Law who still stood frozen in the doorway.  “I hope I won’t be too much of an issue for you guys.”
Now you were playing dirty.
His thoughts were once again interrupted, though, as Penguin pushed his way through the heavy private room’s door with Ikkaku in tow, who quickly plopped herself next to you, pulling out her phone and talking about a meme she saw earlier that she couldn’t wait to show you.
Law was officially trapped in this predicament.  There was nothing he could do but sit down at the end of the table and deal with the cards he had been dealt.
About a week had passed since you joined Law’s thrice-a-week study group, and for the most part, you had kept to yourself.  It seemed you were either genuinely anxious over Law’s distasteful attitude towards you, or you just couldn’t care enough to give him the time of day.  Whatever it was, the human health sciences and biology undergrad was more than pleased to not have to speak to you.
Until you sat across from him at his small, solitary table in the corner of the south campus dining hall.
“Before you say anything,” you began, shrugging off the angry glare he shot your way.  Law was a bit taken aback by how… anxious you looked.  “There’s a guy that’s been following me around all day.  I’m starting to get kind of scared and you’re the only person here right now that I’m vaguely familiar with.”
Law felt his eyebrows crease.  “Following you?”
You anxiously unpacked your small lunch box, removing a tupperware full of what appeared to be some form of leftovers.  “He asked me out a few days ago and I rejected him… and he hasn’t stopped lowkey stalking me since.  Yesterday, he tried to get into my dorm building.”
The black-haired student’s golden eyes darted around the open dining hall, searching for anyone who appeared even slightly suspicious.  “Do you know where he is right now?”
“In the lunch line, I think.”
It was then that Law spotted a gangly-looking student, a few inches shorter than himself and fairly unkempt, step out of the lunch line with a metal tray sporting a single dry apple and freezer wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The kid tossed a few analytical glaces around the dining hall before his eyes landed on Law’s, followed by the back of your head.
“Found him,” Law muttered.
Your shoulders visibly stiffened.  Something in his chest clenched.
The imposing student began clearing the dining hall with long, desperate strides, his eyes growing angrier the closer he got to you.  He slammed his tray down on the table, rattling your’s and Law’s lunches.  The motion made you flinch and you instinctively moved further against the wall.
“Why are you running away from me?” the stranger growled.
You kept your mouth shut, awkwardly pushing your leftovers around your tupperware with your fork.
The biology student cleared his throat.  “Can I help you?”
“This is none of your business, prick,” the kid spat, grabbing an empty chair from nearby and swinging it over so he could be seated directly next to you.  “Did you block my phone number?  All I wanted to do was talk.”
Law didn’t know what came over him.  He didn’t like you, and frankly, he wanted nothing to do with your business.  But the sight of your harasser’s distasteful language and threatening posture towards you as you appeared to be shrinking into your clothes made something snap in Law’s head.  With one smooth motion, he yanked the metal lunch tray off of the table, sending it to the ground with a large clattering noise that made you jump in surprise, alerting students at nearby tables and turning all the attention toward him.  A few nearby conversations halted, surprised by the sudden clamor.
“I’d appreciate it if you could leave my girlfriend alone,” he spat.  He had officially lost control of his life.
The kid finally turned his attention away from you.  “What?”
“You heard me.”
You anxiously darted your eyes up toward Law, frazzled by the suddenness of his statement.  He shot you a look that made you keep your lips sealed.
“You didn’t tell me you were dating someone,” the kid suddenly turned back toward you.
“It’s none of your business,” you shot back, finally recovering from your frightened demeanor and pushing yourself further into the wall, backing away from the kid.  You had an inkling of what Law was trying to convey with his words.  Portray you as taken to get the man threatening you to finally back off, and give you a sense of comfort and protection that you didn’t actually have.  The thought made your heart swell.
Law finally stood from his seat, towering over your harasser.  “Leave.  Us.  Alone.”
The kid stood up as well, attempting to square off with the taller boy, but Law’s threatening glare and the shadow cast over his eyes by his shaggy black bangs did numbers for the stranger’s withering self confidence.  With a huff, he bent down, snatched his tray and food from the ground, and stalked off.  Conversations at nearby tables finally resumed, students pleased to be able to go about the rest of their lunches without any sort of commotion.  When Law sat back down, he found himself surprised at how pleased he was when your shoulders slumped with relief.
“I’m so sorry to have dragged you into that…” you muttered, closing your tupperware.  You had officially lost any and all appetite.  “I don’t normally get scared when I’m followed, but…”
Law shrugged, filling in the silence of your words trailing off.  “It’s fine.”  He didn’t miss the way your gaze anxiously turned to look behind you, watching as the kid dumped his uneaten food in the trash and sulked out of the building into the mid-autumn chill.  “You can stay here if you want.”  His voice left his lips before his brain could fight back against his words.
You stared at him, wide-eyed.  “Are you… sure?”  To say you weren’t expecting his suddenly cordial behavior was an understatement.  Just a week ago he was treating you like the dirt under his shoe, ruining his day with the inconvenience of your presence.  “You’re not having a brain aneurysm or something, right?  Or some tumor?”
The black-haired man snorted.  “Not that I know of.”
With a swelling in your chest, you dug through your lunch box and pulled out a smaller snack, something to at least tide you over until your appetite hopefully returned.  The two of you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as Law picked through his meal, flipping through a small textbook.  He was eating some kind of orzo dish, taking small bites out of a metal spoon.  It was then you finally zoned in on the tattoos on his hands.  The backs of his hands had an interesting four-pronged cross design, and the ends of each finger spelled out the words ‘DEATH.’  You had seen him in a t-shirt at the last study group meeting, where you learned he also had matching tattoos on each forearm.  The low-hanging collar of his cotton shirt had also revealed hints of a chest piece.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” you spoke up, keeping your voice fairly quiet.
Law tore his eyes away from his textbook.  “Yeah?”
“Shachi told me you want to be a medical student, right?” you asked, keeping your eyes trained on his lanky fingers rather than his face.
“What about it?” he asked, slowly growing impatient.
“Do you think having ‘DEATH’ spelled out on your fingers will make it harder for you to become a doctor?”
Law paused.  He had only had that fleeting thought once or twice since getting his hands inked when he was 18.  Shachi and Penguin had begged him to reconsider, stating adamantly that they wouldn’t trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ quite literally on his hands, but he had gone through with it anyway.  “I sure hope not,” was all he replied with.
His words made a small smile break out onto your lips.  “I think I’d trust a doctor who had ‘DEATH’ written on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he killed me.”
Something in Law’s mind flipped at that moment.  The way that small grin tugged on your lips followed by your cheeky words made his chest flutter in a way he had never experienced before.  He stared at you as you turned your attention back to your snack, pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, idly swiping through it while you ate.  He turned his attention back to his textbook, trying once more to focus on his studies.  His eyes darted from the words on the page to the letters inked into his fingers.
He suddenly wanted to see that smile much more often.
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maythedreadwolftakeyou · 5 months ago
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Hiii, do you have any tips for drafting out embroidery patterns? I've got one in mind, but drafting it out and color picking is so nerve-wracking!!
[Hi!!!! this got kinda really long so I'm gonna crop it under a read more. And I honestly don't have any real training/instruction in fiber arts so this is just how I do things, and probably others do them very differently!]
Haha so my fandom embroideries are VERY different from my non-fandom personal pieces in this respect. For non-fandom things i just kind of throw myself in like WAHOO FREEFORM LETS GO and go for a kind of messy colorful approach that ends up as things like this:
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Versus my fandom stuff is way more structured and designed to fill space, be very precise, etc. So for those I do go in with a digital mock up of the design I make in photoshop, that I then color in, and then as my last step translate to thread colors.
For my Dragon Age series. this has been because I'm specifically trying to mimic the stained-glass style of art you see in parts of the game like the dialogue wheels, some icons, windows, etc. The icons in particular were really easy to copy into embroidery because they already come in handy circles:
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This is mostly because I have desperately wanted to pick up stained glass work as a hobby for like 6 years now. As in once every 3-6 months I put everything I'd need to start doing it into an online shopping cart and look at the price total and then sadly close the window because I just don't actually have any space I could do it in (I live in a 2bed apartment so i have no garage or yard or anywhere it wouldn't make everything else a mess or be a hazard). The day after one of those events I impulse bought and completed a floral embroidery kit from the craft store and kinda was like... ok, well, I did this once how hard can it be to use this medium to mimic the hobby I wish I could be doing? Plus, it's only like 60 cents per color! I can afford that! So I took the first design I wanted to do, the romance icon, and basically redrew it sloppily in photoshop, then freehand-copied the design onto fabric and stitched it the next day:
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I learned a lot from this piece and changed my approach a little. Here you can see I tried shading in the parallel direction to my thread, which looked messy and added texture, so now I shade horizontally to my thread direction instead.
But it gave me a basic approach for turning the Tarot cards or DA Keep tiles (or any other art!) into embroidery patterns, which I couldn't copy as directly into this really smooth stained-glass style. There's a basic process I follow when doing these conversions that generally follows the same order, which I'll go through below.
STEP 1: SHAPES
The first thing I do is pick the shape of my display frame which is usually a circle, but could be an oval or rectangle too, since I hang the finished pieces on my wall to have nice way to show them off. I like to fill the whole space so knowing the size and shape of what I want the finished project to look like is a good goal for me. Since I am doing fandom pieces I want to be recognizable, I do stick pretty close to the "original" character design/art, but you can absolutely change as much as you want and freehand draw your own interpretation instead. If you're doing original art just substitute the below composition notes with "sketch out roughly what you want it to look like". I personally do my pattern drafting digitally as I find it easier, but you can do this part by hand too.
First, I keep the reference image I'm working off of open next to me while I work, and draw in the shape of my frame (here, a circle). If I'm adding in the little border to be fancy, I add a second inner circle. I keep these as their own top layer so I always know I'm working within the final "frame" and don't spend time designing any section that will fall outside it. Then I will take copies of the reference image and knock the layers down to 25-50% opacity, and start moving them around underneath the 'frame' layer until I like the way their positioning looks as a composition. Sometimes elements of a card I want to include don't all fit in, so I'll chop the section out and add an additional layer to throw in (like the background circle things in the Hermit design below). Or I'll just freehand things like adding much bigger diamonds behind Solas in my Hierophant design because I did NOT want to do 1000 tiny ones. Then once I'm satisfied with the general composition, I'll use the plain ol circular brush tool to trace out the major shapes of each element. I try to keep in mind that I can't go too small, and curvy lines are more difficult to fill in than straight ones. I usually do a rough messy version first, make it mostly transparent, and then a cleaner and more precise one over that.
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(you can see parts of the rough one on the left and the fully 'cleaned up' on the right for the Hierophant design)
Now: depending on what you are doing next with the pattern, this might be where you stop and start coloring. If you are planning to freehand your design or just trace it onto fabric (or even print it onto fabric here), there's no need to do more than this kind of lineart! However, if you are working digitally and want to create a scalable vector so you can print it at different sizes, you can use the pen tool in photoshop to trace your design and make a "work path" of the lineart. However, another note: THIS PART IS VERY FRUSTRATING AND TEDIOUS BECAUSE THE PEN TOOL WAS CREATED BY THE DEVIL TO TORMENT US. It is so so so easy to accidentally delete a line or even the whole path and not notice later on. Ask me how I know 😭 Anyway I'm not going to include a pen tool tutorial because I don't even know how to use it well and have to google or watch videos every other time I try to use it. But if you can muddle through it gets you some really clean lines that eventually look like this:
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With the work path selected, you can select the brush tool/size/color and use the "stroke path" option to create lineart of the vector. Then you can save this as a transparent png file for use at different sizes and for printing and it looks so nice and clean! one of the big benefits to this is that you get really fine lines that are easier to be precise with stitching on. This is extra perfect if you are printing the design directly onto your fabric (which you can do with an at-home inkjet printer for designs under 8inches wide, as long as you stick a piece of stabilizer on the back of your fabric and cut it down to printer sheet size--this is what I do and can make another post about that process if people want haha), or if you are printing onto transfer paper like you can buy at craft stores.
This is where I end the lineart for my designs. After I have this, I move on to the next phase, which is...
STEP 2: COLOR
For interpreting my designs into thread, I start by thinking of it as flat colors first. You can't "shade" as easily with threads as you can with things like paint or brushes in digital art (though you can A Little, which I will get into), so to start color planning I pick the "main" color each section will be in the piece.
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For the existing icons this was simple--I kept the same sections as the original designs, so for each I just color picked or eyeballed the color in photoshop and colored it in (but you could do this on paper with pencils, markers, whatever as well--they don't need to match your threads exactly and usually won't, it's just to give you an easy reference to follow as you go). For the tarot cards which were more complicated in coloration, I just did my best and went with what looked good next to each other, even if it was a little off the original art. It will be off more later anyway when you have to pick threads so don't stress it too much honestly. I will often make layers with different color options and turn them on/off for direct comparison to try to determine what I think looks best as well, like below where I was debating between more blue/desaturated for the background or brighter colors.
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I do wanna note I have regrets about the color selection, shapes, or shading in EVERY SINGLE ONE of my finished pieces. But no one else ever comments or probably even notices! One aspect of this hobby is just learning to be satisfied with what you've made and using what you learned to get closer to your preferences next time. I'm only going back and redoing some of my designs' colors because I want to make it easier for others to choose on the patterns I sell, more than I care for just for myself. Also since I'm doing this lineart/stained glass looking approach where I go over the distinct shapes with black thread at the end, it means I get these clear delineations between sections you might not necessarily have in your own pieces, and that's ok.
Ok right. Now while shading/coloring in detail is hard with thread, you CAN make whats essentially dithered gradients. "Dithering" in the concept of art means using 2 (or more) colors to give the impression of a third color, or to gently scale between the existing binary rather than a hard line. Think of it like blocky pixel art or gameboy game images. If you're doing needlepainting, you use really small stitches close together to get this effect, which translates to "smaller pixes"--if you look at the jellyfish in my first photos that's a very messy casual version of that. If you want a better example, I recommend looking at @ammocharis 's pieces like these in her pinned post, which are truly amazing! I simply do not have the patience myself 😂 For my stained glass style, I work only in very long straight stitches, so I can only shade in one direction and have to be a little more precise with it.
So for shading, I think about in each section which direction my threads might go. Then perpendicular to that direction I pick which side will be the light one and which the darker one. Sometimes I color this in on my pattern mockup, but sometimes I don't! Or I'll only do it for certain sections to make sure I don't forget. Like for my Tower design I only colored it as flats, and waited until I selected threads to decide how the shading would go. I am currently working on a smaller, simplified version of my Hierophant design and I did add shading digitally for that one just for fun. But it's not as important as having the flat color version you can use to quick-reference how you want your design to go while you're stitching. You might also notice I don't actually color my gold--I just throw in a stock image of gold foil for that layer so I can't confuse it with any of my yellow thread sections.
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Here's a close up where you can kind of see what I mean by the "dithered" effect between colors--some are more obvious (like the red on the far left or middle orange) and others pretty subtle (dark grey to dark red on the wolf face):
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Now, while I use single layers of satin stitches for this, and just alternate thread colors increasing/decreasing as I go, you can accomplish the same thing with short overlapping stitches like with needlepainting, or with clusters of french knots, or whatever else. But in GENERAL you are going to be able to trick people into seeing gradients out of dithering best when you are using the same type of stitch for that whole area. So if I was using multiple stitch types like having french knots, daisy chains, ladder stitching or whatever else for some sections, I would keep those to contrasting areas/colors. A fantastic example of using different layered types of stitching to create more intricate color/texture in an embroidery would be these incredible tarot card depictions by @hattedhedgehog, which I like even better than my own embroideries. Here's his take on the Tower card as well for comparison to mine (I'm so in love with it!!!).
But anyway, at this phase, your design is actually still digital--the above is just to explain how it translates later in the process. The next step is...
STEP 3: THREAD SELECTION
I will admit here I am not great at this part. I am constantly second guessing my thread colors, and can spend over an entire hour in the thread aisle at the craft store agonizing over choices. Really, I think this is just one of those things that takes practice and you get better at it over time. What I have had the best luck with is actually printing out a reference photo of my design/the original artwork and taking it with me. If you already have threads you can do this part at home too, but DMC alone has over 500 colors and I definitely don't even own half that so I like to torture myself by looking at them all together on the thread racks. Plus Anchor and Artiste and whatever other brands there are out there. One approach is to just sit there and pick out what you want for each section and line it all up together on top of your printout. Or in the case of my Tower I laid a bunch of options out on top of my template in the hoop to guess how they'd look in the frame.
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For me since I am also doing this dither shading thing, I also need 2-3 colors per sections depending on its size. Sometimes it's easy and the threads have a color just a little darker or lighter right next to them in the numerical lineup! Other times, there is no good match, or it looks too far away to shade nicely, or I want one to be a warmer or cooler tone than the other... which means a lot of standing and fretting to myself over it. I actually take a lot of photos at this stage because it can be easier to see how they will look in the end from a photo than in person to me? Idk why. Plus then after they get scrambled in my bag I remember wtf order I meant for them to go in later. But as long as you're not preventing other customers from shopping themselves, you can spend as long as you want staring at thread in the embroidery aisle and they won't kick you out unless it's closing time, so take your time.
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Now, IN THEORY, you can sort of combine steps 2 and 3 by color-selecting from your threads and using that to color in the design. However I have tried this and it led to mixed success because the photoshop eyedropper brush simply isn't actually that exact (in my experience, it desaturates compared to what we actually see). And because then you have to have the threads on hand while you're coloring... which means you might buy ones you don't end up using if you don't like them. So I prefer to just use this as a refinement step where I pick threads based on the design colors, then will re-color the design a second time to match those threads more closely to be sure I like the effect.
I've even used this as a tool when I needed to adjust my color choices mid-project, by digitally coloring over over my WIP:
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Or here's a design (but I haven't posted the finished piece yet bc it's a gift so shhh) I made with certain color tones initially, but after buying thread I re-did the color mockup to be more vibrant, because I liked those threads better in the store:
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Once you have your thread, you can make yourself a little reference chart with the colors you intend noted on the sections you want them, like below:
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(note: i didn't end up sticking to these colors because I ended up dying my own thread for several sections. And then forgot I made this entirely and picked new ones because I put the project down for a year between design and stitching. Sigh).
Or for my Solas pattern I did this in a really detailed way, which i am sorry but i have redacted because... i have it for sale now and don't wanna just give that away haha. But if you buy the pattern from my shop this is one of the files you'd get with it, for ease of reference. I do also include a text-only list of them as well.
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Now I don't go to this much trouble for all my designs, just the ones I put up for sale (or plan to). You can also just make a text list of your color plans if you want. Though for fun I also have been using my scrap thread to make these little "color palette" keyrings for my finished pieces, so if I ever remake them or update their patterns I will know what the original colors were, plus I can compare what i used to other threads if I wanna change part of the design up. This step is absolutely not necessary and I'm just doing it because I'm selling the patterns now, but they are kinda fun to look at.
And don't forget.. if you start a section in a certain color and decide you don't like it, you can just cut the threads and pull them out! I did that with my original hierophant piece actually. I had an entirely different color for one row of diamonds i thought just clashed way too much with the others, so I used photoshop to paint over it with some alternate options until I found one I liked better. Then I cut away all the old threads and put in the new color. It can be a little harder to fill a piece the second time since the fabric will have stretched out a little, but as long as you're using a good stabilizer it usually doesn't move too much.
You can also just make test swatches on spare fabric to test before you add them to your real piece. I wish I'd done this for some color transitions that didn't end up looking the way I wanted, but I am simply too lazy most of the time. My exception is usually for metallic, satin, or sparkly threads, because I want to know how they feel while embroidering. But if you're really worried about a certain color or shade it's a good thing to remember you can just do.
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SO yep, that's my general process for drafting patterns. I start with the shapes/design, then do my flat color version, then I pick my threads. Makes it sound easy and short when phrased like that :) But I can honestly spend 8-10 hours just on making the lineart and coloring it in. If I was better at art, probably this would be less, but I'm working with what I've got (not much) 😂 I think all aspects of this are also something that gets easier over time, but it will probably never look as bad as you worry when you start out. I think all my pieces look awkward and rough right up until I do the finishing steps and move them to the display frame sometimes.
I hope this was helpful and answered your questions!! Feel free to post/share your WIPs to ask for feedback or advice ever too :) I've only ever had people in the embroidery community on tumblr be encouraging and helpful to me, and I'm happy to answer any questions myself when I can or if parts of this were confusing
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melodic-haze · 10 months ago
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☆ — DEMO TRACK: Lisa (GI) X parent!Reader
☆ — TYPE: Fluff, SFW
☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has a kid (who knows ab the origin yk what)
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Asked a friend about what one of my first posts should be thank you for this cute ahh thought but like. Imagine Lisa finding out that you have a child. Maybe you had them from like a past connection or you adopted them a while back
Children are always a heavy topic to discuss, especially already existing children while you're getting back into the dating scene. Quite a few people unfortunately don't really like it, opting to move on to the next person instead 😞😞 but luckily the librarian isn't one of them!! In fact, she's actually happy to meet them and more!!!!
Moment you bring your child up for the first time, you see her eyes practically glow in the sort of quiet joy only ever exclusive for you, her and now your little one :3. While she isn't rushing to talk about your kid or completely buzzing about it since it's not in her nature to do so, she's asking you for little bits of information about them as she organises it in her mind palace
You see your purple-clad lover take a small sip of her tea (earl gray, one of her most favoured blends due to its soothing properties) as her eyes briefly darted over to the many books that lined the library aisles. This was practically her home, something of a personal safe space for the witch-like woman within Mondstadt's walls.
Her gaze moves back to focus on you with that softly inquiring shade of green, genuine interest and the curiosity of a scholar that hasn't dulled in all the years she had spent out of practice mixing together, "Does your child like to read? They seem quite intelligent, so such a trait wouldn't be so strange. Perhaps I could create some sort of list for recommendations later."
Or so she says, but you know that she has already started to format it in her mind.. despite the lack of an answer from you, haha. You let her mind wander for a bit in comfortable silence—for a woman that claims to be lazy, quite a few things do seem to go on in her head.
When she meets them, she doesn't immediately go to rush at them or anything. She's a soft and patient woman (when you don't piss her off LOL) so she'll take time with getting to know your kid personally WHILE using the info she got from you to have them warm up to her even more. If the kid seems amicable to getting to know her then she's beyond happy!!! But if they seem resistant then that's fine with her too; this woman will take her time in coaxing your kid out of their shell. If you ever usher the child to be less guarded around her, she'll tell you not to do that bc she wants them to open up in their own time
She's so attentive 😭😭😭 she's the type to leave little sticky notes here and there for both you and your kid and recommend things according to their likes and dislikes (even if neither of you have said anything about it)
Naps with your child would definitely be a thing too :((( you just see them cuddled up somewhere and you KNOW Lisa's definitely slacking off as per usual but you can't find it in yourself to wake them up :(
You notice the soft glow of the afternoon light passing through the windows highlighting the slumbering pair and you just can't help the quiet chuckle that passes through your lips. It would be quite rude to interrupt their time together, nevermind the fact that it'd be a waste to mess up the seemingly comfortable positions they were in—your lover had her arms wrapped around your child, the latter's mouth slightly agape from their deep sleep.
You make a move to leave the room before you hear a small groan, to which you turn to and find that Lisa's eyes had opened the slightest bit to stare at you.
She slowly lifts a hand in a low-effort attempt to reach out at you, "Join us, dear... We have more than enough space for three people."
Really, why would you say no to such a nice offer?
All in all, she's not an overwhelming soccer mom who would post everywhere about your child. Rather, she's the type to watch them with a proud smile before offering to celebrate privately with whatever they'd like, just the three of you :3
Oh, and don't mind her trying to get your kid into tea HAHA that's definitely somehing that'll happen, with Lisa often joking about how by the time they become an adult they'll want to be a tea connoisseur
God I love her so bad :(
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queer-overwatch · 10 months ago
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another Sombra rq!!!! I love her sm ok,, ty for the last request btw bc LLORD I LOVED IT 🛐 okay this time I'm thinkin sombra x fem reader who REALLY adores the way olivia looks and stares at her all the time but then reader is super insecure abt herself,,, as always any format!! have a blessed day!!
Sombra x Insecure!Reader
Yippie! FYI Sombras my dps main so everytime we get a request for her I'm like "MINE" and yoink it before Xorn even has a chance to see it lmao, hope your happy with me doing everything for Sombra >:3 -Frisk
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"I don't know what he was doing, something stupid obviously" Sombra, you're wonderful, pretty, smart, amazing girlfriend, was talking shit as per usual, though this time it was about Reaper.
You were trying to pay attention, really! But it was hard, especially when Sombra was in the best lighting ever, and her hair was just slightly messed in a way that makes it more gorgeous than you could put into words.
It was hard to focus on anything but her, especially with how pretty she always was. Despite how bad you knew it was, you couldn't help but compare yourself to them sometimes. It wasn't normally on purpose, it was just hard to not feel out of place dating someone so perfect. She was so smart and the absolute best at her job, even when working with people so "incompetent" as she'd say. "Hey, querida, are you listening to me?" You're snapped out of your thoughts by Sombra flicking you on the forehead, staring at you seemingly annoyed. Good lordy even her annoyed face is pretty, you've really got an obsession. "Hm? Yeah! Yeah I'm listening, sorry." You reach out and grab the hand she used to flick you, rubbing her knuckles with your thumb as you nod for her to continue talking. "Right, well anyway, I don't know why these old people keep coming to me with their tech problems, I'm not tech support! The only person who I told I'd help is Siebren!" You nod along, half listening to her rant and half in your own head. How did she manage to look so beautiful even while pissed? You had no clue what her secret was, not to mention her amazing fashion sense. One time you tried to dress like her, took one look in the mirror, and immediately put on the baggiest clothes you had.
You loved her, obviously, and were always more than happy to take her out on dates, using any excuse you could to admire her, but you refused to dress up the way she did. Dresses just didn't look right, no matter how you styled your hair it didn't look the way you wanted it too. God forbid you try and go to the beach, you'd be sitting in the shade in a hoodie and sweatpants before you let her see how...disappointing you were. "Anyway, how was your day, estimada?" She drags you around, checking on some expensive looking technology you couldn't even think of touching, let alone understanding how it worked. "Boring, I didn't do much, never do really." You laugh off her question, trying to make a bit of a sad joke to distract her. She stares at you for a bit, silently judging what you think is everything about you. Maybe she finally realized that she was far too pretty to be with someone like you. You didn't think you were like, hideously ugly, but maybe she did?! What if she was planning to break up with you, who would want to date you if you were rejected by the Sombra!? "Fair enough, a day off does sound nice, actually. I'd love to laze around all day in pajamas, lucky you!" She pinches your cheek, teasing you as she finally looks back to one of her many screens. "Really?" It was hard to imagine, the usually dolled up Sombra, lazing about and dressed so casually. You were sure she's still look just as amazing as usual despite it, she was somehow so effortlessly perfect. You were, uh, there. "Maybe you should take a day off then! I'm sure they can handle one mission without you, even if your team is as useless as you say they are!" You grab her shoulders, spinning her to be facing you with what you can imagine is the biggest smile she's ever seen on your face. Any opportunity to be able to simply bask in her glory was an opportunity you were going to make use of! You could imagine it now, her sitting there, watching tv in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. There was no way your imagination could do it justice, you had to see her like that in real life or you'd simply keel over and die. "Maybe, I should be free tonight actually" She shrugs noncommittedly, but you could see the slightest hint of red in her cheeks! That meant it was a yes!
"Perfect! I'll go find some movies for us to watch! You better hurry finishing up whatever it is you're working on! I love you, be ready at 8!" You dash off, leaving her with a peck on the cheek and a timer to set.
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Scrambling around your room, you desperately try and make yourself look presentable but also try to make it look like you didn't try and this is just how you are 24/7. Sombra was always so flawless, you couldn't ruin their night by being ugly! You check your phone and nearly throw it across the room. It was already 7:58! What if she was waiting for you and she thinks you stood her up and gets mad?! You'd never forgive yourself if you made her wait on you! Glancing in the mirror, you stop worrying about the time, or what movie you'll watch, or how your little date will go. Everything was suddenly replaced by pure shame. All that time you spent trying to look on par with your girlfriend, and this is how it came out? All that effort and energy and materials for..this? Was it even worth it to try in the first place? You loved Sombra so, so, so much, but no matter what you did it felt like you were playing the role of the ugly girl obsessed with a movies main character that's just there for comedic effect.
You're knocked out of your own thoughts again by a tap on the shoulder, getting a feeling of deja vu. You turn and see Sombra, as perfect and gorgeous as ever.
"You ready yet, slowpoke?" She takes your hand, dragging you out of room before you can bother to respond. Leading you to her own private corner of Talon's base, a forgotten storage room that she'd stolen and made her own, a password for the handmade high-tech door and everything.
She shoves you down onto a beanbag and takes her spot next to you, dragging one of your arms around her shoulders and handing you a remote for the tv she'd snuck into the room years earlier.
"You gonna pick something or not?" Again with her teasing, this time though it didn't feel like her words would sink into your brain and repeat in a much meaner tone when you looked in the mirror. This time it felt soft, less stressful.
You nod, smiling and throwing on an old action movie you were reminded of last week. You both got comfortable, and you felt her rest her hand on your stomach, head against your shoulder.
It felt nice to be touched, especially by someone like her. It was hard to imagine, someone like her loving someone like you, but if she could love you, maybe you could learn to love yourself too.
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago
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Dirty Work 1
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: Outta left field.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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The brick facade stares back at you. You have to keep from gaping in awe. You're not a sightseer, you're there to work. A job. Your first ever. A bit late, but better than never.
You stop at the gate and hike up your kit as you shove your hand in your pocket in a cramped search. You slide out the flip phone and pop the top, clicking through for the email. The cheap burner is all you could afford and you needed a cell to get any sort of employment. Even just to live, it seems.
You click on the agency's email. A concise list of instructions for your first day. Alone. Last week, you shadowed a woman named Florence as she took you through an east-side home, but this week, you're on your own and uptown. The property is much nicer than any you've been in before. The sort you gaze at longingly in passing. A true urban palace.
You follow the first point on the list, keying in the code awkwardly with spaced-out punches. The last beep triggers a buzz as the mechanism releases and you turn the haandle to let yourself through the iron gate. You close it, pushing it to make sure it catches. You look around at the greenery; expertly trimmed hedges and a stone bench, flowerbeds clustered artfully in all shades. A mini Versailles in the heart of the city. The owners must be very well-off.
You gulp as you follow the stonework of the winding path along the curved driveway. Your shoulder aches from the weight of your kit and your spine is still rigid from the tense bus ride. You approach the front door and stagger to an awkward halt as you check the screen again. In all caps; DO NOT USE THE FRONT DOOR. You peer up over the stone steps and give a nod. Of course the help should go through the back.
You circle around to the rear of the house, the scent of pollen and the freshly groomed hedges clouding around you. You find the door nestled beneath a net of ivy and key in the next code. The very modern security contrasts the antique veneer of the house. You step into the silence of the grand home and listen. You're not sure if you're alone. What do you do if you aren't? It might be awkward to wash someone's floor without an introduction.
You move to the next directive; cover shoes. You squint and suck your lower lip in. You see the small box on the corner table tucked beside the door. You stay on the mat as you pull on the plastic shoe covers. It makes sense. You don't want to track in another mess to clean.
Again, your breath flies away from you. Even just the back hallway is divine, or maybe you're just brutish. You're not very hard to impress with what you're used to. A job won't cure it, but it'll make it bearable.
The next point; gloves. Okay. At least it's straightforward. The owners must be very particular. Or germaphobic. You let your assumptions write a story as you advance into the house. The email directs you to a closet where you are permitted to hang your things and where a mop, broom, and vacuum await you amid other supplies too big for your bag. Next point…
You proceed inside, slowly. The instructions are written almost to guide your every step. You move down the hallway with duster, broom, vacuum, and finally the mop. You're sweating by the time you get to the first doorway. The kitchen. Despite your employ, the place is already near immaculate. The only sign of life is a single black mug beside the sink.
It's eerie as you cross the tile, investigating with your eyes, almost too afraid to touch. You're going to have to if you mean to do good work. You continue down the list, doing your best to be thorough. When you return to the hall you're caught in place by a thought. There are no family pictures. It adds to the emptiness of it all. There are portraits of famous landmarks and imitations of reknowned artworks, though you wouldn't be surprised if they were genuine. But no family.
Next point. A bathroom just diagonal from the kitchen, spacious with dark wood and shining gold. You leave it smelling with the sterile scent of the cleaner. Back in the hall, you pause to drink from the water bottle in your bag. You head back down the hall intent on your next task. An hour already.
Another large room; a dining room that opens into a sitting room with a large fireplace. It really is amazing. Your father won't believe how nice it is here. You don't have time to worry about convincing him as you dive into your work. It isn't difficult work but you want to do a good job. You get this knot in your stomach just think of your boss, Clara, telling you otherwise or going home with bad news.
You finish the sitting room and go back to get your water. You nearly finish it. You check the time again, then the list. You can refill before you continue. You go back to the kitchen and cross to the fridge, pressing your bottle to the lever beneath the filter. It'd be nice to have something like that at home. You listen the hum of the fridge as you fill your bottle.
"Ahem," the clearing of a throat startles you and you jump, splashing yourself with cold water as you spin to face a tall man. He stares at you imperiously from the doorway, his figure lithe as he holds his chin up in dissatisfaction. "And who said you could do that?"
"Um," you swallow and look at your water bottle, fingers numbed by the water, "sorry, sir, I ran out--"
"Clean up your mess and get back to work," his lilted accent slices into you.
"Sorry, sir--"
"Bullet number one, A," he says tersely.
You frown as you struggle to understand. You replace the cap on your bottle and fish in the pocket of your black pants. You take out the phone and check the email. 'Do not speak unless permitted.' Well, he spoke to you first. It's the only reason you said anything. You're not very chatty yourself.
You keep from repeating sorry again and dip your head down. You take the cloth tucked into your pocket and bend to sop up the water from the floor. You don't look at him as he looms and you exit the room, sidling past him in shame. Oh no, you hope he doesn't tell Clara.
You replace your bottle in your bag. You'll go without. You look at your phone again. You can do this. No more mistakes.
You march back down the hall and dare a glance into the kitchen as you pass. He's already gone. That must be Mr. Laufeyson, the owner noted in the job description. Is it just him? He doesn't seem very fond of others. Or just you. You're just a maid, after all.
🧹
Your father's apartment is in the south. The fence is crooked and missing slats and the grass is patchy and yellowed. The porch groans as you climb the steps and let yourself into his side of the duplex. Cigarette smoke greets you with a cough in your throat. You open the window he shut in your absence as the TV blares in the next room. He's on the couch, puffing tobacco into the air in gray swirls. The place is even grimmer after a day amid your client's spotless halls.
"Hey dad," you say as you stand just beside the couch, "how was your day?"
He grunts and offers nothing else. That's about what you get from him. The effort of just that noise sends him to hack and his wrist tangles in his oxygen tube as brings his hand up. He knocks ash from the end of his cigarette onto the floor.
"First day alone went well," you say as he settles, breathing loudly as he tries to steady his breaths. "Think I did pretty good."
"Oh, big whoop, got a job, at last," he sneers, "about time. What're you? Thirty-three?"
"Thirty," you correct him, but don't add that your birthday is coming up.
"Same difference," he croaks and sucks on the smoke until he's coughing once more.
You try not to let him defeat you. It's just the way he is. You brought home A's from school and he wondered why they weren't A+'s. And when you got accepted to college, he asked you who was gonna pay for it. And when you filled out an application at the drive-thru window, he asked you if you were going to be another deadbeat flipping burgers.
"What, they got you scrubbing floors?" He spits, "you don't do it for free or something?"
He looks around venomously. You do clean but you can't get the yellow stains out of the wall or the stench out of the carpet. You won't say so.
"Did you eat yet?"
"Can't be near the stove with this thing," he taps the top of the tank on the other side of the armrest. He's also not supposed to smoke near it. Or at all.
"I'll heat up the hamburger helper from last night."
"Fucking dog food," he barks.
You wince. You love your father but he's a very picky man. Things must be his way or no way at all.
"Might have a frozen pizza," you suggest.
"Cardboard," he mutters.
You stand, silent and helpless. There isn't much else left in the fridge.
"Could afford better if you'd got your ass up ten years ago," he buts out his smoke and just as quickly, opens the pack to slide out another.
"I tried..."
"Not hard enough, eh," He takes off the oxygen tube and leans away from the tank to light the next cigarette, "not hungry. All your talkin' spoiled my appetite."
You apologise and leave before you can annoy him further. You're not very hungry either. Just sore and tired. Your feet hurt from being on them all day and your eyelids droop lower with each blink. You climb the stairs and drag your feet into your bedroom and shut the door gently. Your father hates when you slam. You don't like it much yourself.
You fall into bed as the musty air clings in your nose. You close your eyes and roll onto your side. You sigh. You figure if you can handle your father, you can handle Mr. Laufeyson and his list.
🧹
Your next job is in the eastside. It's not as precise or overbearing. The instructions are standard; a list of the rooms that need cleaning and a tip left on the counter. The email says the family is out of town. How nice it must be to come home to a nice, clean house. You pad out the three-day week with two more home in the northwest suburbs. The money would be better if you could work a full week but so long on you're in your probation period, you only get part-time hours.
Your second week starts again in the north, outside the Laufeyson property. The codes are different but the list is the same. You begin your work diligently. This time, you ration your water, and pay special attention to each step. Once you're through this week, you get your first check. Dad should be happy about that.
As you get to the front room, a living room or what some might call den, you set first to dusting the ornaments on the high mantel. You find the more you do it, the work is almost soothing. It's simple and mindless. You admire the silver candlestick, careful not to loosen the tall candle placed in it.
"Shiny," the slither frightens you. You quickly replace the candlestick at the corner of the mantle and face that man; the presumed Mr. Laufeyson. "Somehow, I feel it wouldn't belong in wherever you call home."
You lower your eyes. Florence says most clients are friends but she warned you about these ones. Those who deride you and the work they don't want to do themselves.
"The previous one did think they were lovely," he muses as he struts forward, his long steps like a cat's, "too bad they were too big for her bag."
You flick your gaze back up and blanch. "Sir, I wouldn't--"
He tilts his head as his eyes flash dangerously. You snap your mouth shut and give an apologetic frown. You press a finger to your lips to say, I'll be quiet.
"She was chatty too. You girls always are."
You nod and listen. Your throat constricts as you wring the cloth in your hands. You think you might not be very forgiving if someone tried to steal from you either.
"But..." he looks at his watch, "you are quick."
The comment drips from his mouth as if it tastes bitter to him. It isn't quite praise, only a fact, but it isn't a reproach. He smirks and snickers.
"And you do look rather terrified. We're understood then."
You give another nod. You think you understand. You wouldn't think to steal but you can't blame him for putting down rules. You squint and your brow twitches as your ears tinge.
"Point one C," you whisper to yourself; 'Do not steal.'
He pauses as he goes to pivot on his heel. He lifts his chin and shifts as if he might look at you. He doesn't as he carries on to the door.
"You may refill your bottle once per shift," he pauses by the door, tapping the frame before he leaves you.
You stay stuck to the floor, wavering as you watch him go. He wasn't nice, but he didn't dismiss you either. You can stomach his disapproval if it means you still have work.
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago
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Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Two)
Hiiii! Sorry about the wait on this one — life has been an emotional rollercoaster recently 😬but here’s 22! 23 will be the final chapter 😭 @greeneyedivy our baby is all grown up 😭 Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT. SWEET, PASSIONATE HOETRY🌶️🌶️
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
All seven of the courts had felt the tremor. 
Not a physical thing, but…a shifting of power. A change. 
The High Lord of the Autumn Court had been felled. There would be relief amongst most, and perhaps a feeling of disappointment amongst those who thought the way Beron Vanserra had, who saw the world through the same narrowed eyes.
Azriel would feel nothing but a quiet satisfaction. He wouldn’t waste another thought on the callous bastard.
“So Eris now becomes High Lord.” Cassian scoffed from the chair beside him. “Are all Vanserras not the same? Are we not just losing one viper and replacing it with another?”
Azriel was usually the first to agree, but…his mind flitted back to that courtiers meeting at the Sacred Mountain. How Lucien and Dion’s fiancee had attended on behalf of the Autumn Court. How Y/N had handed Azriel a hand-written note from Eris. 
The High Lord of the Autumn Court is up to something. Destruction is coming. I offer you forewarning in hope of any assistance you can spare. It is time we put aside our troubles in the interest of everyone who might become caught up in my father’s mess. 
Azriel had kept an eye on the Autumn Court since then. Had seen exactly what Beron had been up to. “Eris speaks the truth,” he said.
Cassian snorted. “For once.”
“Beron had begun killing the people of his own court. The power was going to his head. It was only so long before he would start turning on others, also.”
“That doesn’t mean that Eris—”
“Bad and bloody histories aside, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected, “Eris went behind his father’s back to warn us — perhaps to warn other courts, too, for all we know. And then he plunged a knife into his heart. Ended him.”
The Illryian general crossed his broad arms over his chest. “So…what? We’re to trust him now?”
“I didn’t say that.” Rhys shrugged. “But to be a new High Lord is a precarious position to be in. Every other High Lord, every other court, will be sniffing Eris Vanserra out to suss what kind of High Lord he’s going to be. They’ll be looking for vulnerabilities, weaknesses. The transition into power does not come without a target on your back.”
Azriel nodded once. “He’ll be looking for allies. People he can trust.”
“He’ll need help.” Rhysand concurred. “And it is never a bad thing, Cassian, to be needed. Should he have poor intentions, we’ll be the first to know. And if he’s genuine, then, well…perhaps it’ll be a step towards mending the strained relations between our two courts.”
A muscle in Cassian’s jaw ticked; a sure sign of disapproval. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “is that I should start making friendship bracelets?”
“What I’m saying is that Eris Vanserra needs our alliance right now. And perhaps he’s full of shit. Totally possible.” The High Lord sat back. “But perhaps he longs for a better world as much as we do.”
There was no arguing the matter; not under their High Lord’s command. So Cassian stretched his arms over his head and kept his opinions to himself, no matter how badly they wanted to burst from his mouth.
Rhysand’s knowing violet eyes turned to the shadowsinger. “Go to the Autumn Court on behalf of ours, Az.” He said. “Offer the new High Lord our assistance.”
So Azriel did.
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There was an area in the southernmost part of the Autumn Court that even the varying shades of reds and yellows and oranges didn’t touch. 
A cold and empty landscape of beige, broken only by the gargantuan structure that housed Autumn’s most cold-blooded criminals. A fortress made of rare, unbreakable stone and steel, everything about it felt wrong. Sickening and oily. One glance at its domineering facade could have a person turning on their feet and running in the other direction.
Which was precisely what you wished to do.
A warm hand slid across the small of your back. “You don’t have to do this,” Lucien spoke into your ear. “Just say the word, and we’ll go straight back home.”
Gods above, you were tempted. It would be so, so easy to bury your head in the sand and pretend that your father wasn’t somewhere within those walls with answers you so desperately needed. 
But you thought of Eris. Eris had been brave. Eris had faced everything head-on.
So you would, too.
“It’s fine.” You plastered a watery smile on your face. “I’m ready.”
Lucien’s hand enclosed around yours, and together you walked the dreadful path to the looming building. The sentries stationed all around the place took one glimpse at your mate’s Vanserra features, the confidence and authority with which he carried himself, and allowed you to enter. 
If outside was domineering, then inside was…suffocating.
Immediately, it was like having your head shoved underwater. You gulped down as much air as you could whilst you followed a guard down a level, and then another, the scarce light dwindling even more, the walls damp and narrow. This was not forever. You and Lucien would walk out of here.
Your father would not. 
He was being kept in one of the cells of the lower levels; a dark, dingy box with a hard bed and a scratchy blanket. On it sat your father.
And he looked…pathetic. 
Small. Insignificant. Self-pitying. He didn’t notice your approach, at first, curled in on himself as he perched on the edge of that bed. And when he finally looked up, he had the nerve to look relieved to see you.
As though you were here to spare him. To get him out.
“You have a visitor.” The guard droned, unlocking the door. “I’d make the most of it, if I were you.”
Indeed. This was the only time you were stepping into this soulless place.
With a nod to you, the guard stationed himself just beside the door. You were half-tempted to bolt. And you knew Lucien would bolt with you if you did. 
But you gripped hold of his hand and stepped in. 
“You came.” Your father said on an exhaled breath. “It’s good to see you.” 
You pressed yourself back against the furthest wall; as far from him as you could possibly get in the confined space. Lucien remained at your side. “I came for answers.” You announced.
“I know you’ve probably heard a lot of things—”
“I’m going to say this only once, father,” your voice, thankfully, held. It sounded far stronger than you felt. “If you lie to me even once in this conversation…if you try to pass the blame or make yourself out to be the victim…I will tell the new High Lord that he has free reign to dole out whatever punishment he sees fit. It will not be pretty. It will not be merciful. One word from me, and you could end up exactly as Beron Vanserra did.”
Your father stared at you, having the good sense to look worried. It seemed almost as though he was seeing you for the first time; seeing what you had become, with absolutely no help from him. You were strong. You were moral. You were the opposite of what he was. 
But perhaps the hardest thing was that he hadn’t always been this way.
Or maybe he had, and he’d hidden it well. You didn’t know which would be worse.
“Are we clear?” You pushed quietly. “No lies. Only truthful answers.”
Your father dipped his chin. “We’re clear.”
Folding your arms over your chest, you stared him down. You tried to keep the images at bay that so badly wanted to overtake; of you, as a girl, free and worriless, fond of a father who doted on her. Of an adolescent female who was coming into her own, discovering who she was, who she wanted to be, and was supported unconditionally, even when she went against the grain and did the opposite of what was socially acceptable. Of someone who had once thought that no matter what might happen, no matter where she ended up, she would always have her father’s love—
“You sold me to Beron Vanserra.” The words, icy and taut, fell from your mouth.
“No—”
“You sold me to him — sent me straight into his pit — knowing exactly what he was capable of. What the two of you were cooking up together.”
Your father’s mouth tightened. “He swore that no harm would come to you. He gave me his word. Sending you to marry Dion was about ensuring your safety. About getting you away from what we were were doing—”
“It was about,” you snapped, cutting him off, “ensuring that I didn’t discover your dirty little secret and foil your plans. I read the letters you sent to Beron. You were just worried that I would get in the way.”
And gods, that fact hurt far more than you liked to admit. Your father slunk back a little, knowing damn well you saw right through him. 
“People died,” you hissed. “Two females, with families who are now grieving them. A male who toiled day and night in that poor little hamlet, only for Beron to raze it to the ground and take his life. Three people are dead, thanks to the faebane that you sold him.”
“I swear to you, I never knew what he intended to do with the faebane. I was just trying to stop our family going under, losing our reputation.” He stared at you. “You have to believe me.”
You scoffed. The thought of ever believing another word he said was laughable. Lucien was silent at your side, allowing you to speak, to do what you needed to do, but just the warm press of his arm against yours was enough. A comfort. 
“You must not know me at all, father,” you gritted your teeth, “because if you did, you would know that I would rather be poor, and destitute, and hungry, than have all the money in the world to abuse people with.”
He stared back at you, realisation slowly passing his face…that you meant it. That you were not like him. That social standing had never mattered. For you, it had been about family, about love. Always.
And you’d found those very things someplace else. Found them stronger, realer.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” your father’s voice was low, pathetic, “other than that I’m sorry.”
“Do you think sorry is going to cut it?”
The words came from Lucien, not you. You looked to your mate to find him staring at your father, his face a sheet of pure wrath and hatred. His teeth were gritted; a sure sign he was reining himself in, for your benefit only.
“Of course not—”
“Do you think,” Lucien seethed, “that you can apologise away the act of handing your daughter over to a male who has a reputation for his disregard, his hatred, for females? Do you think you can excuse it with pathetic stories about wanting to keep the family reputation intact? When everybody sees right through you — sees that it was about money, and nothing more?”
Your heart swelled in your chest at the mere tone of his voice, let alone his words. He was as passionate about this as you were, as cuttingly angry. You swept your thumb over the back of his palm in silent thanks.
“I do not claim to be perfect.” Your father levelled. “But you will understand, one day, when you have children of your own—”
“When I have children of my own,” Lucien snapped, “a daughter of my own. I will think back to you. I will think about how pathetic, how cowardly you are, and I will hold her tighter than you ever held Y/N, and protect her from so much as a threat of harm. Just as you failed to do. My daughter will never have to look me in the face and ask why money and reputation was more important to me than she ever was.”
The words lingered in the air, heavy and steeled and true. You thought you might bowl over from the impact of them. The impassioned tone of his voice.
Gods, you loved this male. You’d known you were lucky to have him, but—
It hit you only then — the simple luxury of finding a male to love you, who was the complete opposite of the one that had raised you.
“I decided,” you spoke, staring your father in the eye, “that I would come here today, and look at you, and know whether or not I would ever be able to forgive you. I know, now, that I won’t. Ever. The things you’ve done—”
“It’s not like you haven’t benefited from my plan,” your father cut in. He glanced at Lucien. “I sent you to the Vanserra Estate — and you found your mate there. Congratulations.”
You stilled. 
For a moment, you were lost for words. At the sheer arrogance of his tone, the suggestion that you should be grateful in some way. Lucien growled quietly at your side. 
And then you let the words wash over you. You straightened your shoulders. “There is no point to me being here. Talking to you.” You said. “Just tell me one thing. Did mother know what you were doing?”
Your father silently stared at you. He didn’t need to breathe a word for the truth to sink in. Yes, she had known. Yes, she had been just as willing a participant as he was.
That was all you needed, to fully close the door on the life you’d once had. 
They may have raised you, yes. But they had been just as willing to endanger you. 
And when this cell door closed behind you, and you walked out of the harrowing depths of the Autumn Court prison, it would be a symbolic thing; a gesture of walking away from the family you’d once known, and towards the one you wanted to know.
“Enjoy yourself, rotting down here.” Was the last thing you offered. You stepped towards the door, pulling Lucien with you, and paused to glance over your shoulder. “I hope you get what’s coming to you. Just like Beron did.”
And then you strolled out of there, desperate for fresh air.
And you didn’t feel one kernel of regret over your words.
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Lucien winnowed the both of you to the trees limning the Roselands Estate. The place had been a hub of activity in the days that had passed since Beron had been taken down, and though the residence was still considerably sized, there was an intimate, familial feeling to being under the same roof as the people you’d faced such horrors with. There was safety in going to bed with Lucien at night, and knowing that you need only traverse the hallways to reach Dion and Willow, or Eris and Linden, or Catrin. Even Tamlin had stuck around. You thought you might miss it, once the huge manor was rebuilt.
You stepped towards the path that wended through rose bushes, right up to the front door — but Lucien tugged you to a stop. Spun you around to face him.
“What is it?” You stared up at him, trying to read what was in his eyes. 
“I’m just…in awe of you.” He studied your face. “So proud.” 
Your throat bobbed. “Those words you said—”
“I’m sorry. I know that it was about you going in there to face your father, but my anger got the better of me. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut—”
You pushed up onto the tips of your toes, swallowing his words as you slanted your lips over his. He would never, ever need to apologise for supporting you. For being at your side.
His breath seemed to hitch in his throat — a common reaction, you’d found, that he had when you kissed him. You smiled against his lips, tucking his braid behind his ear. 
“I love you.” You said. “And when we have some privacy, I’m going to show you exactly how it made me feel when you said what you said.”
His eyes flashed, heating like dark, melted chocolate. But it was with utter tenderness that he pulled your hand from where it still lingered in the strands of his hair and raised it to his lips, kissing your palm. 
“My fireling.” He murmured. “You are—”
“Are you two going to stand out there gazing at each other all day?” A deep, accented voice barked from the front door. “We have a visitor.”
You glanced over to find Linden leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his lips. You scowled at him as you tugged Lucien with you. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to see you making those goo-goo eyes at each other.” Your friend turned on his feet, leading you into the house. “Come. We’re about to eat.”
You met Lucien’s eyes as the two of you trailed after him. A visitor; it had unexpected anticipation roiling inside you. You supposed you’d spent the last five days of recovery in somewhat of a bubble — one of safety. Going to visit your father at the prison had drained your social energy reserves for one day. But there was, indeed, a vaguely familiar scent snaking through the halls. One that reminded you of frosty nights and cedarwood—
Linden strolled into the dining room, and you stopped at the threshold, a smile pulling at your lips. 
Azriel shadowsinger, spymaster of the Night Court, in all his winged, night-veiled glory, glanced up upon your arrival and took in the sight of you and Lucien — your joined hands.
“Good to see you again, lady.” He greeted you, and then looked markedly at Lucien. “I see you finally made your move.”
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“It was so kind of you — to offer your aid.” 
Across the table, the shadowsinger met Catrin’s warm, kind eyes. He dipped his chin at her gratitude. “I come with well wishes from the Night Court, lady.” 
“You’re the first to offer any sort of help.” Eris took a long draw of his wine. He looked…tired. Better, undoubtedly, but every day since Beron’s death had been full to the brim. No room to breathe. “I assure you, it’s even more appreciated, given our…terse history.”
You could have sworn, at that, there was the slightest stilling and stiffening of Azriel’s body. But his face gave away nothing. You subtly shot Lucien a glance, only for him to vaguely shake his head at you. Tell you later, the gesture promised.
“Whilst there has surely been bad blood on both sides,” Azriel offered quietly, “I come here with entirely genuine intentions. With kind regards on behalf of the Night Court. Rhysand remembers what the transition to High Lord was like, and given that your letter to me hinted that you are interested in a lot less blood being spilled…we agree that it’s wise to put aside our conflicts in the name of bettering the world.”
“Well,” Eris poured himself another glass of wine, “with my father gone, that’s one less ruthless bastard to worry about.” 
A heavy silence — filled with unspoken agreement — snaked around the table. No one had broached the topic of Beron as of yet — no one had had the nerve to, nor had they wanted to ruin the bliss of just…knowing he was no longer there to terrorise any of you. But with his name hanging in the air between you, it was hard to ignore. 
“What of your brothers?” Azriel asked. “Jareth and Rian, is it? What course of action do you plan to take with them? Bear in mind that how you choose to punish them for their involvement in your father’s schemes will determine how people perceive you as High Lord.” 
Across from you, Catrin’s gaze lowered to the table. You knew this was the hardest part for her; they were still her sons, when all was said and done. And though she knew of what they’d done…the havoc they’d wreaked…it was still painfully hard to consider what the consequences of those actions might be.
“I haven’t entirely decided.” Eris admitted. “Perhaps you can aid me in coming to a decision, Azriel. I either lock them both up — like I have with Y/N’s father — or have them exiled, never to return. In a way, their crimes are worse than those Jesper committed. He may well have sold the faebane to my father, but Jareth and Rian set the fires that those two females perished in. Perhaps death isn’t too harsh a punishment.”
“Eris.” Catrin softly warned. Her eyes fell to his wine glass — one that you all knew had been refilled a good few times, now. “Now isn’t a good time to think about this.”
Indeed, it was one of many matters that Eris had to face. You didn’t envy him one bit. He lowered his gaze to his plate without a word; you could have sworn that beside him, Linden’s hand moved beneath the table to rest on his thigh. 
You cleared your throat, sitting up. “It’s been only five days since…everything happened. This is bound to be a period of adjustment. Focus on yourself first, Eris. Jareth and Rian and my father are all detained. You can mete out justice when things are a bit more…settled.”
Eris met your gaze, pure gratitude shining in his own. Sometimes it took someone saying the words for him to realise it was okay to think them. 
“Y/N is right.” Azriel nodded. “It’s not as though they can harm anyone else. Face everything else first. Show your courtiers, your people, that you can handle this. Show them a unified front.”
Eris inclined his chin. “How long can we expect you here for?”
“As long as you need.” Azriel answered. “Although, you undoubtedly have a good support system around you. I have no doubt that you’ll be just fine.”
The two males stared at each other, the fleeting moment seeming strangely…intimate. Whatever had transpired between them in the past, whatever had caused that bad blood…perhaps it truly was time for it to come to an end.
For whatever reason, Azriel’s words seem to mean something to Eris. He appeared touched, as though the sentiment coming from the spymaster’s mouth meant a lot more to him than anyone realised. His shoulders seemed to loosen slightly, and he sat up straighter.
“It’s greatly appreciated.” Eris said. “I look forward to working with you.”
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Days passed by in a blur. 
Azriel had kept to his word, and his presence every day had been more of a help than Eris had initially anticipated. It meant something…to have the shadowsinger offer thoughts and opinions, advice and constructive criticism. To help the new High Lord of the Autumn Court to get stuff done. 
And at the end of every one of those days, Eris was absolutely exhausted. And yet — too wired to sleep.
It had become a common occurrence for him to sit up well into the late hours, watching the moon cast shadows across the garden as his thoughts pelted him relentlessly. Sometimes ones of a self-doubting nature. Others of just…pure worry. That the worst wasn’t over, and his loved ones were still at risk. Sometimes certain thoughts had him swearing that he could smell Beron’s blood still staining the air. Sometimes he swore he could see it on his hands—
His eyes shuttered as he pulled his knees into his chest, perched on the windowsill that he’d taken a particular liking to. There was no use thinking about these things; Beron was dead and gone. Everyone was safe. Peace would be restored once more.
Just an adjustment period, he reminded himself. It’s just an adjustment period.
Eris reached for the decanter of wine that sat on the nearby writing table — and paused, his hand hovering mid-air, as a soft rap fell on the door.
He debated simply ignoring the knock. It was well past two o’clock in the morning, by now, and he was sure a more urgent matter would warrant a lounder, stronger pounding on the wood. But when the sound was repeated, he sighed softly and pushed to his feet. 
He pulled the door open to find Linden stood at the other side — in all his half-naked glory. A loose pair of trousers barely clinging to his hips was the only item of clothing that covered him.
Eris tried not to stare. And failed. 
“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching for the answer on Linden’s face. 
“You tell me.” Linden replied, his lips twitching. “I can hear you brooding from down the hall.”
“I am not brooding.”
“You’ve sighed about seventy-four times in the last five minutes.”
The redhead’s eyebrows flicked up. “You could try going to sleep. Then you wouldn’t hear my sighs.”
“I quite enjoyed your sighs that night in the forest.”
The two males stared at each other, challenge sparking between them. Neither had bothered to seek the other out past bedtime; too much was going on, too many things to think about. And Eris would be lying if he proclaimed not to have considered crossing the hall to Linden’s room when sleep evaded him, but…they didn’t really know each other. Even if it felt like they did. 
Linden tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
For a split second, Eris merely…studied him. And then he was stepping aside, allowing Linden to trail into the room, his scent hitting him as he strolled past. Eris’s eyes shuttered. That damned scent; it took him right back to the feeling of Linden’s head bowed between his legs, his tongue working on him—
“So this is where you sleep.” Linden hummed. “Or rather — don’t sleep.”
“If I’m keeping you awake, I can have you moved to another room—”
“I don’t want to move to another room. I want to know why you don’t come to mine when you’re in need of comfort.”
Eris stared at him, wondering what the appropriate response was. Part of him wanted to argue — to defensively insist that he wasn’t in need of comfort; though that would be a lie. Or perhaps brutal honesty was the way to go; we had that thing in the forest, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything…
Complicated. This was complicated. With females, he’d be an expert flirt, a skilled lover, and so silver-tongued in breaking hearts that they never seemed to realise that he’d given them the brush-off until he was far, far away.
But with Linden, it was…different. He found himself turning his words over in his head, not wanting to say the wrong thing, to make a fool of himself—
“I didn’t want to assume that you were offering up your counsel. I know that you came here for Y/N, and that what happened between us that night was very heat of the moment, but I don’t…expect anything from you.”
Did that sound dismissive? Gods, he hoped not. He balled his fists at his sides, wondering if it’d be more pathetic to take the words back or just run with them.
But then Linden was stepping up to him. Studying him closely. The teasing in his eyes had been replaced by tenderness. 
“I like you, Eris Vanserra,” He hummed, and his accent wrapping around his name almost brought Eris to his knees. “I came here for Y/N’s sake, yes. But I’m staying here as much for yours as I am for hers.”
Eris lowered his eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to—”
His words cut off as Linden brushed a strand of hair from his face. Leant down. Coasted his lips against his. “Shh.” He whispered. “I don’t expect anything from you, either, if there’s nothing you wish to give. But I wish to give you my comfort — which I think you need right now. If you’ll let me.”
Eris met his gaze again. He knew and understood nothing but what he wanted as he gave a nod. 
“Tell me what you want.” Linden murmured. “And you can have it.”
“...could you just—hold me?”
The intense tenderness with which Linden beheld him was almost too much — something Eris was entirely unused to. But before he could buckle and burn under his gaze, Linden’s lips were at his again. 
The kiss was soft. Gentle. Brief. And just as Eris readied himself to lean into it, Linden pulled away, grabbing his hand. He laced their fingers together.
“Come.” The brilliant male murmured. “You need to sleep.”
And Eris couldn’t deny that. It was why he had no objections as Linden guided him over to the bed, lying himself down first, and then pulling Eris down beside him.
Eris was by no means a short male. His legs were long, slender but muscled. But Linden was far bigger, and the size difference was almost comical. Eris felt strangely small as Linden tugged him back, pressing his back to his front.
He snaked one arm under him, the other over him, and laced their fingers together. And the scrape of his calluses…the warmth…the feeling of Linden’s breath hitting the back of his neck and stirring the strands of his hair…it had Eris’s eyes growing heavy in no time.
“Sleep.” Linden whispered, brushing his thumb over the back of Eris’s palm. 
Eris was out cold before he could even think of a response.
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Time was an exquisite healer — for everyone. And there was something so quietly beautiful about healing together. 
It bonded you all in a way that you knew was unbreakable. You were a family, and even as small drops of normality began to seep back in, your unit remained strong. 
Weeks passed of Eris becoming acclimated to being High Lord, and those initial days of fragility seemed to be a distant memory. He was stepping into the role gradually — with the help of Azriel and Tamlin — and had begun to publicly attend to duties here and there. To name himself as the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And when Azriel and Tamlin eventually announced their departure, you all knew — Eris was ready to do this on his own.
You were all still at Roselands; you and Lucien, Dion and Willow, Eris and Linden and Catrin. But the rebuilding of the manor was coming along swimmingly, and you’d each visited here and there to watch bits and pieces of what felt like a symbolic thing; not only the rebuilding of a home, but of a life, too. 
The days were long and busy, all of you pitching in to establish a new era for the Autumn Court. 
But today — today was about relaxing. 
The sun was shining; one of the rare warm days that the Court sometimes experienced. And with it came a general feeling of positivity. It wasn’t hard for you all to agree to have the day off from official business and just…enjoy yourselves. And you’d done exactly that, spending most of the day basking in the sun, swimming in the lake, walking through the garden. It felt like a holiday; a blissful break from reality.
With the sun still shining into the evening, it was decided that you’d dine together outside amongst the fruit trees and the lingering day’s warmth. Linden — an exquisite cook — had put on a spread fit for a king, and it was over steaming, aromatic dishes and sweating pewter jugs of wine that you sunk happily into a family meal, conversation and laughter a constant presence around the table. 
“So I was understandably put out by how rude he was being,” you laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you told the whole story of yours and Lucien’s journey, “and I said to him, you don’t even know me. And do you know what he said? Let’s keep it that way. My first night there. I wanted to punch him.”
You were met with a chorus of laughter, Lucien chuckling beside you and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I’m sorry, my love.” 
Rather comically, Catrin gaped at him. “That was so rude of you. I taught you better than that.”
“I know, I know.” Your mate held up his hands. “What can I say? I was drawn to Y/N from the second I glimpsed her punching a tree, and it terrified me.”
You grinned up at him, squeezing his leg beneath the table. Across from you, Dion smiled at the two of you fondly. 
“You both deserve your happy ending.” He said, his hand absentmindedly playing with Willow’s hair. “We all do.”
“Speaking of which,” Eris sat forward, fixing his gaze on you, on Lucien. “I think the two of you should take a break. Go somewhere nice together. Relax, or even travel if you want to. Just…enjoy each other’s company for a few weeks. The gods know, you’ve earned it.”
You blinked at him. “There’s still so much to be done—”
“You’ve done enough.” Eris smiled. “We can manage. You haven’t had a chance to just…enjoy your bond, yet. So take a small vacation. Relax. Enjoy the beginning of the rest of your lives. If I have to make it an order, I will.”
Beside you, Lucien dipped his chin. “We appreciate it, brother, really. But — what if you need us nearby? Granted, we could winnow back, but with everything so new—”
“You could go to Dayview.” Catrin cut in — so abruptly that you all turned to look at her. She studied you fondly. “Dayview Cottage. It’s not far from here, and it’s not like it’s being used…”
Something tugged at your heart. That place was personal to her, had sat untouched with the ghosts of her past for years — and yet she was offering it up for you and Lucien.
“…that’s so kind of you,” you said gently. “But we wouldn’t want to impose.”
You could only assume that the others knew of Dayview’s existence — but not its history. They stared between you and Catrin curiously.
“It would mean a lot to me, actually.” She said, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “You know…for it to be used again. And for such a wonderful thing.”
Lucien leaned down, kissing your head. You could see the mark of respect in his and his brothers’ eyes; that they knew there was more to the story, but it was their mother’s to tell, if she ever wanted to.
“We’d love to go there.” Lucien told her, his voice gentle. “Thank you.”
You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to hold if you spoke your gratitude. Thankfully, Eris was speaking before you had to.
“That’s settled, then. Y/N and Lucien are taking a break away from here,” he said, and added with a wink, “and that’s an order — as your High Lord.”
Just like that, the heavy, emotionally-charged moment was swept away with more laughter. Linden rolled his eyes fondly at Eris. “You and your orders.”
Eris smirked back at him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
The two of them had been pretty open, these past weeks, with whatever this thing was that existed between them. Nobody spoke of it. It was just…part of what you all were, now. Perhaps another happy ending. 
And they were also expertly good at getting into flirtatious, verbal sparring matches that nobody, for the life of them, could break up. They seemed to be on the cusp of another one of those, challenge sparking in Linden’s eyes — but it was as he leaned closer to Eris that a flash of light in your periphery stopped you all in your tracks.
Bright, white light, so vibrant it had you squinting and shielding your eyes with your hands. Like a starburst, a beacon of brilliant daylight, like the sun itself had stepped into the garden—
And in its wake, as the light eddied away…a figure.
You should have known who he was from the first glance.
If the fashion of loose, white fabric hanging from his muscled body wasn’t indication enough, or the flowing locks of hair and dark skin and a spiked crown of what looked to be sun rays, then Catrin’s face surely should have told you.
She had gone white as a sheet. Her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her wine-red hair against her pale skin looked like blood on snow. For a moment, it didn’t look like she was breathing.
Every single one of you seemed to be staring between the two of them as they gazed at each other. And after what felt like an eternity of terse, weighty silence, Eris pushed out of his chair, clearing his throat.
“Helion Spell-Cleaver.” He acknowledged, bowing his head. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
And Helion didn’t look away — not once — from Catrin, as he croaked out, “I should have come a long time ago.”
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The tension did die down…a little.
Enough for Helion to join you all at the table and accept a glass of wine. But what had felt like a warm gathering before was now somewhat…crowded. Like you were imposing on something you should have no part in.
“I appreciate your visit.” Eris told him; even if you all knew — Eris himself included — that he wasn’t here for him. He was being…diplomatic. Holding the conversation while Catrin gathered her thoughts. “You’re welcome here, of course. Please…help yourself to food.”
Helion cleared his throat, bowing his head in thanks. “I went to the manor first. I knew it had burned down, of course, but…I was informed I could find you here.”
Could find you here. His eyes had been on Catrin as he’d said that. Her cheeks flushed.
“Another estate of ours.” Eris explained with a nod. “It’s where we’ve been staying while the manor is being rebuilt.” 
You were barely aware of Helion’s response, as you stared and stared. Like puzzle pieces suddenly slotting into place, it became clear to you in an instant. 
A male she had loved.
A male who had gifted her a cottage, for them to meet in. Dayview Cottage. Undoubtedly from the High Lord of Day. 
Helion — the Helion Spell-Cleaver — was the true love from her tale. Had seemingly come back for her.
And perhaps more pressing…
You studied the High Lord of the Day Court as he answered Eris’s questions, one eye always seeming to be on Catrin. Studied the straight nose, the cut of his jaw. How familiar those features were. Ones you stared at every day.
In Lucien’s face.
Lucien, whose golden skin had always been a few shades darker than that of his brothers’. Lucien, who had never resembled Beron at all — or even Catrin, really, aside from the hair.
Lucien, your mate…who you were sure was the son of Helion Spell-Cleaver.
You swallowed, pushing the thoughts from your brain. Whatever the truth was…it was Catrin’s to tell. You couldn’t involve yourself.
Right now, she needed to speak to Helion. Alone.
Clearing your throat loudly, you sat up. “How about we play some games?” Your eyes bounced around Dion and Willow, Linden and Eris. Very pointedly.
Eris stared back at you. And then seemed to realise. What the extent of the males’ knowledge was of their mother’s history, you had no clue. But the three of them were, at least, aware enough to realise that Catrin had some things to face.
“We’ll be inside, should you want to join us.” You followed them in pushing to your feet, sending the High Lord of Day a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
Helion dipped his chin — to you, and to the others. “And you.”
Lucien was just…staring. At his mother, at Helion, an unreadable expression on his face. You wrapped a warm hand around his and squeezed. The truth would one day all rise to the surface, whatever it may be, but…not now. You’d all faced enough upheaval for now.
“Come,” you said softly, and Lucien finally followed. Not without one last look over his shoulder at the ancient love that was now evident at that table, filling the garden with its presence. You wondered what he saw as he looked at them.
“I’ve…never seen her look like that before.” He seemed to answer your thoughts, his thumb brushing the back of your palm.
“Like what?” You asked.
“Like she feels safe.”
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You fell asleep, that night, to the sounds of Catrin’s and Helion’s voices in the garden, mingling well into the late hours.
And you thought that perhaps the world was truly healing — one good heart at a time.
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There was no other feeling like you and your mate being entirely in a world of your own.
The magic that encased Dayview Cottage made it blissfully private, and within just a day of being there, you knew you could happily stay there forever.
It was far smaller and more intimate than Roselands; more akin to the gamekeeper’s cottage. No one besides you and Lucien for miles and miles. If you needed anything, you need only speak it aloud, and the cottage’s magic would summon it. 
Bad memories were distant. Unimportant.
The first day was about rest. It seemed that exhaustion, physical and mental, had finally caught up to the both of you; unsurprising, really, given that the recent months of your lives had been nothing but constant chaos and drama. You and Lucien had arrived at the cottage, and there’d been nothing more luxurious than collapsing into the huge, fresh-smelling bed — the afternoon sun shining outside — and just…falling asleep together. 
You awoke hours later to Lucien’s warm, attentive gaze on you, his fingers indolently playing with the strands of your hair. You’d merely leaned up to brush your lips against his cheek.
“This is where they came together, isn’t it?” He’d said, his voice rough with sleep. You knew who he was talking about. “Dayview Cottage.”
You’d reached out, smoothing the lines of deep thought from his face. His eyes had shuttered at your touch. “It is.”
It was a while before he spoke again. Before he’d finished luxuriating in the gentle coasting of your fingertips against his skin. But when he did, it was a quiet sentiment that you echoed in your heart and soul.
“I hope they come here again.”
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The second day, with your energy restored a little, was about exploring. 
You and Lucien spent the entire morning discovering the beauty of the nature that stretched around you, wandering through the forest until you came to a lake, the shore of which you sat and ate at together, a picnic of fruits and cheeses and juice. You swam naked together, bathed in the sun together, talked for hours and hours and caught up on all the things you simply hadn’t gotten to know about each other, given how volatile your journey had been up until now.
It was bliss. And it almost brought a tear to your eye to think that the rest of your life could be — would be — like this, but—
But Lucien didn’t touch you, beyond the handholding, the absentminded caresses, the lazy kisses. Even as clear hunger and heat had flashed in his eyes as he’d watched you towel your naked body off — and you’d watched the way it very clearly affected him — he’d pulled you down beside him and simply tucked you into his side. And later that night, your walking and swimming and the day’s warmth had coaxed you to sleep before you could question it.
And it wasn’t that you hadn’t found pleasure in each other in the recent weeks, since everything had happened. There had been a few nights where you’d managed to stay awake long enough to come together and find your releases. But the days were so packed-full with helping Eris become acclimated to his new role, with going back and forth with correspondence and helping the new manor be built, that you rarely had the energy to do much more than hold hands as you fell asleep.
It was on that third morning, over breakfast, that you finally roused the courage.
“Can I ask you something?” You said, watching as Lucien took a seat opposite you.
He paused curiously. “Anything, my love.”
“…is there a reason we haven’t…I mean…do you not want to…”
“Want to what?”
“Have sex.” Your cheeks flushed; not out of any embarrassment about the subject, but…it just seemed ludicrous, given all that you’d done with each other’s bodies before.
But again, Lucien paused — and blinked at you. Pure surprise crossed his face, as though the idea hadn’t even dawned on him. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to?”
You shrugged slowly, wishing you could take the words back. Realising, now, how silly they seemed. “I don’t know…we’ve been here a few days, now, and there have been moments where we’ve come close, but just…haven’t.”
“I want to bury myself inside you so badly that I keep feeling like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”
It was your turn to pause, then. “…Oh.”
Lucien’s eyes were fierce as they met yours. Heated. “I keep thinking about tasting you, and touching you, and fucking you hard enough to turn this place to rubble. So much that it’s sometimes hard to concentrate on anything else.”
Your mouth turned dry, wetness pooling between your legs. The mere filth of his words was enough to make you consider clearing this table with a swipe of your arm and crawling over to him.
You swallowed hard. “Then why haven’t you?”
And that heated, sinful darkness in his gaze immediately lightened and softened. He stared at you, offering his hand across the table. “I want it to be on your terms, Y/N. After everything…my father attacking you…I want you to decide when and where and how we do it. I’ll follow your lead.”
You quite possibly could have melted in your seat. So tender, this male — caring and loving. Your mate. Beron’s attack may not have gone beyond bruising and a damn deep head wound, but he’d still had his hands all over you. Had still violated you. 
Lucien just wanted to make sure you were ready to put that behind you, before you allowed yourself to be touched again. 
Gods, you loved him.
And gods, you were ready.
“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, you know.” You said. “My mate.”
His throat bobbed. “As are you.” His hand squeezed yours. “…How much do you know…about how the mating bond works?”
You chewed, tilting your head. “Not much,” you admitted. “My parents weren’t mated. I’ve heard and read different things. I know of the tradition where the female offers the male food.”
Something you hadn’t done yet — and something you absolutely planned to do. It hadn’t mattered to either of you that you technically had not officially accepted the bond yet. You were mates, in love, and you’d planned to do so when the time was right. When it was just the two of you.
Lucien nodded. “The offering of food is symbolic of an official acceptance of the bond. And when it’s accepted, it triggers a kind of…frenzy, I suppose.”
Your lips twitched. “As in…for a while, we’re not going to be able to think about much else than fucking each other senseless.”
He chuckled deeply. “Precisely.” His smile sobered a bit. “But I don’t expect it of you, you know. If you’re not ready for any of the official stuff, it makes no difference to me. We have the rest of our lives to make it official. And to fuck each other senseless.”
You did — an entire lifetime for it. But you were impatient, and hungry for your mate. You didn’t want to wait.
And you knew that probably showed in your eyes as you met his gaze.
You lifted just slightly out of your seat. Just enough to grasp the table and lean across it, your lips brushing against Lucien’s. He tried to capture you in a kiss, but you grinned at him, pinning a hand over his mouth.
“I’m going to cook for you tonight.” You said.
The promise behind the words was enough to make him shudder.
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Linden had taught you to cook years ago.
It was something you greatly enjoyed, but also something you unfortunately didn’t get to do often. Having always been surrounded by servants and staff and cooks, food was simply served to you. Something you rarely got to put much thought or care into.
But Linden — Linden had left his home and his family at such a young age that he’d had no choice but to become self-sufficient. And when you’d first taken a bite of a meal he’d cooked for you, you’d wolfed it down — and asked him to teach you how to do it.
You were thankful for that teaching, now, as delicious aromas filled the cottage. 
You’d barred Lucien from the kitchen, and it was through the window, whilst you cooked, that you watched him relaxing in the evening sunlight, lazily strumming his lute as the golden rays made his hair glint. You couldn’t stop your eyes snagging on his fingers, the expert way that they moved—
You shook your thoughts off. It was hard to concentrate — knowing how tonight would end. 
This was important. This was symbolic. You were Lucien’s, and he was yours — forever.
You put everything into that meal. Every emotion that had built up from the moment you’d stumbled upon Lucien Vanserra reading poems and sonnets beneath a tree. Every subtle glance and touch, every late-night thought. Every moment you’d wondered what he was doing, where he was — and then wondered why you cared so much. 
That first kiss at the masquerade ball. That first joining of your bodies in the gamekeeper’s cottage. When he’d gone after you on the hunt and found you a crying, shuddering mess, and he’d stayed with you in that cave. That night of the courtier’s meeting, when he’d become so blinded by jealousy that he’d taken you, mind and body and soul, until you’d forgotten that Azriel even existed. When he’d sat beside you in the forest and allowed you to cry, and had kissed your head — a rare tender moment, amongst all the passion. All those times he’d played with your braid, letting it fall between his fingers. When he’d finished a companionship with Tansy that had gone on for years, because he couldn’t bear to think of anyone but you. When he’d told you he was in love with you. When he’d decided to fight for you — for both of you.
Months and months and months of love and lust and heartache and longing and passion. You poured every bit of it into that meal. Your journey together.
Your mate. Your great, brilliant, kind mate. There would never be anybody but him. 
You plated up the food, brushed yourself down, and took a deep breath. Lucien looked up, his fingers stilling on the lute as you opened the door.
“It’s ready,” you said. And held out a hand.
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Your eyes tracked it all. Every. Last. Bite.
And even though the tradition was an ancient one, merely symbolic, you could have sworn that the air around the two of you changed. Like the bond was strengthening. Truly fusing your souls together, once and for all.
Lucien swallowed his last mouthful, setting his cutlery down. His eyes lifted to yours.
You could only focus on his mouth. That full, sensuous mouth. You wanted to kiss it, to feel it on your skin—
“How was it.” Your question was blunt, gravelly, a distant thought. His opinion of your food didn’t really matter to you right now; what mattered was him. All of him.
“Delicious.” He reached for his wine, and the mere movement had your chest heaving, your eyes watching his fingers wrap around the glass. He lifted it to his lips, draining the liquid. A few drops lingered on his mouth, painting it red.
You were going to fucking devour him.
“If you look at me like that,” he rasped, swallowing, “this will be over before it’s really begun.”
You met his gaze. Shuddered at the intensity there. “You are my mate.”
“Yes.”
“I am yours.”
“Always.”
Your legs shook as you rose from your seat. “Forever.”
That single word was what did it. What absolutely decimated the frail cord of restraint that was keeping Lucien controlled, civilised. 
An animalistic growl ripped from deep within his chest, and he was out of his chair and in front of you in seconds. 
You barely had a chance to draw breath as he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. And he was holding you, his lips slanting over yours in a hard, desperate kiss. 
You kissed him back feverishly, your arms snaking around his neck, your fingers twining within his hair. You could kiss him forever. Lose yourself in his lips, his taste—
“Mine.” The word slipped between your lips without any guidance from you. A rough, carnal claiming. You nipped Lucien’s lip, swallowing his grunt. “You’re mine.”
“Always.” He promised again, pulling you tighter against him. “I’m all yours.”
It was a wonder you didn’t climax from the declaration itself — the way it wracked through your body like a physical touch. You shuddered, rolling your hips against him, feeling his hard cock push up against the clothed centre of you. You felt his groan as it vibrated from his body, into yours. And then he was kissing you again, stumbling back with you towards the bedroom. 
You couldn’t touch enough of him at once. The hard press of his muscles against your body was divine, a song to the softness of your own body, and when he parted from you to place you on the bed, a whine escaped you at the loss of contact.
But that noise immediately faded into breathlessness as Lucien’s hungry gaze landed on you. And the intent you found waiting in his eyes…the sheer focus—
He unbuttoned his white shirt torturously slowly, first at the cuffs and then at the front. You couldn’t help staring at his fingers, thinking back to the times they’d touched you before, what they’d felt like. How you wanted them now, all over you. 
But he was methodical. Knew exactly what he intended to do, and in what order. And when that billowing shirt was tossed to the floor, you waited for his breeches to come off, too. But he didn’t touch them. He instead stepped closer to the bed.
Closer.
His knee nudged your legs apart, and you allowed them to fall open, the sundress you’d worn now feeling like nothing but an inconvenience. Your little, lacy underthings were soaked already; Lucien inhaled deeply, roughly, his eyes like dark, swimming chocolate.
“I hardly know where to begin,” he breathed, his tongue swiping over his lips. “I could spend hours just looking at you. My mate.”
“I don’t want you to look at me.” Your chest rose and fell deeply. “I want you to ravish me.”
A low growl was his answer, and he seemed utterly powerless to his needs as he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. His heavy breaths blew against your clothed cunt, and you hissed at the sensation.
“Lift your hips for me,” Lucien murmured, his attention fiercely on that sweet spot between your thighs that he wanted access to. 
You did just that, sucking in a gasp as his calloused hands skated up your legs, dipping beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers found the waistband of that frail, pathetic undergarment that barely concealed you, and he tugged it down, pressing kisses to your legs in its wake.
“I must think about tasting you,” your mate hummed, “every single hour of the day.”
You were trembling already, reaching for any sliver of bravado you could hold onto. “A slight exaggeration, perhaps.”
“Oh? Do you think so?”
“I do—”
Your words turned into a yelp as Lucien pushed your dress up and lowered his face to your damp heat. He inhaled slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Not an exaggeration at all, I assure you.”
And then his mouth was on you, and you were incapable of a response beyond the moan that was dragged from deep within you.
Amongst all the chaos and havoc of recent weeks, you’d almost forgotten how generous Lucien was with his mouth and teeth and tongue. He took his time exploring you, lapping you up like your wetness was in dwindling supply. And the noises of utter filth that left him…you sunk your fingers into his hair, your head falling back. 
“My beautiful fireling.” Lucien growled, his teeth grazing your clit. “I’ll never get used to this. To wanting you constantly.”
“Fuck, I want you too.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, your other hand clasping your breast. “Always.”
“Always is ours, my love.”
The way that he feasted on you…you could bask in the feeling forever. The strokes of his tongue and grazing of his teeth and the way he had you trembling before he slid a finger into you. He pumped that finger a few times, lapping at your clit with his tongue. And when a second finger joined the first, you were done for.
Your back arched off the bed as a stunning release stormed you. Over the ringing in your head, you could just make out Lucien’s words of encouragement, the way he continued to worship you, even as you came down, legs trembling. Words simply failed you, your arm draping over your face as you attempted to catch your breath, But as Lucien kissed your inner thighs and climbed onto the bed, caging your body in, you could already feel yourself ready again.
“I want you inside me,” you breathed, reaching for him and pulling him into a searing kiss. Your hand moved down his body, finding the tight, hard arousal that poked through his breeches. You growled in frustration at the intricate laces and buttons, “take these off.”
Lucien chuckled, his fingers going straight to those laces. “So impatient.”
“Such a delicious tease.”
“I think you’ll find…” he paused, long enough to move his hand up to your face. His fingers brushed the cut of your jaw before landing on your mouth, and with a little pressure, he was parting your lips. Pushing in those two fingers, still coated with your sex. “I think you’ll find that you’re the delicious one.”
Your eyes met his as you sucked your taste from his fingers, your tongue flicking the pads of them. And the way he watched you…the darkening of his eyes was so sinful that you knew — there would be no more teasing.
He didn’t even need to look as that one free hand loosened the rest of his buttons and laces. And then the front flap of his breeches was parting, revealing more skin that dipped down beneath the fabric, the smattering of hair in a perfect trail.
Too much…the craving him was almost too much. Your eyes followed that trail of hair, and it was with utterly ravenous desperation that you reached out to shimmy his breeches the rest of the way down.
At the sight of his cock springing free, you moaned.
He was hard. So ready for you, it looked like it could teeter on the edge of pain. Lucien swallowed, finally removing his fingers from your mouth as you reached out and brushed your fingertips against the velvety skin of his cock.
He hissed between his teeth at the contact, his hips jerking. Your lips twitched into a smile as you wrapped your hand around his length and pumped him. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Fuck—stop.” He gasped, staying your hand by grasping your wrist in his own. “I need to be inside you. We—we fall off the edge together.”
A promise that sounded so good, you wanted to devour it. You stopped your movements, pausing to mop a bead of moisture from the head with your thumb. Which you then lifted to your mouth and sucked.
Lucien swore, so deep it was almost indiscernible. And then he was positioning himself between your legs. Pulling your dress the rest of the way off until the two of you were completely bare with each other. 
The head of his cock brushed your entrance, drawing a gasp from you. But he was pausing over you. Staring down at you.
Your chest heaved as you asked, breathlessly, “what is it?”
Both of Lucien’s hands slid to yours, your fingers immediately slotting together. He pinned your arms above your head, staring down at you. “I’m just happy.” He murmured earnestly, eyes tracing every inch of your face. “We get to do this for the rest of our lives. We get to have each other. Forever. I didn’t…I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this.”
The words were so raw that you felt them right to your very soul. You pushed up, pressing your lips, your forehead, to his. “We deserve this happiness, Lucien.”
“Yes.” He breathed. The head of his cock pushed into you just slightly.
“We deserve,” you continued, biting your lip at the sensation, “to live a long, happy life — together. You and me.”
Those words seemed to utterly destroy whatever was holding him back. He groaned, sliding further into you, your slick walls welcoming the friction. 
“You and me.” He echoed. And then he thrust.
Your eyes were fully locked on one another’s as he pushed in to the hilt, a gasped breath leaving both of you. And then he withdrew. Pushed in again. Leaned down to kiss you.
Those first few thrusts were slow, languid, a battle of breaths and kissing and your bodies moving together. Every bit of you touched every bit of him in any way you could, and just the feeling of having him there…pressed against you. Real. Safe. Happy—
You didn’t realise tears had escaped you until you were choking out a moan that mingled with a sob. Lucien paused to pull back and read your face, his lips parted—
“Don’t stop.” You gasped, not shielding your emotions one bit. “Don’t stop.”
“I love you.” He leaned down, kissed one tear away. Another. “My fireling. My mate.”
You were sure your body shuddered at the words — or maybe it was his. Or both of you. All thoughts became lost in the sensation of your bodies and souls being joined, of Lucien fucking you and loving you. Worshipping you. He was yours and you were his.
And when the pace quickened, became more frenzied…when you were clawing at each other’s skin and kissing with teeth and tongue and breathing the most raw words of sheer pleasure onto each other’s mouths, it dawned on you only then — that the worst was over. 
The best was yet to come.
It was as though you’d sent that thought straight to Lucien’s mind, coursing through his body, as you felt him shudder against your hands. He threw his head back, his hair a brilliant flash of colour that reminded you of daylight. That there would be many days ahead of you.
And when you dragged your nails down his back, grabbing at the skin of his ass and encouraging his hard thrusts into you, hitting a spot so deep inside you…white hot pleasure splintered through you.
You cried out as release hit you at full-force. Lucien’s hips faltered, his thrusts stuttering as you clenched around him.
“Come.” You breathed, trembling. “Come for me.”
He did just that.
There weren’t any words to describe the roar that broke through him as he stilled and spilled every drop of himself inside you. It was like no other sound you’d heard from him before. One not only of pleasure, but of raw, carnal love and passion.
You moaned through every jerk and twitch of his cock inside you, and Lucien swallowed every noise with kisses and whispered I love yous, over and over.
I love you.
I love you.
My fireling, my mate, I love you.
You would never tire of hearing it.
Nor of feeling it.
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