#but they had to go ahead and make the shiny even more yellow just to match the pink version so perfectly~

[klavery]

based on that official valentines day campaign design from a number of years ago💟

[bump1nthen1ght]

Made For Love (Incubus x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Sex worker!Incubus x GN!Reader

Warnings: Explicit content ahead! (18+ ONLY), Loss of Virginity, Spanking, Unsafe Sex (wrap it before you tap it folks)

Word Count: 2098 words

Summary: Sick and tired of waiting, you decide you’re ready to finally lose your virginity. Lucky for you, a friend of yours has a tantalizing suggestion on how to do so…

A/N: Ok so this was ORIGINALLY supposed to be a short drabble ( <1000 words) for Kinktober, but as y’all can tell I went into a writing frenzy and it became a full fic. Please forgive any typos, as the horniest muse ever possessed me as I typed and edited this and I’m too impatient not to post it lol. Hope y’all enjoy!

(P.S. Sex Work is Work and all sex workers deserve to be treated with respect. Do not necessarily take this fic as a completely accurate depiction of how sex work is performed. Nevertheless, enjoy some sweetness)

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

The motel room you find yourself in is surpisingly homely. The flickering overheads have been turned off and replaced by soft lavender fairy lights strung around the bed frame. Cheap and stiff blankets have been neatly folded and put away in the closet, the bed now decorated with a big fluffy duvet and several plush pillows. Some candles have been lit and placed on the nearby desk.

“It's Joranez, right? Want to make sure I’m saying that correctly.”

“That’s right, but you can call me Jora, darling.” He winks, taking hold of both your hands, holding them to his chest. The action isn’t very intimate, but it can’t help but send a hot blush across your face. Jora is stunningly attractive, his silken hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His purple skin is flawless, shiny just like his horns, which curl and twist upwards. His smile is charming, sharp canines seeming so friendly despite everything.

“Is this okay?” Jora whispers, rubbing a thumb across the back of your palm. You nod, letting your fingers unfurl and touch the bare skin of his chest. “Do you remember the safe words, the ones in the email?”

“Y- yes. Lime for go, strawberry for stop.” You take a deep breath. “A-and banana for slow down.”

A clawed hand runs across your cheek, goosebumps running down yiur heck as Jora draws even closer. His breath brushes across your face, his yellow eyes glowing in the low light. Even though he’s a stranger, you can’t help but feel very safe.

“Good pet. Now, shall we get started?”

—

Jora had been recommended to you by a mutual friend, one of your best friends actually; Rory. She worked nights at a sex hotline and Jora often took shifts there during the drier months of the year. From what she had told you he was highly requested and had great reviews, known for perfectly crafting whatever mood or scenario his customers wanted. You had asked if it would be weird, sleeping with someone she knows so personally, but Rory had quickly quieted your fears. If anything it was better, as she knew you’d be in great hands and she was often quite protective.

So Rory gave you his work number and you scheduled the appointment to lose your virginity.

Given how you’re feeling right now, you think you made the right decision.

“You make such beautiful noises, dear.” Jora whispers in your ear, his long tongue licking up your trembling neck. “I’d love to hear more.”

He gets his wish, a moany breath leaving as he scissors his fingers inside of you, pads pressing hard on your outer walls. He chuckles, a warm sound that only makes your body hotter.

How easily he was able to undo you. You lay naked in his lap, legs spread wide and chest heaving with each breath. Sweat drips down your collarbone and your skin feels on fire, every soft touch and caress leaving tingles across your body. The duvet provides just enough purchase for you to dig your fingers into, still too shy to yank on Jora’s open robe.

The pleasant ache as Jora stretches you open on his finger was far better than you imagined, probably far better than some random hookup would have provided you. Starting with one, now two, he’s somehow slowly unraveled your senses. Now you sit as a putty ball of pleasure in his lap, all for him to treat.

Guess I’m a sub. You joke in your head, though you already had a suspicion before this. Or maybe Jora is just such a master of control that anyone falls to their knees in front of him. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“How about three?” Jora whispers in your ear, waiting for your timid nod before sinking a third finger inside you. He splays them out, stretching out your walls before resuming to thrust. Black and white spots speckle behind your eyelids, that burn in your gut only growing hotter. “So good pet, you’re doing fantastic.” Jora plants a soft peck on your temple, his free hand rubbing affectionate circles into your hips. Said hips jerk and spasm on his digits, desperate for more.

“I t-think…” You whimper, somehow still shy as this incubus is literally inside of you. “I think I’m ready for you c-cock.”

“Oh, is that so?” Jora teases, flexing his fingers again. “I think so too, lovely.”

Jora is slow and methodical as he pulls his fingers out of you, gently coaxing your hips to flip you around. Your shaky legs straddle his lap, Jora giving another gentle kiss to your lips. He grinds against you, getting a squeak and a shiver.

Jora begins to sit up, pushing you onto your back and adjusting for missionary position, but you stop him with hand to his chest.

“Actually, could we do Doggy style?” You request, somehow not stuttering your way through it.

Jora’s eyes widen, but its accompanied by a delighted smirk.

“Of course.”

With another gentle press to your hips, Jora flips you onto your stomach. A strong palm smoothes down your lower back, arching it into his hips as he adjusts himself. You can hear the sound of the lube bottle as Jora gets more, rubbing it over your entrance. A heated presence presses up against your hole, throbbing and slick. Even without seeing it, you can tell Jora is quite well endowed.

“Tell me if it hurts to much, okay dearie?”

You give a simple “uh-huh.”, trying to decide if you want to shove your face in the covers or stare into the void of the motel room.

Your brain decides for you, biting your lip and clenching your eyes when Jora finally begins to slide in you.

It doesn’t hurt, thank goodness, but it is a little…unusual. It’s a fullness where you didn’t even realize there was emptiness. As Jora goes further, you get the stretch in places you've never reached before, not with fingers or even a dildo. The unexplored is extra sensitive, your hips spasming as Jora eventually bottoms out inside you. He swivels his hips, the head of his cock brushing against something that feels amazing.

A clawed hand rubs your scalp, reaching down to pat your cheek. You can feel Jora’s body heat as he leans his chest closer, his robe rolled down his shoulders to expose his bare skin. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You mutter, digging your face half into the covers. The noises bubbling in your throat are so whiny, so debauched, you can’t help but try to tamp them down. “You can m-move. Slowly.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jora sits up, grabbing gently onto the fat of your hips. The bed shifts as he pulls out halfway, before gently thrusting upward. You gasp, a strange sensation shooting up your stomach. Jora chuckles, pulling back slowly again. That emptiness feels wrong now, it feels incomplete.

“Faster, p-please.”

Jora must nod, though you didn't see it. His fingers dig into your sides, not enough to even leave a mark, and he begins humping in earnest.

Those noises you tried to suppress become impossibly loud, even in shaky breaths and moans. Bed springs squeak underneath you, the slap of Jora’s hips against yours sending a hot sensation down your legs. It's so lewd, but it feels so right.

“You feel amazing.” Jora moans. “Such a tight hole, all for me.” Jora speeds up a bit, met with your eager hips throwing backwards on his cock. “And a pretty face on top.”

All you can do is bite your lip, feeling a hit blush as Jora lavishes you with compliments. His pelvis pounds against your ass, toned muscle meeting the plush flesh. Jora begins to fondle the fat, giving it a light pat, holding back for your sake.

“Please slap my ass.” You whine, getting an extra eager thrust from Jora in response. You can’t see it, but you’re sure he’s smirking.

“You’re wish is my command.”

Jora’s palm meets the skin with a resounding slap, enough to jiggle your cheeks and surely to leave a mark, but you doubt it’s as hard as he can go.

“H-harder, please.”

Jora hums, rubbing the spot he just hit.

“Surprisingly naughty, aren’t you?” This time Jora reels back his hand and gives you a proper spank, enough to send your lower half forward. You weren’t quite sure what to expect, but you didn’t realize how good the stinging could feel. “I love it, you want some more?” Jora gyrates his hips, pressing his cockhead to the very deepest parts of you.

“Yes, yes!” You barely reocgnize your voice, keening and desperate. The moans as Jora slaps your ass again are depraved, downright erotic. He switches hands and slaps your other ass cheek, taking a moment to squeeze and fondle the fat afterwards. He begins to alternate his slaps, using the other hand to hold onto your hips and yank you back onto his cock. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he’s picked up the pace, each thrust reaching your guts at a quick speed. You can hear the slap of Jora’s balls as they hit your underside.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Jora purrs, voice so composed you wouldn’t even realize’s he’s blowing your back out. “Don’t you want to see yourself?”

Jora must see your brows furrow, cause he leans down and tilts your jaw forward. “Look up, dear.”

Opening your hazy eyes, you notice a full-length mirror in front of you both. It hadn’t been there before, or so your cock-drunk mind remembers, and you wonder if Jora had moved it in place with some minor magic. He was an incubus, after all.

But those thoughts come second to seeing how unraveled your look. Your face is flushed, sweat beading on your forehead. Your back is so arched you can see the way your ass jiggles with every thrust. Not to mention Jora, whose pony is slowly coming undone, looking like a literal Adonis. His sultry gaze burns in to you, toned chest and abs flexing with his humps. He had been so sweet at the beginning, but it seems your naughtiness has drawn out his mischievous side; He wears a big smirk, biting his lip and admiring the naughty picture you make in the mirror.

“See? Just as I told you-” Jora gives a particularly hard thrust and stars shoot across your vision, “-gorgeous.”

Your entire lower half feels lit up, a faint buzz going all the way down to your toes as your abdomen grows tighter and tighter. It’s so similar yet so different from when you’ve masturbated before. The coming climax feels hotter, more explosive, like a high you’ve only dreamed about.

Jora can tell, either with his specially-tuned senses or by the way your hole clenches. “Close, love?”

All you can do is nod, tongue lolled out with a mind too far gone. You’re thankful Jora had the wherewithall to ask where you’d like him to come at the start, as you have no way of giving an answer now.

“That's right, cum for me. I want to see you.”

That’s all it takes, the knot splitting in an instant as you come with Jora’s cock deep inside you. You can see him clench his eyes shut as your hole milks him, just pulling out in time to cum all over your back.

The next few minutes are a bit hazy. Your legs had collapsed under you, your brain thoroughly cock drunk and trying to reboot. Jora, ever the professional, quickly recuperated. He rubbed soft circles into your lower back, leaning over to get some cleaning wipes. You vaguely remember him flipping you onto your back, tilting your chin up and giving you some water. The sensation of the back of his knuckles, brushing along the side of your face comes to mind as you sipped.

“Good dearie.” Jora gives you a peck in the cheek. “You did so well, love. I’m happy I was able to share this with you.”

Jora is sweet and leta you take plenty of time to rest and come back to yourself, giving you another kiss and his card on your way out.

“If you ever want to be naughty again, love.”

You walked out with a tired yet enthusiastic pep in your step.

You definitely owe Rory one.

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

your hands have always held their own

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,063 | read on AO3

Heist!Mark finally asks his partner in crime out on that date.

It was early evening and you and your heist partner sat nearly shoulder to shoulder in your shared living room. The sun hung low, just barely brushing its rays against the clouds, tinging their edges amber and yellow.

Recently, there had been a lot more of these calm afternoons where you would sit together, discussing everything and nothing, perhaps watching TV or whatever videos took both your fancy; sometimes you simply watched the sky until you felt sleepy. Occasionally one of his hands might come up to play idly with your hair (a more affectionate gesture than either of you had ever previously initiated, but you didn't really mind, and neither of you mentioned it).

'This next heist…’ he started, ‘it's supposed to set us up, pretty much for life. And it got me thinking—'

'That's dangerous,' you interrupted.

'Yeah, maybe for you,' he quipped back, eyebrows raised mockingly, but there was no malice in his voice.

'Anyway,' he continued, voice softening. 'I was thinking about the future and stuff. Like, what do we do after this? And as nice as it would be to be able to relax and just enjoy the rest of our lives without worrying about the next spot to rob, I think I would kind of miss doing these jobs with you.'

That got your full attention. He wasn't quite meeting your eyes — instead, a loose strand on his clothes was apparently very interesting — but something about his words and the gentle sincerity with which he'd spoken them took you a little off-guard.

‘...I hadn't really thought much about it. About what happens after.’ And it was true, you hadn't; nothing past the first few wild, exciting dreams that sprung to mind when reading the amount of money the pair of you were being offered for this particular artefact. No real, solid plans.

‘I think I'd miss it too,’ you continued quietly. ‘But I mean, who's to say we can't do a couple more every once in a while, just for the fun of it, y'know? We don't even have to go after anything that valuable. More like just… for old times’ sake.’ You caught his gaze and he smiled, a little fond and a little hopeful, dark eyes twinkling.

‘Yeah, cool… So, uhm,’ he averted his gaze again and you couldn't help but find his uncharacteristic hesitance and bashfulness adorable, wondering what was on his mind that was making him act this awkward.

‘So I was wondering, once this heist is over, if you'd maybe wanna go out sometime?’

‘Sure, is that it?’ you question, oblivious. (Or maybe not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Surely there's no way he meant it like that.)

Your crime partner’s head perked up, eyes wide and looking directly into yours, as if searching for something.

‘Really?’

‘Umm, yeah?’ you say, incredulous. ‘What's got you so nervous? And… surprised? We go out together all the time.’

‘No, buddy, you don't get it…’ he said, sat looking a little like a kicked puppy. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke your heart and instantly made you regret your words.

His hands returned to fidgeting and oh, you wanted to take those hands in yours and ease the nerves from his palms, thread his fingers through your own, press your lips to his knuckles.

Mark sighed. One of his hands came to rest on his knee while the other carded through his hair. You found yourself wanting to do the same.

‘Listen…’ he began again, eyes downcast while his hand came to rest in his lap. ‘We've been friends for what feels like ages now, working together for even longer. I know we butt heads at times, I can be an idiot and you can get on my nerves but-’ Finally his eyes met yours, and the affection in them made your breath catch in your throat.

The sun was setting by now, casting a gorgeous orange glow through the room and over his features. It made his eyes appear almost golden, and it suddenly occurred to you that no shiny trinket you could steal could ever possibly be worth more than the look those eyes were giving you in this moment. You internally cringed at the thought, but you couldn't deny it was true.

‘You're really important to me,’ he said earnestly. ‘I don't always agree with you but I always trust your judgement. I probably trust you more than anyone else, to be honest. You're my best friend, and maybe I'm wrong, but I think there could be something else here? And I wanna try being more? If that's okay with you.’

‘You mean-’

‘Yeah.’ He took your hand, said your name, foregoing any of his nicknames for you. ‘I love you — I always have, as a friend, but I think I have feelings for you. So, if you reciprocate even a little, let me take you out. On a real date. And if things don't work out,’ (you didn't miss the small flicker of something sad as he added that part) ‘well, we can still work together. And we'll still be friends, right?’ he asked hopefully.

You could feel your heart thrumming wildly, from his words, the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his hand to yours.

You took his other hand, the one still atop his knee, and replied softly: ‘I'd really love that, actually. To go on a date with you, I mean.’

The smile he gave you was genuine, unlike the typical cocky. It was wide and crinkled the skin beneath his eyes. You briefly wondered whether he could feel your racing pulse through your intertwined hands.

‘Then it's agreed. After the heist.’

‘After the heist,’ you promised.

Inevitably, you would run into problems and possibly danger in your next heist, as you usually did, but you trusted Mark, and you knew you could count on him when push came to shove. You knew that you would follow him anywhere, and the two of you had a better chance of conquering any obstacles you faced if you were together, as you always had.

The sun dipped beneath the clouds, the room was warm, and things felt comfortably the same and yet like this was a turning point for the pair of you.

You were sure this heist would be one to remember.

[thespianinthebackcorner]

Okay everyone loves a good catboy/girl au. As do I. There's something cute about seeing your blorbo get kitty ears and their friends teasing them.

But you don't have to stick with cats! There's obviously a lot more animals around so why not use them? Here, have a list of ideas I've been coming up with over the past six hours

Bee au. Blorbo gets black or yellow streaks in their hair, antennae, wings. They have to try and stop themselves from getting nervous or else everyone will hear the humming. Bonus points if they enjoy someone playing with their hair since bees like it when they're regularly groomed. Bees are also obsessed with cleanliness, if you want to go even deeper into it.

Bird au! Learning to use and handle wings, especially with the huge wingspan that comes with human size. Caring for feathers, picking up fallen ones, moulting season. Species-specific things like female nightingales being mute or barn owls sticking with one partner for life- even penguins proposing with pebbles, although I've never seen a penguin au 😂 if you're really feeling murderous, then go Australian Magpie and watch the carnage happen as someone aggravates a sensitive blorbo.

Standard mermaid AUs are great (please write more) but what about other marine animals too? Take inspiration from that one Monster High movie and go for an octopus or eel aus, or even just using a highly distinctive fish (anglerfish, for example).

If you're gonna do cat or dog anyway, then try something with one of the big ones! Lion au blorbo getting thicker hair, leopard au with the soft, thick tails and ears.

Foxes! In some fandoms this is common but in others it's not. Fennec foxes with their huge ears, red foxes with their bright colours. Sensitive hearing, a penchant for trouble and an instinct for digging holes and putting things they like in them... It's a chaos recipe, if you will.

Dragons! Different types of dragons with mystical powers. Blorbo having to lean backwards all the time because of the weight of wings and a tail suddenly being added to their pack. Scales growing over injuries, people coming to try and get a valuable dragon's scale. Hoarding shiny things, making a nest out of blankets.

Less-talked about mythical creatures or ones from certain cultures! Go deep diving through mythology from different places and see what you can find. Who knows.

If there's a character associated with a particular animal, feels easy but do it! Go through and see if there's any fanfics already with that idea, and take inspiration from them if you need to! If it's not that popular of a character, maybe you'll be the lucky one to start it off.

If there's other fictional animals or species in your fandom, go ahead and use those! They'll be guaranteed to be an interesting mix, and you'll learn more about your fandom as a result through the research.

Go off everyone, I've had bee au in my head for a while and wanted to make a list of unconventional AUs I'd like to see more of. This is a blanket permission to use any of the prompts/ideas here (and repost to Pinterest if you really want to, but ONLY if you include my username. I get a lot of old Tumblr-post writing ideas from there so I don't mind my ideas being shared.)

Go forth and write your blorbos! Meanwhile I'll be catching up with the list of fics I still need to write... sorry bee au you're not getting consigned to the page 🥲

[pacificwaternymph]

@amostfoolishgold this really got away from me. Anyway, the confession scene as promised lmao.

-

"Let's go for a walk."

The suggestion came out of nowhere. Pyrite looked over at Delilah, who was staring resolutely out the window. The sun was just starting to dip down towards the horizon, the edges of the sky just starting to turn yellow. It would set soon.

"What?" Pyrite asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"Let's go for a walk," Delilah repeated, turning around to face her friend. The sunlight hit the side of her face, bathing her in a golden glow. Pyrite's heart jumped to her throat. "Before the sun goes down."

Butterflies exploded in Pyrite's stomach at the way she said it, but she did her best to clamp down on it lest she give something away. Delilah stared at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. She swallowed.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Delilah shrugged and grinned. "We've been inside all day. Some fresh air would be good for us." Pyrite remained silent, which Delilah apparently took for hesitation. "We don't have to go far. Let's just walk through the woods for a bit."

"I don't know, D. It's getting late, we might not make it back in time." Not that the dark ever bothered Pyrite. It was more the mobs she was worried about. Delilah frowned, and then her eyes grew wide and shiny, staring into Pyrite's soul. She clasped her hands together.

"...Please?"

Pyrite caved immediately.

"Yeah, okay. Sure." She sighed, and smiled fondly. "Let's go."

~

The woods were quiet. Hardly a sound around them except for the occasional bird and the leaves crunching underfoot. It was mid-autumn, and the forest floor was covered in them. Brilliant oranges and reds and yellows surrounded the two witches as they wound through the trees aimlessly.

Pyrite had donned a coat to keep out the evening chill, but Delilah acted as though she weren't affected by it at all. She kept running up ahead, darting in and out of view, laughing like a child all the while. Pyrite giggled along with her, giving chase through the familiar forest in an attempt to keep up.

Pyrite blinked, and suddenly Delilah was gone. She glanced around to see where the other hand disappeared to, narrowing her eyes at the trees suspiciously.

There was a loud crunch from behind her, and Pyrite whirled around just in time to see Delilah launch herself at her with an armful of leaves.

Delilah crashed into Pyrite, throwing her arms over her shoulders to stuff the leaves down the back of Pyrite's shirt. Pyrite let out an indignant "Hey!" as Delilah's shoulders shook from how hard she was laughing and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Their faces were just inches apart. This close, Pyrite could pick out every individual freckle on Delilah's face, and the tiny golden slivers hidden in her eyes.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, loud enough that she was sure Delilah could hear it.

Delilah pulled back, still snickering, and immediately saddled up to Pyrite's side, slipping her hand into the other witch's. Pyrite breathed in sharply, and did her best not to tense at Delilah's closeness. She had done so well keeping this feeling to herself. She would not ruin it now.

"Py?" Delilah asked, resting her head on Pyrite's shoulder. Pyrite swallowed.

"Yeah, D?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Pyrite froze. Her heart plummeted into her stomach and it suddenly seemed much colder than it had been just a few seconds ago. She glanced from side to side, as though there were anyone else Delilah could possibly be talking to.

"What... what do you mean?" She asked, her voice sounding shaky even to her own ears. Delilah frowned, and a foreign yet familiar tranquility settled over Pyrite's heart after a moment, easing her nerves. The feeling that she was about to vomit settled into something more calm.

Glancing down, she could see Delilah's eyes were glowing slightly.

"Can we skip that? The whole... pretending you don't know what I'm talking about part? You know that never works with me." The empathic witch's voice was soft, and her eyes were hooded. They flicked down to Pyrite's lips and then back up. Her face warmed.

"And if I told you I really didn't know what you were talking about?"

"I'd call you a liar. I can feel your reactions to the things I'm saying, you know." Pyrite laughed nervously, but remained resolutely quiet. Delilah huffed, and leaned in even closer, speaking so quietly it was almost inaudible. "Pyrite, I can feel your reactions."

What...?

Oh.

Oh.

Pyrite shoved herself away from Delilah, and covered her face with her hands, mortified.

"Py-"

"I'm an idiot," she moaned.

"You're not an idiot-"

"You knew. This whole time you knew." Pyrite peaked out from between her fingers to glare at Delilah. Delilah winced, but nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to see if you would confess first," Delilah said, taking a step forward. "On your own terms. I didn't want to force you to admit it if you weren't ready."

"Oh- you-" Pyrite screamed into her hands. She tipped her head back and dragged her hands down her face. "I can't believe this."

Delilah snorted. "Did you seriously never put it together?" She sounded like she was on the verge of losing it.

"Well I assumed that if my best friend knew I was in love with her then she'd say something."

Delilah cackled, doubling over. Pyrite threw her hands up in despair.

"It- it's alright," Delilah managed to get out in between gasps for air. "I- me too, okay?"

That made Pyrite pause and look back down at Delilah, who was still struggling to pull herself back together. "What?"

"I'm in love with you too. I have been for... a while at this point." Delilah's face flushed a deep red, and a hand came up to start playing with the heart pendant around her neck. "I just... didn't know if I should tell you. What with... well, you know how people are about empathic witches."

"But- you know that I've never had a problem with that. Why..."

Delilah just sighed, and started walking towards Pyrite. "I don't know, Py. Old habits just die hard sometimes, okay?" She placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now can we please finish our walk?"

"No, stop. You- you can't do that! You can't just drop that on me and then move on like I haven't been pining over you for the past two months for nothing!" Pyrite stamped her foot, even realizing how childish it made her look. Delilah giggled.

"Then we'll talk about it." She pressed a kiss to Pyrite's cheek, making her brain short circuit and her body melt into the touch. "Later. When we aren't in danger of being caught outside, at night, in the cold, when neither of us have any armor on."

"R-right." Pyrite stuttered, taking in a shuttery breath. Delilah tilted her head to the side, the picture of innocence.

"Are you alright, my dear?" She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Fine!" Pyrite squeaked, turning away so that she didn't have to look at Delilah anymore when she was looking at her like... like that.

"Good." Delilah grabbed onto her hand, and pulled her away.

[little-shadows-story]

Little Shadows | Tale 1 – "Flowers"

Content Warning: Body horror, depictions of death

Listen to the audio version here (ESP with ENG subs)

The sunshine rays that filtered through the big windows warmed the place inside, but they couldn't compare to the warmth in the woman's chest caused by a new love. The flower shop had a spectacular scent all year round that she enjoyed every day and taking care of the flowers, though it was a constant and laborious work, was worth it if it meant keep being the favorite supplier for "her".

The florist had met her several years ago, when she became her favorite flower supplier for the events she organized as work, and after a series of talks, outings for coffee and dinners together, spring had finally come. Until that point, their relationship was nothing but friendship, but she couldn't take the step ahead she wanted. The florist only had her shop, how could she get close to someone like her, that directed a business, that was searched with months in anticipation for people to take charge of their events? The difference she felt between both was abysmal.

Like an omen of her future, that season the red roses weren't blooming. On the contrary, the yellow ones shined their petals like the Sun. She made an arrangement with them and added some yellow tulips and dondiegos. Even though the arrangement was beautiful, she didn't feel better. She sold it for barely thirty pesos.

Everything changed the day she found that shadow. It appeared suddenly in the middle of the flower shop's floor, like an illusion created by the mix in the lights from the Sun and the lamps in the shop. But when she touched it, when she took it between her fingers, she knew it was real. The shadow danced in the palm of her hand, unable to decide which shape to take. When she caressed it, the florist felt a peculiar vigor expanding trough all her body.

She felt more awake, stronger, and more cheerful, like a flower that stands up with water dew after a hot summer day. Just as she was thinking that, from her hand sprouted a flower. She got scared at first, but curiosity and fascination were stronger than fear. With her other hand, she pulled the plant and looked at it carefully. It exceeded the delicacy and symmetry of the ones she had in her shop. She'd never seen one more beautiful and shinning than that one, and when she ventured turning off the lights, she discovered it was actually producing light.

She created more flowers from her hand: orange blossoms, marigolds, altheas. Every time a new one appeared she could feel a tickle in the other one, where she was holding the little shadow. It didn’t matter what she created after, every flower that her hands made shone in darkness in an ethereal way. The florist didn't waste time, and immediately bottled herself in the job of creating arrangements with those flowers. Her flowers, unique for having natural luminescence, soon caught the attention of a lot of clients. Her tulips lasted more than any other. There wasn't comparison for her amaryllis. The scent of her lavender was matchless. And the brightness that the laurels produced at night confused even the sunflowers.

When the clients came, money came with them, too. She expanded her business once, twice, three times, and with it, the size of her commissions increased as well. The woman she adored was happy for her, and also because her own business had bloomed thanks to the shiny flower arrangements it offered.

But as her profits increased, their time together decreased. She stopped going for coffee with the florist, or to meet for dinner. Instead, the phone calls became more frequent, and it always started or ended with talks about work. The florist felt her love getting away, and believing it wasn't enough yet, she gave herself to her work. With just a little bit more effort she thought she'd be ready to confess to her. She just needed to sell more, gain more, make more. The flowers in her hand weren't enough anymore, so she started to produce them in her arm too. The she continued with the other. She started to notice that it hurt when she popped the plants from her skin, something that'd never happened before, but she ignored it. Don't they say that love hurts?

The flowers kept growing until they reached her shoulders, and little by little they advanced to her neck. The little shadow, that tickled her hard every time they appeared, one day started to tremble. It was the same day she found flowers on her back that she hadn't made. She tried to pull them off, but it was useless. Every time she got rid of one, two more sprouted. She tried doing it faster to not leave them time to come out, but when she did, three more appeared. Besides, the pain got stronger with each one she pulled, going through her muscles, and reaching her spine. If only she could use those flowers for her job it wouldn't have been that bad, but they withered every time they stop being in contact with her skin.

Then, they started to hurt even without pulling them. She could feel the roots going under her skin and extending like animals running through her body. She didn't notice the moment flowers started to appear from her hands and arms too. She pulled them when she saw them, but the pain was so intense that she wanted to cut her limb. She felt scared, and with every chill a new group of flowers sprouted from her.

She was in her flower shop, and tried to run outside to call for help, but tripped and fell. She noticed with fear that roots grew from her legs and pierced the floor, chaining her to the interior of her workplace. She opened her mouth to try screaming, but from her cheek appeared more flowers that went through her mouth with their roots, piercing her tongue and creating from it beautiful daffodils.

More and more flowers bloomed from her whole body, going through her clothes, her nails and her eyelids. As if they have heard her wish of making more, one after another appeared. As if answering the flowers, the little shadow trembled in an improvised dance. On the floor, the florist tried to creep, but was useless. From her arms and sides grew roots that, alongside the ones from her legs, trapped her in place. New flower buds didn't stop appearing, and they found their home on her skin, her muscles, her bones, and finally, they reached the organs.

Everything hurt... and suddenly, the pain went away. When it did, the shadow stopped moving.

By the time afternoon came, the phone was ringing nonstop with tens of missed calls and unread messages. They had knocked the door another dozen times, but the visitors left after receiving no answer. The interior of the flower shop was deserted, only inhabited by the unfinished arrangements and the enormous bush in the middle of the place from where it came the sweet scent of hundreds of flowers with the touch of a unique hydrangea, the last one of all the flowers to bloom.

No one was there to see the dark figure that suddenly appeared, which bended to pick up the little shadow, and disappeared as fast as it came. No one noticed how it had stopped, just a few seconds, to admire the flowers from the bush before that.

From the light that radiated from them appeared wonderful shadows.

******

Start (You're here!) / Next

[alliebock]

Chapter 1

Katie

I strode up the stone pathway to the white doors of the park pavilion. Nerves shook my body causing my palms to be clammy, my heart pounded, and my body to sweat more than normal. Breathe, Katie. You’ve got this. I closed my eyes for a second to steel my nerves. Then, I pushed open the doors with a loud screech. Swarms of women scurried around the large open room. No one noticed me as I took another step inside. A large breath escaped as I scanned the room for the one person I was looking for.

“Katie, you finally made it!” The bride-to-be rushed at me from the center of the room.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch us. My anxiety skyrocketed, making my chest hurt. I rubbed at my sternum as I took in another breath. They paused for a moment before resuming their decorating.

“Um, I just got here.”

The bride-to-be, Annie, wrapped me into a big hug and bounced up and down.

“I’m getting married!” She screeched.

I winced at the pitch, but I couldn’t help smiling at the other woman. Her shiny black hair bounced around her shoulders. It contrasted nicely with her ivory lace dress and faded cowboy boots.

“I’m just so glad you are here,” she whispered in my ear, “Come on.”

She took my hand and led me to the far corner. She opened a small door and shoved me into a dark closet. The door shut softly behind her with a click. The dust tickled my nose as the moldy smell suffocated me.

“What are we doing in here?” A sneeze erupted from my nose.

I covered my mouth and nose with my hand. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Cobwebs suspended in the corners. A couple of discarded folding chairs leaned against the back wall. A large yellow spider dropped from the ceiling and hung inches above her head as she leaned close to me.

“I need your help.” Her blue eyes grew wide as they searched my face.

“OK.” Where is she going with this? Is that spider going to drop on to her head?

“Katie, pay attention.”

“Sorry, there’s a big spider up there.”

“Don’t worry about the spider. I need your help.”

“You’ve said that.”

“My wedding photographer is in the hospital.”

“Oh no.” I gasped, inhaling a breath of dust. Coughing. “Is everything alright?"

"Her baby was born a preemie. They are both still in the hospital. I know that this is a lot to ask, but you’re the only one that can help me.” Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. “Can you, please, take pictures of the wedding? For me?”

I backed up until my back hit the wall. A shower of dust fell onto my shoulders. The large yellow spider scuttled back up her silk to hide in the rafters.

“Um, doesn’t she have a backup?” I coughed and sputtered in the dust.

“It was supposed to be her partner but she got thrown from a horse and broke a leg. I need you to do it.”

I glanced around but there was no way out. My palms started to sweat, again.

“But I only do landscape and nature photography.” Panic rose in my chest.

“Please.” She clasped my hands in hers.

“But photographing people is hard. They don’t listen to me.” My hands shook. “The lighting has to be perfect. Everyone needs to be looking at the camera.” My thoughts jumped ahead and I got lost in them for a minute. “Plus, it’s a wedding. I’ve never done a wedding before!”

“But you do such beautiful work. How hard would it be to add people to your landscapes?”

How hard indeed? “People” My voice sounded weak to my ears. My mind trudged like it was stuck in fudge. “It’s not really in my wheelhouse. Or even within a hundred miles.”

“Please, say you’ll do it for me? It’s my wedding, I need this to be perfect.”

I nodded. That didn’t make me feel any better. But this was a big deal for Annie. And she had always been a big supporter of my work.

“I want this to go well. If you do it, you’ll be saving the day.” She pleaded.

My heart sunk at her words. Annie was always good at getting me to do things for her. She knew what buttons to push to get me to cave. And she did need help.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

She squealed and gave me another hug before opening the closet door.

“Perfect! Here is a list of pictures I want to be done.” She thrust a large binder into my hands. “See what you can do. Here’s the itinerary for the wedding. And I’ll get you an assistant.” She bustled away.

An assistant? I sat down on a nearby bench as my head swam. My relaxing weekend away to see my old babysitter get married just turned into the stuff of my nightmares.

Levi

I slapped the dust from my cowboy hat before shoving it on my head. I loved my sister, but the whole wedding nonsense drove me crazy. I’d rather be branding two hundred calves than delivering Annie’s wayward balloons. But here I was. My fist grabbed a hunk of ribbon and tugged the fifty white and ivory balloons. They fought for freedom, blocking my view as I stumbled my way into the pavilion. I fumbled for the doorknob until the door opened and I stepped into the large room. A couple of balloons stuck to the door frame, stopping my forward progress. I turned to pull them into the room. With a loud squeak, they released from the door frame. I stumbled backward, my arms flailed, and balloons floated to the ceiling. With a thud and a soft cry, someone broke my momentum. We went down in a pile of arms and legs.

“Levi, are you OK?”

Annie bent over me as she extracted the woman underneath me. She was curvy with bouncy blonde hair. She straightened her skirt before looking at me. Her blue eyes widened when our gazes met. The breath caught in my throat as recognition dawned on me.

“You remember Katie Kisment?” Annie flung an arm over the girl’s shoulders.

“Of course.” I swept my cowboy hat from my head as my heart thundered in my chest. “It’s good to see you.”

A pretty blush colored her cheeks. Boy, has she grown up. I haven’t seen her for five years when she went off to college. Back then, she was a shy teenager who’d barely say hi to me. She dyed her pretty blonde hair black and wore baggy black clothes. She didn’t smile much and hid behind chunky black glasses. I preferred her current natural blonde and blue glasses. She looked lovely and my body responded to her. I could stare into her blue eyes forever.

“Earth to Levi.” Annie waved her hand in front of my face.

“Yup.” I drew my gaze from the stunning beauty next to her and collected the balloons I could reach.

“Katie needs an assistant for the wedding. And I need you to help her.”

I froze in mid-reach. I loved my sister but I was trying to stay out of the wedding. I just wanted to shine my boots and walk my mother down the aisle.

“What?” I stuttered.

“She’s going to be my photographer since my original one is in the hospital. She needs help and you’re going to help her.” She poked me in the chest, hard. She spun on her heel and stalked off to torment someone else.

I caught the last balloon before turning to Katie. Her eyes were wide and her mouth opened into a little O. I smiled at her as she wrung her hands together.

“I don’t know anything about being a photographer’s assistant.”

“That’s fine.” A smile tugged at her lips. “I’ve never done a wedding.” She stage whispered, causing me to laugh.

“That makes two of us. I’ll take these over to my mom.” I motioned to the grey-haired woman by the archway. “Then, I am at your beck and call.” I winked at her as I walked past.

My head spun as I crossed the room. I had to spend the next thirty-six hours being with the one girl I’ve crushed on. The one girl that was off-limits, because I worked for her family. There were three rules to working on the Kisment ranch. No fighting, no drugs, and no dating their only daughter. It was shaping up to be a long wedding. I had to live the next several hours without losing my heart or my job.

Copyright protected. All rights reserved.

[faiz-khans-blogs]

The Ultimate Guide Of Buying An Electric Scooter In 2024.

Since you are here, we are sure that you have already decided to switch to electric. Well, that’s a good decision you plan on making for sure. Congratulations in advance for saving money, time and energy that you would spend on a petrol scooter in the year 2024.

Electric scooters have been around for more than a decade as it’s 2024 now. Actually, they have evolved over the decades. We are talking about the ones you saw back in 2013 that barely had any power or style. Since then, everything has changed and electric scooters have evolved with better style, extra battery safety features, a powerful motor and more.

Certainly technology has taken over the world and the most practical commuting option, electric scooters have started to take over the two wheeler market in the year 2024. Electric scooters are now considered to be from the family of convenience.

Talking about family, we want our family to have everything extra. Why not extraordinary commutes as well? Let’s take a pledge this year to provide an extraordinary electric scooter to your family members.

The BG C12i. Sab ke liye kuch extra! A perfect choice of every Indian family when it comes to electric scooters. This e-scooter was launched 8 months ago and is already trusted by more than 12,000+ families in India.

Here are a few reasons of why should you buy the BG C12i electric scooter for your family in the year 2024:

You will be starting the year by paying less.

This year your resolution of saving more money is finally coming true. Make it the best year of your financial decisions by getting home the BG C12i e-scooter for just ₹1,05,000/-. Besides being affordable, this scooter also has the latest technology like a lithium ion battery, extra powerful motor PSM hub motor and high quality and safety standards.

Plus, you get a state subsidy (if applicable in your state) on the purchase of any electric scooter. So, the feeling of ‘extra’ will never fade away once the BG C12 comes home.

You will be matching up to the 2024 fashion guidelines. 

Do you get that feeling of ‘what am I even wearing?’ when you look at your picture from 2013? Well, you shouldn’t get this feeling when you look at the vehicle you purchased years back. Amp up your style game with the new BG C12i, a contemporary and sporty vehicle, that makes you look stylish wherever you go.

The front designer-shaped LED headlights are complemented by extra stylish indicators that are hard to miss. Also, the BG C12i comes with a trendy decal design on the side of the scooter. The design of an electric scooter surely adds some colours to your life, and talking about colours, the BG C12i is available in a range of two stunning dual-tone colours, yellow techno & red and black and four stylish single-tone colours, foliage green, pearl white, shiny silver and matte BGauss blue.

This year, you will be going an extra mile for the family. 

The year 2023 has changed the electric scooter segment drastically since the entry of ‘n’ number of vehicles in the market. Even though the options are many, not all electric scooters match up to the expectations of a 100+ range on a full charge, but, we have good news ahead!

The BG C12i comes with an ARAI certified range of 135 km on a full charge and can go an extra mile to cross infinite milestones of smiles at every home.

This year, make sure to get something extra for you and your family. Book a test ride today by clicking the link below and ride in style with your family. Choose from six stylish colour variants: Red and Black, Yellow Techno, Pearl White, Foliage Green, Shiny Silver and BGauss Matte Blue.

Book A Test Ride!

You may also want to read about: A Comprehensive Guide For Buying An Electric Scooter

[misc-obeyme]

unchained - chapter six

masterpost read the chapter on ao3

recommended music: O Death by Kate Mann word count: 2809

GN!MC x Arsenios [demon OC] a/n: Okay now we're getting into things. But still more questions than answers happening here! Don't worry, all will be revealed in time~ Warnings: blood, minor injury, Lucifer (lol he gets his own warning)

You waited patiently as Arsenios helped the band put away their equipment. You noticed when the blond one waved him away, like she was saying go ahead, we can do the rest. Arsenios proceeded to walk you home, careful to stick to the well lit streets. It wasn't too far to the House of Lamentation from here, but you were grateful to have him by your side. There was something reassuring about his presence.

Not that you couldn't handle yourself should anything dangerous happen. You had no fear of lesser demons these days.

Arsenios kept the conversation light, talking about your upcoming curses and hexes homework.

It was dark, as it always was, but it was also late evening. There was a crescent moon in the sky among the Devildom stars. As you reached the part of the road that crossed with the path to the garden of the House of Lamentation, a surprisingly chilly breeze kicked up. It seemed like only seconds before the entire area was obscured by an odd fog now hanging low among the trees. You shivered a little from the moisture and humidity of it making your skin clammy.

Beside you, Arsenios seemed to be on high alert. He put a hand on your arm and whispered, "Don't move."

You froze. You scanned the area, but you didn't see anything at first. And then something emerged from the fog. Arsenios took a step forward, protectively, positioning himself so he was slightly in front of you.

The something materialized into a person wearing a black robe with a hood pulled up over their head. Your eyes were drawn to the massive silver scythe in their hands. A reaper?

From within the shadows of the hood, you could see a pale face and sunken eyes that glowed with bright yellow light. You could just make out a few stray strands of black hair tipped in neon green.

Arsenios's grip on your arm tightened and you could hear a low growling coming from him. It was as though he was doing everything he could to stop himself from attacking this reaper on sight.

You instinctively put a hand on Arsenios's arm, trying to remind him that he wasn't alone, even though you had no idea who this was or what was going on.

The reaper grinned. The amount of malice behind this simple act was so terrifying you felt the urge to run. But the slight trembling beneath your hand kept you steady.

"What are you doing here, Caligo?" Arsenios asked. Despite the way he seemed to be reacting to the reaper's presence, his voice was confident and betrayed nothing.

The reaper, Caligo, took a single step forward. "Can't I pay a visit to my old friend?"

Arsenios snorted. "We aren't friends."

Caligo tilted his head. "I suppose not. If it makes you feel any better, I don't have it with me."

You frowned. What was that supposed to mean? You wanted to ask, but the tension in Arsenios was wound so tightly now that you thought it best not to intervene.

Caligo's eyes moved from Arsenios to you. "I've heard about this human," he said. "What a delightfully shiny soul they have. Are you going to eat it yourself or sell it?"

Lucifer's words came back to you. Ancient demons like him see humans as prey.

"What do you want?" Arsenios asked.

Caligo shrugged. "I've been thinking about what to do with you. Can’t let you just wander around free, can I?”

Caligo moved so quickly it was almost like he teleported. One moment he was several feet away, taunting Arsenios with his words, the next he was close enough for his scythe to rest beneath Arsenios's chin, the edge of the blade against his throat.

"I'm no use to you dead,” Arsenios said quietly.

"You're no use to me alive either I'm afraid," Caligo replied. “But I don’t intend to kill you.”

You rolled your eyes. You'd had enough of these theatrics. You weren't afraid of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and you weren't afraid of a random reaper, either.

You reached out and grabbed the handle of the scythe, forcing it away from Arsenios's throat. You pushed until it was vertical and met the eyes of the reaper as you stepped in front of Arsenios. Caligo looked almost amused.

Arsenios rested his hands on your shoulders. "MC," he said, his voice strained, almost pleading.

"As always, I've been underestimated," you said. "Do you really think I'm going to simply stand by and let you hurt him? Do you think that I'm some innocent little idiot because I'm a human? Don't insult me."

You let go of the scythe roughly, pushing it back, causing Caligo to retreat a few steps. Arsenios's hands on your shoulders clenched.

Caligo laughed and gripped the scythe in both hands. "If I wanted to, human, I could tell that demon to kill you and he would."

This statement caused Arsenios to grip your shoulders so hard you thought he might break your bones. You wondered if this meant Caligo had a pact with Arsenios. Was that even possible?

"I'm done listening to your bullshit," you said. You raised a hand and began to recite a spell, one that would banish the reaper from your sight.

Caligo snarled and raised his scythe, pulled it back like he was preparing to make a wide slash right through your head.

Arsenios growled, low and deep and loud, echoing through the street and the garden. He pushed you out of the way as the scythe sliced through the air.

It missed you entirely, instead cutting cleanly across Arsenios's chest.

You gasped a little as you regained your footing. Arsenios grunted, but didn't move from where he stood. The blade of the scythe glittered wetly with blood. It looked black in the darkness.

You began to recite another spell, one that would summon one of the brothers, but your words were interrupted.

"Don't bother," Caligo snapped. "I missed my chance to behead you, so I'll take my leave before you can summon any other demons. I'll wait to find you when you're alone, Arsenios."

Arsenios smirked and his eyes looked wild. "I dare you to find me again, Caligo."

Caligo didn't reply. The fog surrounded him completely, obscuring him to the point where he was no longer visible at all.

Arsenios didn't move. He watched the spot where Caligo had disappeared. The mists still swirled, making it impossible to see far into the garden.

And then the fog cleared and the area was empty.

You stepped toward Arsenios and put a hand on his arm. "Arsenios?"

Arsenios started a little and looked at you. His hair was in disarray from the wind that had been blowing the fog out, strands falling into his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

“Me?” you demanded, reaching out a hand toward the slash across his chest. The fabric of his shirt hung open, exposing a long cut that was still oozing blood. You didn’t touch it, but your fingertips hovered just above it. “You’re the one who’s bleeding. Who even was that?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Arsenios said. “And don’t worry about me, either. It’s just a cut. I’ve had worse.”

You looked at him flatly. “You can’t be serious. At least come inside and let me clean it up.”

“It’s really not-“

You grabbed his hand and tugged on it as you turned back to the House of Lamentation’s front door. “Don’t argue with me. Just come on.”

Arsenios actually chuckled behind you. You stopped abruptly to turn and glare at him.

He raised a hand in defense. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… you really should be more careful. Powerful or not, you're still a human."

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

Arsenios stepped closer to you, his hand still clasped in yours. “Most demons aren’t like the brothers. Most of us don't let humans boss us around. Especially if we don't have a pact with them."

“If you’re trying to scare me into letting you leave, it’s not going to work,” you said bluntly. “I’m pretty sure it was just a couple of days ago that I saw you eating macarons with a cute little angel.”

Arsenios smiled as he let out an amused hmph. “I have layers you haven’t seen yet.”

You huffed. “Maybe I should just let you leave. You’re being really cocky for someone who’s still bleeding.”

“That’s because, as I’ve been trying to tell you, this injury is minor,” Arsenios said. “I’ll be fine. And you have other things to do.”

“I care more about your explanation for what just happened,” you said. “So I might as well clean you up while I’m at it. You aren’t getting out of this.”

Before he could continue to argue with you, you turned around and started tugging him back toward the front door.

Arsenios wasn’t exactly a small or weak demon. He could have pulled his hand out of yours and left if he really wanted to. And yet, he allowed you to bring him inside.

You took him to your own room, where you had him sit down on your bed while you got the first aid kit out of your bathroom.

You put the kit on the bed beside him and opened it, taking out the items you would need to clean the wound.

It was no longer bleeding. The cut had been far more shallow than you realized.

You lifted the tattered edge of Arsenios’s black t-shirt, exposing the cut, which stretched across the center of his chest. A glint of metal caught your eye and you pulled the fabric open just a little bit more.

You tried to fight down the blush that you could feel creeping up your neck when you realized you were looking at the silver barbell of a nipple piercing. You schooled your expression and tried to allow the fabric to return to where you could see the cut, but not the piercing.

Arsenios didn’t react when you started to dab at the blood on his chest. He watched you in silence and you could feel the tension rising.

Then you remembered why you had made him come inside in the first place.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Caligo,” Arsenios replied.

You frowned at him.

Arsenios sighed. “He’s a reaper. It’s a long story. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“I’ve never seen a reaper other than Thirteen,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s because they don’t usually come around to socialize with people,” Arsenios said. “I had an… agreement with Caligo for a while, but things changed. Things didn't end well between us.”

"No kidding," you said. "He was trying to kill you."

Arsenios was quiet. You were focused on your task, having finally cleaned away the blood. When it looked satisfactory, you raised your eyes to meet his. He was frowning, but he didn’t say anything.

"Right?" you prodded.

Arsenios ran a hand through his hair. "He tried to kill you," he said.

You blinked at him. He wasn't wrong, but you were sure this situation wasn't about you. "Maybe, but only because I was in the way," you said. "He's after you, there's no question about that."

Arsenios was restless suddenly, looking at anything but you. "I'm not sure why he came here. But he might want me to work with him again. All the threats were probably just posturing on his part. Trying to scare me into compliance."

"Would that work?" you asked.

Arsenios shrugged. "It's complicated. But he's seen your soul now and I'm worried that he'll try to get me to help him kill you."

You watched Arsenios’s face for a moment. He wasn’t looking at you. “Would you?”

When Arsenios met your eyes again, you saw that your question bothered him. “Do you think I would?”

You reached out and put your fingertips on top of Arsenios’s hand where it rested on his knee. Your skin stayed in contact with the black tattoo there.

“What happened to you?” you asked.

Arsenios pulled his hand back out of your reach. "You can trust me," he said. "You were right, Caligo came here for me. I don't think you're in danger. But even if you were, I would never help him. He betrayed me a long time ago, but aside from that, I like you. I don't want you to get hurt."

Although through most of this speech, Arsenios was not looking at you, he met your eyes at the end. Maybe he could hide it if he was lying, but you were sure he was telling you the truth.

“Okay,” you said. “I believe you.”

You noted the way tension seemed to leave Arsenios’s body at this. You took out a large white bandage and pressed it over his wound, your fingers brushing lightly against the skin of his chest.

Before you could pull away, Arsenios took hold of your hands, keeping you close to his face. “I mean it, MC. I know you don’t need my protection, but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You saw only sincerity in his purple eyes. Could you truly trust this music demon? He had pushed you out of the way and was injured himself. And he wasn’t singing you into compliance, which he certainly could have done.

You squeezed his hands. “I know.”

You might have said more, but the door to your room flew open and an ominous black aura seemed to emanate from it.

Arsenios dropped your hands and stood up to face Lucifer who was standing in your doorway.

You were a little surprised to see him - you knew he had been at the Demon Lord’s Castle that evening. He must have just gotten back.

“I knew you would be here,” Lucifer said.

Arsenios folded his arms. “I was just leaving.”

“I saw Caligo on my way back from the castle,” Lucifer said. His eyes flicked down to the bandage on Arsenios’s chest. “I see you had an encounter with him.”

Arsenios was about to say something, but Lucifer cut him off.

“I hope MC wasn't injured,” he said, his eyes now landing on you.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Arsenios said.

Lucifer took a few steps into the room, coming closer to where Arsenios was standing. “I hope I don't need to tell you that you had better make sure that reaper comes nowhere near MC.”

Arsenios actually took a step forward, his face close to Lucifer’s. “Don’t worry yourself about it. You won’t see him around here again.”

They stared each other down.

You were a little confused. They seemed to be agreeing about protecting you from Caligo, but they were acting as though they were arguing. You supposed it had to do with demonic egos. It was especially irritating because you had been the one to take care of things.

Arsenios stepped away from Lucifer to look at you. “I’m sorry about all of this, MC. It won’t happen again.”

Arsenios moved easily around Lucifer before exiting the room.

You looked at Lucifer and frowned. “What was all that about?”

Lucifer shook his head. “Barbatos told me you've been spending time with Arsenios lately. You should stay away from him, MC. I told you before, he's dangerous.”

“What do you know about him? About that reaper?” you asked, hoping Lucifer would tell you more.

“Not much,” Lucifer said. “Only that they used to work together. Barbatos wouldn’t tell me more and I can’t be bothered with the sordid pasts of lesser demons. I just want you to be careful.”

You sighed. “You know I can handle myself. I’m not worried.”

Lucifer frowned, but he didn’t argue with you about this.

Later that night, as you tried to sleep, you found you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. You had asked Arsenios questions, but he wouldn’t answer all of them. Something happened between him and that reaper. It seemed like Caligo hadn't been around for a while. Arsenios was certainly surprised to see him. He tried to make it sound like you might get caught up in whatever was going on between them, but you weren't so sure.

Either way, you found you were more concerned about Arsenios than you were about yourself. He had tried to scare you tonight, to bring up the fact that demons aren't like the brothers. He was trying to push you away, to protect you. He was worried about you, but you could tell that in this situation he was the one who was in danger.

Still, you hadn't lied before. You did believe him. And you trusted him. You couldn't quite explain it, but you did. Only time would tell if that trust was misplaced.

masterpost | chapter five | chapter seven

taglist: @avalordream @lonely-north-star @expressionless-fr @featheredcrowbones @pumpkinsareamazing @szired comment to be added or removed!

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[shimmerbeasts]

Temporary Alliance||closed

The thorn piece of tunic flapped in the hot, dry air, crammed between their fangs. The Noxian senator, who had worn the shiny, white silk, was stewing away in Naafiri's guts. The Darkin dune hound pack had devoured him after he had, under torture, revealed that the local city council had sent some lone mercenary to dig up Shuriman treasure not too far away from here.

Disgraceful! The mere preposterous assumption of these invaders that they could take items, which belonged rightfully to a long-gone Empire was disgusting. Normally, Naafiri could not care less, however, they had overheard what kind of treasure the Noxians had been after. Someone had uncovered another one of her brethren - a Darkin weapon without a host, buried underneath a desolate temple in a forsaken, sandy grave.

Naafiri remembered what it was like to be stuck in this immobilising hell with nothing but the thoughts in your mind for company. All your dreams, all your regrets, all your rage. No wonder so many of their brothers and sisters had gone mad from their isolation. Naafiri remembered the resentment they felt upon awakening in a pack of dune hounds. They had seemed so beneath the god warrior. Now, they considered the yapping and growling animals, who had made her into more, their salvation.

The sun had reached its peak in Shurima's pale blue sky when Naafiri finally spotted the temple. It was buried half in the sands, surrounded by hills of dunes. A colossal square of an arch with a gateway, yawning into the abyss, was the only thing, which seemed to peek out of the yellow mountains. From up where they stood, Naafiri could make out very little, though they thought they could spot hieroglyphs carved into the pale stone.

The Darkin could not tell whether or not the mercenary had headed already into the temple. Body shivering with excitement at the hunt possibly soon starting, Naafiri finally bolted down the sandy hills, several of their pack mates rushing ahead. It was a big mistake as suddenly out of the sand snapped various snares in a crescent shape with hard, iron teeth. They clamped down upon the pack mates' sensitive bellies and crushed their rib cages. Naafiri flinched and put their ears against their head, gasping for breath as they felt themselves die multiple times.

Traps! Somebody clearly did not want visitors!

Digging their paws into the hot sand, the main body growled in frustration. Something shimmering and flashing into the corner of their eye made them turn their head. Naafiri caught the smell before she saw the mercenary. It smells of the desert winds. It is Shuriman. The mercenary was a woman, skin brown and tanned from the unrelenting sun. She had long, sleek black hair, and was dressed in cyan and brown with some rough-looking leather pads on her thighs and shoulders. On her forehead flashed a diadem with a turquoise stone.

However, what worried Naafiri, was the weapon this woman carried. Even though it had been strapped to her back, the Darkin would recognise those curved blades and cross-shape anywhere. This strange golden disc was the chalikar, which had banished so many of her fellow brothers and sisters into their weapons. If that mercenary knew how to use that weapon, Naafiri was in danger of losing their so sought out freedom all over again.

The Darkin's jaws rattled as they growled at the thought. They were not going to roll over and beg. Naafiri pressed themselves down onto the ground and began to creep towards the mercenary, planning to flank her and attack. If they killed her before she entered the crypt, then they would not get the chance to use the chalikar against them. Alternatively, maybe whoever was buried down there, would appreciate the vessel, Naafiri had just found for them!

@nameaprice

[bump1nthen1ght]

At the End of the Day

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader/Non-Binary Tentacle Monster (It/It’s pronouns used)

Genre: Fluff, First Times, Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Content up ahead (18+ only!), Tentacles, Slight mention of Aphrodisiacs

Word Count: 2904 Words

Summary: After an exhausting day at work, you find some unexpected comfort from under your bed

Request :Omg I love your Forest Fun fic💕 Could I req a NSFW with a tentacle monster, monster under your bed? I was thinking of a lonely reader, meeting their under the bed mate one night where they were hang their hand off the bed, hoping for a monster to hold it and love them, AND IT DOES! Tysm I love your writing!!!

You officially concluded it was a bad day when you collapsed on your bed at 12 AM, too tired to sleep and too dehydrated to cry your feelings out.

You had been on your feet for nine hours, been screamed at for three, and had barely had time to heat up a cup of ramen noodles before almost passing out from exhaustion. Not even the comfort of a screen could help, having forgotten to record the newest episode of your favorite show and having left your phone charger at home all day.

All in all, you 're having a bad time.

You sluggishly pull up your blankets, only in your underwear because putting on pajamas was too much work, and are left to look at your ceiling.

The bed is cold, not yet warmed by your body heat, and the sheets feel a little itchy. You groan, wondering if one thing, one thing, could go right today.

It’d be nice if you had someone to cuddle. Maybe a pillow would suffice, but it’s the thought of someone’s soft touch, playing with your hair, the sound of their heartbeat against your ear. Someone to massage out the stress from your back and shoulders, and remind you that everything would be alright; Whispering promises of a better tomorrow.

But that doesn’t just happen overnight.

You throw your hands over your face, groaning into your palms as you beg your mind to just let you sleep. Dragging your fingers down your cheeks, you let out a pitiful whine before you flip over to your stomach and try to find comfort that way.

You stuff your face into your pillow, one hand dangling off the side of your bed, fingers just barely brushing the carpet. You trace patterns into the fabric, wondering how nice it would feel to be wrapped in something that warm and cozy. Something big enough to envelope you whole, pinning you to the bed. Something with nice warm hands to fill yours, that will pet the back of knuckles and kiss them goodnight. Something that would travel up your wrist, hot and sensual, leaving a trail of warm ooze that-

Wait.

What the fuck.

Your hand jerks upwards, the liquid now running down your forearm glistening. You pull your face out your pillow and throw yourself to the other side of the bed, eyes racing back and forth across your room.

It’s the same as before, only moon light shining through your window and the low hum of your fan accompanying it. You take another look at your hand, streaks of slime dribbling down the sides. It’s warm, the consistency of aloe vera, and sort of smells like...vanilla?

With your heart pounding, you slowly inch over to the side of your bed, not daring to look too far over, too afraid of what you might see.

You fly backwards when the tip of something black and shiny comes up and over your sheets, tentatively tapping the side. It looks like it’s feeling around for something.

Was it looking for you?

You freeze as the tentacle reaches farther and farther up the sheets, thrashing around as you avoid it’s touch, until another one joins it in the search. You don’t move an inch, fearing any shifting of the blankets would alert the creature to your presence.

The tentacles reach about half-way across the bed, almost brushing against your toes, when they freeze. You hold a breath and watch them slowly slink back underneath, wondering if now is the time to lose your shit.

A pair of eyes-wait, no, two pairs of eyes peer up from the side, glowing yellow in the dark. Their pupils expand as they take in the darkness, darting around until they see you, curled up against the corner of your headboard.

There’s a soft churring noise, like the startup of a vacuum or the sound of birds singing. A tiny tentacle comes up, sheepishly tapping the sheets as the creature stares at you.

“....Alright?” It murmurs. It’s voice is scratchy, like it’s trying to make sounds it never has before.

“What?” Your mouth, barely making a whisper. The tentacle points to your hand, still covered in ooze.

“Smelled...sad.” The creature sniffs, slightly raising it’s head so you can see the bottom half of its face. It resembled that of a human, but the mouth extended all the way back to it’s jaw, hinged like a snake. You can see several rows of sharp teeth and the purplish tongue that comes out and wets it’s...lips? “Thought….I could help.” The tentacle draws a circle into your bed covers, the creature's eyes darting away as it’s skin flushes an even darker black; Indigos and deep violets highlight the contours of it’s face. “Don’t like it...when you are sad….”

You think you’ve lost your chance to have a breakdown, your mind already switching to numb out the wave of realizations you are going through right now. All you can focus on are the bashful look on the creature's face, the way it’s tentacles nervously tuts back and forth, and how warm your hand felt in its embrace. How nice it felt.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You mutter, finally able to make proper words. “I appreciate it.” You unconsciously rub your thumb over the palm of your slick hand, noting how hot it still is, how it relaxes your muzzles like a warm bath.

The creature just nods, resting it’s chin on the bed.

“Feeling...better?”

You shrug. “Uh...a little bit. A good hand-hold is always nice.”

At that, the creature perks up, and you can see some more tentacles come up the bedside. They beckon you to come closer, massaging the mattress and somehow leaving no trails of their slime. The creature swallows, rubbing the back of its neck.

“...Could make you feel….really good….If you...want.”

Your eyebrow quirks, the cogs of your brain working extra slow tonight. But the way the creature flushes, the way it’s tentacles writhe so sensually, you soon start to get the picture.

A logical person might have said no. Might’ve screamed, thrown on the light, and barricaded their bedroom. Probably called the authorities, or animal control.  

But isn’t this what you’d been asking for? And they were sweet enough to pick you up when you were down. Even asked for your permission afterwards, and made a conscious effort to not make a total mess of your bed.

Maybe it’ was the nine hours of pure hell, maybe it’s the fact it’s the most physical contact you’ve had in months, but there’s a part of you that really wants to say yes.

And it’s probably the sleep deprivation that makes you actually do it.

“Yeah. I-I think I would like that.” You slowly unfurl yourself, the creature's face lighting up as you slowly crawl over to it. It’s tentacles thrash around unabashedly, some too eager to even wait for you to get closer, tickling the tops of your knees and nipping at your fingers. You giggle as one finds a ticklish spot. “What’s your name?” You whisper, falling into the soft touches of it’s tentacles as you get closer and closer to the creature’s face. It’s still flushed purple, it’s eyes racing over your body.

“Ghitir.” It croaks, taking a deep breath as your oversized night shirt slips down your shoulder, exposing your skin to it’s greedy eyes. It’s flattering, how much it wants you.

You pull down your collar even more, letting it fall past your collarbone and show just a peak of your chest. A tentacle has begun crawling up your leg, the thick ooze leaving a warm trail along the outside of your thigh, and you gently grab it. Ghitir shudders as you stroke your thumb over the tentacle, feeling the way it’s muscles push against your palm.

It’s hot breath brushes across your face as you look into its four eyes, not realizing how close you had gotten to it. Your eyes fall it’s mouth, where it’s long tongue darts out for a second.

“My name’s _____.” You punctuate the sentence with a kiss, one which Ghitir reciprocated hungrily. It’s tongue along your lips before darting into your mouth, your hands running up the back of its neck as you sink deeper into the feeling.

The tentacles have grown bolder, several now pushing past the bottoms of your pajama shorts and others going under your shirt. One slides up the center of your chest, it’s tip barely touching your nipples as the others run along your pelvis. You can feel slime drip down your behind as several caress your ass, pulling the fabric of your shorts higher and higher as they squeeze. The liquid has gotten even hotter, making your skin buzz and tingle.

All the sensations come together in a perfect tidal wave, so much so that even the rubbing of your pajamas against your crotch has you keeling into Ghitir, thrusting your hips against your mattress. Ghitir churrs, pulling it’s tongue out of your mouth to lather your jaw and neck in kisses. There’s a slight sting as you feel claws dig into your lower back, your hazy eyes glancing downwards to see Ghitir’s four, vaguely humanoid-arms, push you closer to it’s body. It pants and yanks on the shirt fabric, urging you to take it off. You do so in one quick motion, but before you let Ghitir lunge for another kiss, you yank it’s shoulders upwards and onto your bed, revealing all of its body to you.

It’s torso and arms connect to a mass of rolling tentacles, big and small, all of which latch onto you as you fall back onto the bed. Some squirm under your waistband, pushing your shorts and underwear past your crotch and down to your thighs. You shimmy your legs and kick them off your ankles, a shiver running down your spine as cold muscle presses up against your sex. Ghitir leans down into the crook of your neck, exhaling hot breath as it’s cold skin presses into your chest. Your nipples pebble and you run your hands down it’s back, nails digging into it’s clenched muscles.

Ghitir’s tentacles rub your crotch, undulating while one slinks down to your entrance. Beads of liquid smear off of it and into your skin, it’s tip just ghosting over your hole. The knot in your stomach burns hotter, your crotch thrusting upwards, trying to catch that fleeting sensation. But Ghitir is focused on covering your neck and shoulders in sloppy kisses. Sweat drops down your neck and it licks up toward your jaw, shuddering a groan from the taste.

Your head is hazy and your eyes have a hard time focusing, but you're able to feel your way to a tentacle, grabbing it by the thickest part and rubbing your thumb up it’s side. Ghitir lurches forward, it’s tongue lolling out with a shaky squeal. The tentacle teasing your entrance seizes, pressing up against the sensitive skin but not quite pushing through. You move your hand farther up the tentacle, squeezing intermittently before you reach the tip. You brush the pad of your index finger over it and a drop of slime drips down your wrist. One pair of Ghitir’s hands has moved down to your hips, it’s claws slightly pinching your skin as you press your finger down on it’s tip. It bites back a groan, rolling it’s lower half into the bed when you lick a stripe up the tentacle. It’s slime isn’t salty like human sweat, but sweet, almost like nectar.

You press your abdomen upwards, pressing kisses against the tentacle, your other hand grabbing another and half-hazardly jerking it up and down. Drool is dripping down Ghitir’s face, it’s eye’s locked onto you. You wink, erotically sticking your tongue out as you lick up, and up, and up, until just the tip rests on your bottom lip. With a tentative lick, you open your mouth wide and suck down the tentacle like a lollipop.

Ghitir’s forehead falls against yours. It’s tentacles convulse as you suck in your cheeks and move your head up and down, the tentacle in your mouth slowly stirring to action. It massages your tongue, shyly moving further and further into your mouth. Drool and Ghitir’s slime drips down your jaw as you let it slacken, the tentacle quickly hitting the back of your throat. The tip presses against your gag reflex, pulling back quickly once it hears you choke. But you give Ghitir a thumbs up, keeping a tight suction around the tentacle as it gently begins to face fuck you.

You can feel Ghitir’s hand’s shaking as it pounds your mouth, releasing more and more slime as it shudders inside your lips. You stop moving your head, letting Ghitir thrust into your mouth at it’s own pace, and reach forward and feel around for the tentacle pressed against your crotch. Your vision is dotted with black spots, but you eventually find the tip pressed so close to your entrance, pulling and urging it forward. Your eye’s shift toward Ghitir, it’s face locked onto the way you take it’s tentacle in your mouth. It’s tongue is hanging out of it’s mouth, cheeks nearly glowing with it’s bright blush, but it’s coherent enough to understand what you want.

The tentacle slithers out of your hand and presses against your soaked hole, dripping with it’s slime and your sweat. The tip finally pushes past your entrance and you can feel your eyes roll backwards as it stretches you open.

The tentacle is slightly smaller than the one in your mouth and although the pressure is relieving, it still leaves you wanting more. You jerk your hips forward, asking for it to punish your hole like it’s punishing your mouth. Ghitir nods, one of it’s hands stroking the side of your jaw as another tentacle slips inside of you, twisting with it’s twin and pressing against your walls. You moan once more, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. The sensations are overwhelming, deliciously overwhelming.

The tentacles inside your curl around each other, searching for that sensitive spot inside you. The tentacle in your mouth starts to thrust erratically, more and more slime coating the back of your throat as it begins to spasm. You clamp your lips around the base, coating it in your saliva as it nears it’s climax.

Your legs feel shaky and buzzed, your movements uncoordinated as you focus on breathing and chasing your own orgasm,The pair of Ghitir’s hands on your hips help your lower half hump against its tentacles. With a yelp and quick jolt of your body, Ghitir realizes it’s finally found the perfect spot, the one that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling backwards. The tentacle in your mouth slows down, edging itself on your tongue and your lips, but the tentacles down below pick up the pace. They pull out until only their intertwined tips remain, right before surging back inside you.

Your bed springs squeak as Ghitir continues to pound you into the mattress, it’s free pair of hands roaming and groping all unattended parts of your body as you throw your hips upward with every thrust. It pinches your nipples and lays wet kisses all down your collarbone, your chest coated in slime, saliva, and sweat. The tentacle continues to just rub itself all over the inside of your mouth, shaking as it teases itself nice and slow. Tears drip down your face as you feel the rubber band snapping, the fire in your belly about to combust. You moan around the tentacle, gurgling a couple of “Yes, yes, yes!”

Ghitir purrs as your body begins to seizing up, it’s claws digging into your pelvis as the tentacles pick up their speed. The tentacle in your mouth retracts, gushes saliva and slime falling out of your mouth. But Ghitir quickly replaces it with its tongue, petting the side of your face as you make out.

There, there, there, right there, right there- The moan you let out is almost a scream, punctuated by a strong “Oh fuck!” as hot streams of Ghitir’s cum flood your insides. The smaller tentacle spasms, squirting it’s juices all over your sweaty chest as Ghitir bites its lip with a groan. You can feel your body slacken, your chest heaving as you collapse into your sheets, leaving only tiny kisses against Ghitir’s lips. It follows you as your head sinks into your pillow, finally pulling away to let you catch your breath.

Ghitir rests its forehead against the center of your chest, its tentacles slowly slithering out of you, dripping slime all over your bed. Its chest is still alight with a purple blush, their body shaking from all of the exertion.

You find yourself stroking the side of their face, mind still fuzzy as you trace the contours of their cheekbones and enjoy the unusual texture of it’s skin. Ghitir’s four eyes peak open, just as delirious as you are.

“Thanks.” You suck in a deep breath, “That was...amazing.”

It smiles, nuzzling its cheek into your stomach, a small purr rumbling through you.

“No...problem..”

Ghitir’s tentacles lay sprawled out below you, lazily petting your calves and feet as Ghitir draws lazy circles into your stomach.

In no time at all, you fall asleep.

[sonseulsoleil]

33 or 70!

I went with 70! I really hope you like it! It got a little bit out of hand, and a little bit steamy towards the end, but mostly it's just Nick and Charlie being stupidly in love. (also read on AO3) (prompt list)

Nick Nelson was absolutely miserable. It was February, and the radiator in his dorm room had gone out, so it was fucking freezing, he had a mountain of assignments that he kept putting off (it turned out, not having his mum around to nag him about homework increased his capacity for procrastination about 200%), and absolutely worst of all, Charlie had cancelled their planned video call for that afternoon. 

It wasn’t like Nick didn’t know that Charlie was extremely busy—he’d gone through what Charlie was going through himself only a year prior, and he still remembered just how horribly stressful that final year of sixth form was. There was no way he was going to make Charlie feel guilty for prioritizing his studies over Nick. Even if it was Valentine’s Day, and even if they hadn’t spoken outside of text messages for what felt like weeks, and even if Nick had been really looking forward to the look on Charlie’s face when he opened the gift Nick had sent him. 

They were going to have plenty more Valentine’s Days together, Nick reasoned. No reason to get upset over missing one . Certainly, no reason to make Charlie feel bad about it, especially when Charlie had sent him a gift and had promised to make it up to him on the weekend. The gift, wrapped in a small blue box, and shiny yellow ribbon, sat unopened on Nick’s desk. Charlie had told him to go ahead and open it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

It was irrational. There was no reason for him to be upset. He was just stupid and sentimental and it didn’t matter. He checked the time on his phone, and it was only about 7 PM, which meant it was too early to go to bed, even if the winter season meant it was already pitch dark outside. He glanced down at his laptop, his most pressing assignment staring up at him, and groaned. He pulled the strings on his hoodie tightly until his vision was obscured by the hood, and lowered his head onto his desk. He stayed there for a few minutes, unmotivated to do anything but pout. He was just starting to consider if maybe 7 PM being too early for bed was just him being arbitrary when his phone rang. 

It was Charlie. 

Nick answered it on the first ring. 

“Charlie! Hi!” Nick was vaguely aware that he probably sounded too eager, but he didn’t care.

“Hi.” Charlie’s voice was soft and breathy as always. “What are you up to?” 

“Trying to do my homework,” Nick laughed in spite of himself. “I’m not making much progress.” 

“Ah,” Charlie hummed. “You sound stressed.” 

“Do I?” Nick sighed. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just school is so overwhelming, and the weather is terrible. It’s bloody freezing up north.” He left off the loneliness he felt. Charlie didn’t need to be burdened with that. 

Charlie chuckled. “You can say that again. I can’t believe how much it snows h—up there.” He stumbled over his words towards the end of his sentence, but Nick didn’t pay much attention to it; he knew his boyfriend must be tired. 

“I know!” Even just talking on the phone with Charlie for a few minutes made Nick feel lighter than he had in days. “God, I miss you so much.” 

“I miss you too,” Charlie said, automatically. “And I really am sorry that I had to cancel our video call, but—” 

“It’s fine,” Nick cut him off. “I know you’re busy with schoolwork. I’m just really glad you called me. Hearing your voice makes everything better ."

“Not that I’m not glad to hear that,” Charlie’s voice took on an unexpectedly mischievous tone. “But I think I can do better.” 

“What?” Nick frowned. He knew Charlie couldn’t make the video call, so what could possibly be better than talking on the phone? “What do you mean?” 

“Open your door, Nick.” 

Nick’s heart skipped a beat, and he was up from his desk and across his tiny dorm room in a matter of seconds. He threw open the door, and there, in the corridor, holding a bouquet of red roses, was Charlie Spring. Charlie was bundled in layers of jumpers and his heaviest black coat, his cheeks pink with cold. A few of his curls poked out from under a burgundy beanie, flakes of white snow contrasted against the black of his hair. It reminded Nick so much of that day in the snow when they had just started to get closer. Nick had wanted to kiss Charlie so badly that day, almost as badly as he wanted to today. 

“How—” Nick choked out. “You’re here!” And then he was wrapping his arms around Charlie and pulling him inside. He kissed Charlie without waiting for permission, and Charlie kissed back instantly. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Nick,” Charlie breathed out when they parted. 

“God,” Nick nestled his head into the crook of Charlie’s neck. “I missed you so much.” 

Charle hummed. “I missed you, too.” 

After a moment, Nick finally released his boyfriend and guided him further into his cramped living space. He gently set the roses on his desk, grateful that Charlie had bought the kind that came with a vase. “I wish I’d known you were coming, I’d have changed out of these grubby joggers.” 

“Aw, but you’re so cute in grubby joggers,” Charlie replied, flopping down onto Nick’s bed with a smirk. “Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day and we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, I was kind of hoping to see you not wearing any clothes.” 

Nick rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the slight blush that dusted across his cheeks. “I suppose we’ll have to keep each other warm somehow, seeing as my radiator’s still busted.” 

“Exactly,” Charlie kissed him on the cheek. “But first,” he slid his backpack off his back and pulled out a familiar parcel. “I’ve been waiting to open this for three days. I knew you’d want to see my reaction.” 

Nick grabbed the blue box off his desk before plopping himself down next to Charlie, completely invading his personal space. He was sure Charlie didn’t mind. “Can I go first? I know you told me to go ahead and open it, but I just couldn't.” 

Charlie looked at him with soft blue eyes. “Nick, you’re ridiculous.” 

“And yet, you love me anyway.” Nick carefully opened the box to reveal a shiny silver pendant. Oval in shape, with the engraving of a young man running with a rugby ball. The words Saint Sebastian Pray For Me were engraved around the edges. 

Nick blinked. “Saint Sebastian?” Neither of them was particularly religious, but Nick knew Charlie’s dad’s side of the family (the Spanish side) was Catholic. “Is this the patron saint of rugby or something?” 

Charlie laughed. “Not quite. Saint Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes.” 

“Ah,” Nick nodded. “That makes sense.” 

“He’s also the patron saint of the LGBT+ community,” Charlie added, breezy and casual. “So, it seemed fitting.” 

“Oh. ” Nick grinned. “Now I get it. Though I am a bit surprised to hear that such a thing exists.” 

“Well, it’s not, like, official, or anything, we just kind of claimed him, I guess” Charlie chuckled. “There are all these paintings of him where’s he’s just half-naked and muscley and stuff. Also something about arrows and, uh,  penetration.” 

Nick snorted. “Wow, arrow penetration, that sounds real romantic, Char.” 

“Rugby season is right around the corner, you know,” Charlie said simply. “Someone has to watch over you during games when I can’t be there. I’m sure university players are going to be even bigger and scarier than the prep school boys.”

And, oh . Nick’s heart swelled. “That’s adorable. You’re adorable.” He slipped the pendant around his neck. “I’m never taking it off.” 

“Shut up,” Charlie blushed. 

Nick wanted to kiss the blush off Charlie’s cheeks, so he did. He peppered kisses all over his boyfriend’s face until Charlie was squealing and giggling. 

“Okay, okay,” Charlie managed when he finally escaped Nick’s kiss attack, breathing heavy. “My turn.” 

Nick beamed, nodding encouragingly for Charlie to continue. “Go on.” 

Charlie tore into the paper to reveal a photo album—no, a scrapbook. Nick’s mum made a new scrapbook every winter out of their family photos from that year, which inspired Nick to make one for Charlie. A tangible reminder of all their shared memories to help with the distance. 

Charlie sniffed as he flipped through it. He stopped a few pages in, on a crumpled receipt for three cokes and a basket of chips. “Nick, is this—is this your receipt from the bowling alley? From my fifteenth birthday?” 

“Uh, maybe?” Nick flushed. 

“You kept that? For almost three years?” Charlie was looking at him, but it wasn’t judgemental or mocking, instead, he simply looked in awe. 

“I just…want to remember everything,” Nick said softly. “I want to remember us , and how we were then, and how we are now. I want to look back when we’re old and grey and remember what it was like when we were just two kids in love.” 

“God, you’re so cheesy.” Charlie’s teasing remark was undercut by the thick emotion in his voice and the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Says the guy who took a 4-hour train ride on a school night just to surprise me,” Nick shot back. “You realize there’s no way you’re getting back in time for your classes tomorrow, right?” 

“Oh, I know,” Charlie looked up to meet Nick’s eye. “And I really don’t care.” 

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Charlie Spring, Head Boy of Truham Grammar School, huh?” Nick nudged him. 

Charlie snorted. “Let’s just say that the Head Boy of Truham has better things to do than his coursework tonight.” 

“Oh?” Nick’s lips turned up in a wry smile. “Like what?” 

Charlie scooted closer on the bed, so all Nick could focus on was the blue of his eyes and the heat of his breath on Nick’s skin. “Like you ?” 

Nick scoffed. “That was terrible.” 

“And yet, you haven’t moved away,” Charlie pointed out,  moving even closer. 

“Never,” Nick breathed, closing the final distance between them. At first, the kiss was slow and sweet, but it very quickly built into something urgent, open-mouthed, and frenetic. Charlie’s hands were in Nick’s hair, pulling gently until Nick had no choice but to moan into Charlie’s mouth. Nick’s hands found their way under the first jumper Charlie had on, pushing it over his head to reveal another. “God, how many of these layers am I going to have to get through, Char?” 

Charlie laughed. “I guess you’ll just have to keep going to find out.” Charlie reached for Nick’s hoodie, fumbling to get it off, leaving Nick in just his t-shirt. Charlie’s cold hands snaked underneath the fabric, and Nick shivered under his touch as Charlie pushed his shirt off.  

“This is so unfair.” Nick removed another of Charlie’s jumpers, to reveal a third jumper. But this one he could tell was the last. 

Finally, he got his hands on Charlie’s bare skin. He peppered kisses up Charlie’s torso as he pushed up his last layer, feeling Charlie’s muscles tense under him. He paid special attention to his chest and clavicle, revelling in the sharp intakes of breath Charlie took as he kissed and nipped and sucked at his skin. 

Nick trailed kisses up Charlie’s neck before finally capturing his lips again. Charlie’s hands were in Nick’s hair again, and his legs were wrapped around Nick’s middle, and then—

Charlie flipped them over, so he was on top, practically straddling Nick. 

“God, you’re so hot. You’re fucking amazing.” Nick rambled. “I love you so much,  Charlie.” 

Charlie just laughed at him. “I love you so much, too, Nick.” 

And then they were kissing again, Charlie still on top of him, and Nick wished he could live in this moment forever. He knew Charlie would have to leave in the morning, and he’d have to go back to his mountain of assignments and broken heater and lonely single dorm, but for now, it didn’t matter. For now, he had Charlie.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hanma Shuji as reader’s sugar daddy lmao

STOP I--

I CAN'T STOP WRITING FOR THIS MAN I--

The Arrangement: Shuji Hanma X Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: a lil' NSFW at the end

masterlist

song recommendation: Pu$$y Talk - City Girls (Feat. Doja Cat)

Fluttering your lashes seems to do the trick every time for the men who come to the ritzy bar.

"A cognac?" Flutter them for emphasis when you ask a question. Purse your lips a little. Lean forward so they can see your cleavage.

It works every single time. Even on married men who are 100% dedicated to their wives... or mistresses. They're already half-drunk when you pull out your tricks, and their over-confidence leads to fatter tips in your pockets in hopes of scoring an hour with you. But even after all of the cajoling, the pursuing, the lusting... you turn them down and head back to your shared apartment, stuffing the money into your rent jar before taking a shower and heading to bed.

And the cycle begins anew the next day.

You don your slinky black dress, spray a tap of perfume on your wrists, and twirl your curls around your finger before leaving the apartment and driving to the place that hogs your evenings. And it's Friday evening, which means the work crowd and the wealthy crowd would come together in the glamorous bar.

"Y/n," Okina, your manager, calls out. "Big client in the VIP room upstairs. Think you can handle it?"

Big client? VIP room? Serving drinks at the private bar? "Fuck yeah," you answer, saluting the woman who just rolls her eyes, laughing.

"Don't drain them of all of their money, y/n," she replies and you nod, giving her a wink. You climb the stairs up to the private room and watch as servers make the wooden table nice and shiny for the guests coming. The VIP room has only been used four times in your entire seven years here, but every single time it was used for a big client who left amazing tips.

"Maybe I could use tonight's money to save up for a dog," you muse out loud, wiping down the bar and preparing your workstation carefully. The image of the Maltipoo you'd desired since childhood pops into your head, and you smile to yourself, coming up with a list of names as you work.

You're so lost in thought that you don't realize a good portion of the clientele has already come in, each one of them dressed to the nines and taking their seats.

Two snaps call you back to reality, and you look up at the man waiting for your assistance as you clean a bar glass.

"How can I help you, sir?"

The black and yellow-haired man looks at you with a bored expression, orange eyes roving over your appearance slowly. He adjusts his glasses, then states,

"Whiskey. Neat." You fulfill the request and place the drink in front of him with a napkin.

"Anything else, sir?"

"I'll be back shortly." He downs the drink all in one go, and you watch him walk off warily. The tattoos on his hands are enough to warn you that maybe this guy is bad news, but you shrug, taking the glass and putting it in the small sink against the wall. A few others come up to the bar for drinks, but the presentation and following discussion claims most of the men's attention.

Which is fine... sort of. It's really eating into your tips, to be honest.

"Another whiskey." You immediately offer it to the man in front of you, and he downs it, just like the one before.

"Anything else?" you murmur, and he crooks his finger at you. You lean a little closer, tilting your head just so and tucking your lip underneath your top row of teeth.

"You work here part-time? Full-time?"

"Full-time," you reply, fluttering your lashes. The earring in the man's ear shakes a little as he tilts his head a little, mimicking your stance.

"Do you enjoy it here? Make a lot of money?"

"Money is okay; I like working here," you answer, leaning forward to show off your cleavage as you grab his abandoned drink. He grabs your wrist, giving you a small smile before caressing your fingers.

"You know who I am, don't you, y/n?"

"No." The truth rolls off of your tongue with ease, but the man's face falls slightly as if he's disappointed that you don't know about his wealth and fame. "Should I?"

"Only if you want to." He raises a brow, blinking slowly. Did you want to? "Shuji Hanma." The man flips you a card, covered in gold foil and black, shiny cardstock. "If you're looking for some fun outside of work, you should give me a call."

_____________________________________________________________

If you're looking for some fun, you should give me a call.

You flip the card around in your hands, noting the numbers in gold foil and the lack of a name, a business, or anything else identifying. Yeah, Shuji Hanma is clearly someone who needed to be paid attention to. You consider dialing the number that night, but then you remember the lack of significant tips. Why bother with a man who wouldn't pay you for excellent service?

Even Onika thought it was odd that you hadn't received a cash flow...

You sigh, tossing the card aside and laying back on the bed, the dream of owning a Maltipoo slipping even further from your grasp.

"Curiosity killed the cat," your roommate warns day after day after day. But on the fifth day of having the card lay on your desk, you finally pick up your phone and call the number.

"And satisfaction brought it back," you muse, waiting for the line to pick up. It picks up on the second ring. "H-hello? Shuji Hanma?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beautiful hostess from the bar. Thought about my offer?"

"Yes," you breathe, and Shuji hums softly.

"Meet me at Ocean Prime for dinner tonight. Say, at eight?"

"Eight is good."

"Do you want me to send a car for you?"

"No," you reply. "I'll drive."

_____________________________________________________________

You're sitting across from Shuji, who is dressed in a pinstripe suit and wearing the same glasses as before.

He is handsome, you think to yourself, but it doesn't stop the way you nervously interact with him as he peruses the menu, cuts his fish, or asks you about your life.

"Y/n, have you ever thought about... quitting your job?" You shake your head immediately, thinking about all of the bills that would need to be paid and how much debt you'd rack up on credit cards. "You see, I'm looking for someone who is willing to be... somewhat of a comfort to me. You know, in the mundane things, like being there when I come home after work and allowing me to take them out on dates, or being my plus one to events where I'll be forced to interact with others."

"A girlfriend?"

"No," Shuji shakes his fork at you. "That's a level of commitment I cannot allow for myself. More like a younger, prettier beneficiary. It would come with perks, like bills being taken care of, a new wardrobe, a work-free lifestyle, travel, et cetera."

"Wait." You swallow your water with a hard gulp. "Like..." You scan the room for people who may be tuning into your conversation nervously. "Like a sugar baby?"

"Sure," Shuji answers, shrugging. "I mean, it's a lot of work - attending to my needs, that is. But I'll make sure you're well compensated."

"I..."

"Take some time to think about it. Oh, and by the way," The man slides you a thick envelope. "For tonight, as well as the tips I had to extort from the others. Go ahead and count it." You look through the money and realize that the hundred dollar bills add up to about three thousand dollars.

"Shuji, this is..."

"Fifteen hundred for your time, and fifteen hundred for your tips." You can't say anything else as you hold the envelope in your hand. However, Shuji continues to eat his meal, sipping at his water carefully. "What're you thinking?"

"Even if I say no, this money is mine?"

"Of course," he smiles. "Though it would be nice to take you home tonight."

It's only as Shuji is eating you out that you realize that you can officially quit your job. Not even with a two-week notice. You could call today and quit.

"Give me two weeks," you whisper, and Shuji hums, looking up at you and ceasing his movements.

"Two weeks for what?"

"My job."

"Oh," he chirps, smiling. "I expect nothing less from you, pretty girl." He hoists your legs up around his shoulders and dives back into your cunt, removing his glasses and slurping up your juices eagerly. You tangle your hands into his hair and moan loudly as he sends you right into your first orgasm of this little arrangement.

[separatist-apologist]

Part 7

I'm considering our little serial to be completed with this chapter. Thank you @forestwitch7 for the prompts, I enjoyed writing them. I was thinking we could continue our serials with a new prompt, and my asks are open if you want to see something that could be extended over the course of a week or longer. I do have a jealous Elain prompt (non-smutty) and a jealous Lucien prompt (smutty) that I want to complete, so if you're hoping to see either of those things, they are in the works.

As per usual, this is NSFW, 18+, edited with my eyes closed, and more soft than teasing. It's also the longest chapter thus far (as warning). These two dorks can't help themselves.

--

--

Elain was nervous when Lucien stepped into the River House, a stack of paperwork tucked beneath his arm. His eyes slid through the room, surveying the occupants without betraying his emotions. If he cared she sat there, needlework abandoned in her lap, he didn’t say. Rhysand met him just outside the hall and gestured for Lucien to follow. He left without a backwards glance. Starfall had happened weeks ago and though they’d had a nice night, he’d left the next day and hadn’t said a word since. She felt nervous and, if she was honest, a little hurt. It had been her first time being intimate with a man that way and she supposed she’d hoped he might…call on her that next day.

Take her on a real date. She’d fretted over his silence to the point of anxiety and now that he was back, she couldn’t untangle what it meant. Had he come to see her or for some urgent political matter that could not wait? Elain turned her thoughts over and over in her head until she was a mess. Feyre joined her, Mor at her side, the two unaware of Elain’s inner turmoil as they drank tea and discussed the previous evening at Ritas. Elain listened absently, letting herself tune out her own thoughts in favor of their excited gossiping.

“Elain?” Lucien’s voice cut through the chatter just as the sun began to set. All three women silenced, their eyes locked on his face. Besides Solstice, had anyone ever seen the two of them friendly in the same space? Judging from the surprise on both Mor and Feyre’s faces, Elain guessed not.

“Do you want to get dinner?” He asked smoothly, arms crossed over his hunter green jacket. His expression was almost a dare. Say no. Reject me in front of your family.

“Yes,” she replied, too breathless. No one in that room believed this was the first time he’d asked her to spend time with him after hearing her response. If there was any doubt, Elain knew she squashed it when she stood quickly, tossed her needlepoint onto the chair behind her, and walked confidently towards him. Lucien was smiling with such open affection it made her heart flutter.

She waited until they were out of the River House and walking down dark, paved streets before she asked, “Are we really getting dinner?”

“I do plan to eat,” he replied, causing her to flush. “Sorry I was gone for so long. There was a disturbance…but I thought I’d show you something.”

“Oh?” She asked, her heart pounding a near painful beat in her chest. Lucien only smiled, both eyes focused straight ahead.

He stopped her in front of a pretty brick building half covered in inching, leafy vines. Lucien pulled a silver key from his pocket, slid it into the door, and gestured for him to follow her. The interior was beige and housed two doors on either side of the walls, with a staircase leading up. Lucien walked her up two flights of stairs to the third floor and opened the door with a shiny number 7 hanging just above a peephole.

“I have an apartment in the city,” he told her with a wink, pressing a spare key into her hands. “I should have told you about it ages ago.”

“That’s okay,” she swore breathlessly, stepping inside. She wondered if Lucien had decorated it or if it came furnished. She supposed it musthave been him, given the rich oranges, browns, reds and yellows that stared back at her. It was very much an Autumn pallet, bright and lovely and put together by someone with an eye for art and fashion.

“You can come even if I’m not in the city,” he continued, walking her through the living room and down a hall where his bedroom lay. “If you ever need to get away…or you miss me.”

He said that last part like a joke. She opened her mouth to inform him she missed him all the time but got tripped up when her eyes fell on a huge, four poster bed hung with sheer white curtains. A bed. On the floor were dozens of fat red pillar candles and with a snap of his fingers, each sprang to life.

“You’ll get wax on the wood,” she whispered, frozen in the doorway.

“A small price to pay,” he shrugged, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You can say no, you know. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Elain nodded, her mind forcing her to compare the scene before her with her only other experience. The room had been dark and cold, sparsely decorated and entirely masculine. She’d just assumed that was the height of romance in the moment but even though Lucien’s room, too, was masculine, he’d softened it considerably with the candles and the draped curtains. Even the blankets were a soft brown with a cream-colored throw tossed over a corner, making his bedroom feel warm and inviting. She looked over her shoulder at him, unsurprised by the flame burning in that russet-colored eye. His gold eye was wholly fixed on her face, and she wondered if he could see past her flesh.

And though there had never been a choice in whether they would be together, hearing him tell her she could say no if she wanted, that he wasn’t in a hurry, did something to her. He made her feel seen, feel special.

Loved, even, though she was too afraid to admit that was what was happening out loud. What had started as her attempt to get Azriel’s attention, to distract herself from her own boredom, had become much, much more. She almost laughed at how different things were, how important Lucien had become to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck instead and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“I want it to be tonight,” she told him softly, her lips touching his as she spoke. Lucien smiled, his skin practically glowing.

“Good,” he replied, hoisting her off her feet and into his arms. “Because I’m tired of waiting.”

Lucien dropped her to his bed, climbing onto the mattress with her. Elain yanked down his neatly made blankets as Lucien shucked off his shoes, jacket, and shirt. Her fingers moved towards the buttons at the back of her gown but he stopped her.

“Let me,” he asked, his voice rough with desire. She nodded, nervous and excited, shivering when his hair brushed over her collarbone and his fingers slid down her spine, quickly undoing the buttons of her dress. She watched, eyes wide, as he slid the sleeves slowly down her arms, the skin of his hands rough against her own.

Lucien leaned back, shirtless and gleaming beneath the flickering candlelight, eyes reverent. “You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to brush her cheek. The way he looked at her and the way she spoke the words made her feel as though her value to him was not just her beauty.

“No, you,” she replied, pleased when a flush stained his golden cheeks. He smiled, charmingly embarrassed by the compliment, before going back to her under garments. She let him fully expose her, resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands as she looked at her again, his jaw slack and eyes wide just as he’d been when she’d come out on Starfall. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She wanted to tease him but something about his expression made her stop. Instead she settled back against the fluffy pillows on his bed and gestured for him to come to her.

He did without hesitation, his lips slotting between her own quickly. He poured all his unspoken words in the kiss as he settled between her body. She wanted to tell him, wanted to say the words but she was afraid she’d break the spell.

So she poured back. I love you. Don’t leave me again. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Lucien’s hips ground against her, proof of his want and Elain gasped as memory of his cock in her mouth flooded back. He was so very large, much bigger than Graysen had been. Would it hurt, she wondered, running her nails down his back.

“I can feel your thoughts,” Lucien gasped, nipping down the side of her neck. “I won’t hurt you.”

She frowned. Had he felt everything? “Yes,” he replied again, smiling against her skin. His fingers tweaked against her nipples, the sensation hooking roughly in her gut. He looked up, his face resting in valley between her breasts, his eyes impossibly soft. “I love you too, you know.”

She started to say it back, a giggle bubbling in her throat, but Lucien’s mouth clamped over one over sensitive nipple, and nothing felt funny anymore. Desire coursed through her veins, taking over her body just like the day he’d taken her in the garden. She felt needier now, desperate in a way she hadn’t then.

He surged forward again, kissing her hotly, his tongue messy against her own. It was a prelude to what he planned to do between her legs, and she wished he’d stop teasing her and get on with it. She was way too shy to just ask and when he broke the kiss, she whined, pushing his head down her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly, his breath warm on her cool skin. “Say please,” he whispered, rubbing the flesh of her thighs just close enough to the crease of her center without actually touching her. She lifted her hips and wondered if he’d deny her if she didn’t do as he asked.

“Please,” she begged, delighted at the groan that slipped from his throat.

“Embarrassing,” she teased, squirming against his fingers.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it, sweetheart,” Lucien crooned, lowering his mouth to her body. She squealed, delighted by both the nick name and how willing Lucien was to play along. Her thoughts vacated at that first swipe of his tongue, dragging her back to that place of limitless burning heat. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, his hair spread over his broad, muscular shoulders, one hand pressed against her lower abdomen to keep her pinned to the bed. His eyes were closed, the expression on the part of his face she could see utterly lost, as though he were experiencing some form of nirvana just by touching her. She could see his hips grinding against the bed in time with her own and she wished he wasn’t wearing pants. She wanted to see him fully undressed.

She felt electric beneath his touch, building up, up, upbefore she shattered around him with a scream and a fistful of his hair, forcing him to stay clamped between her trembling thighs. He didn’t stop, his tongue sweeping over her in quick, efficient circles until she was sobbing mess. She tugged and he came, his mouth covering hers with an intensity that excited her. She hooked her fingers in the waist of his pants and tugged.

“Impatient,” he tried to tease but the word was more groan. She watched him roll over and stand quickly to shuck off his pants.

“Wait!” She cried, drinking in the hard, naked, muscular body standing in front of her. Lucien shifted his weight from one foot the other other, his cock twitching beneath her gaze.

“Now who is beautiful?” She asked while he crawled back to her.

“Still you,” he promised, kissing her gently. She hesitated when she felt the crown of his cock notch against her entrance.

“Go slow,” she murmured. Though his expression seemed pained, Lucien nodded, his hair creating a curtain between the pair of them. She could pretend they were in their own little world where no one but them existed.

She sighed when he slid that first inch in, her body stretching but not in a painful way. It was pleasant and comfortable and by the time he was fully seated inside her, Elain regretted asking him to go slow. Lucien seemed to be strained above her, his body weight braced on his elbows beside her.

“Are you okay?” He gasped and she nodded, leaning up just enough to kiss him.

“You can move,” she told him with what she hoped was a sweet and not deranged smile. Lucien nodded, sliding himself out too slowly for her liking, grunting as he came back in. She let him for a moment, worried that perhaps he needed to prove to himself he wouldn’t hurt her, before she hooked her legs around him and drove her heels into his ass, forcing him to snap into her hard.

“Oh,” she gasped at the same time he did. “Again.”

Whatever leash Lucien held himself with vanished and Lucien thrust hard, the sound of their flesh meeting punctuating the silence around them. She was building again, writhing beneath him, doubly so when his hand snaked between them to rub quick circles over her already swollen clit. She was panting, begging.

“Harder,” she heard her voice plead, half stunned at the sound. “Don’t stop, Lucien, please.”

Lucien grunted again, sweat dripping down his back. “So fucking wet,” he groaned, the sound more animal than man. “So tight. Fuck, Elain—”

His words were drowned by the sound of her scream, so loud she was sure his entire building heard it. Lucien didn’t stop though the snarl that erupted from his throat made her shudder even as blinding white pleasure stole her last little sense of self. She was an extension of him and he the other half to her. Connected, Elain felt as though life suddenly made sense.

“Again,” Lucien demanded, somehow increasing his speed, pounding into her with an intensity that threatened to drive her mad. She was whimpering, her whole body overly sensitive beneath his hands. She moaned at the feel of one of his hands palming her breast, tweaking her nipples before gliding back to the quivering nub of flesh at her apex. “Again.”

And whatever it was that existed between them, the bond or their connected souls, made her desperately want to please him. She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood, her hips unable to keep up with the pace he’d set, her thighs still trembling from her last release. He didn’t let up, even in the wake of her pleas.

“Please, Lucien. Lucien, Luci—” Her climax was edged with pain, the scream hoarse. Lucien growled with pleasure, pumping once, twice, and then once more before he held himself over her, groaning loudly with his own release. She could hardly catch her breath, her vision spotted, her body utterly wrung out when he collapsed atop her, head buried in the crook of her neck.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, kissing along her jaw.

“No,” she whispered, her words threatening to turn to hysterical laughter. “You were perfect.”

His teeth tugged along her ear and though she was exhausted, more arousal speared through her.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, withdrawing himself from her body. She frowned, mewling with protest. Lucien merely smiled as he clambered from the bed, padded across the room, and returned with a warm rag to wipe her up with.

Elain propped herself up on her elbows to look at his flagging erection, his beautiful body, his absurdly lovely face. “I love you,” she said, tasting the words as she said them. Lucien beamed, seeming as though he were lit with some inner light only she could see. He tossed the rag back into the bathroom before joining her in the bed again. He dragged the blankets over them, cuddling her into his arms.

She smiled when he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” She admitted, snuggling closer into his chest. “But it can wait.”

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” “You,” she said without hesitation. “With me, all the time.”

His thumb stroked over her cheek. “Consider it done.”

[satanourunholylord]

Love and Love Making Among the Vikings

Below is an infodump post which focuses on these topics:

Courtship: The Viking Way

Good Personal Hygiene

Sex Before Marriage

Homosexuality being Acceptable (with limits)

Some Viking Marriage Customs That Survive Today

Viking Sexual Euphemisms

Acceptance of Adultery in the Viking Age

Viking Women Divorcing Their Husbands

Vikings in popular culture are often viewed as the brutes of the Dark Ages, robbing, raping and pillaging people and goods. However, an analysis of their personal lives shows a much different side. Family life was important to Norse men, and every proper, upstanding Viking aimed to marry and have children. And although their parents arranged their marriages, Norsemen liked to court their ladies- and made a special effort to impress them with their appearance.

As for Norse women, although they had to put up with their husband’s affairs with live-in mistresses, slaves and even other men, they had the right to divorce their partners for violence, neglect, and various sexually related issues. In fact, Norse customs of love, marriage, and sex set a high standard in their time- and some even survive to this day.

Courtship: The Viking Way

Courtship wasn’t strictly necessary in Norse culture as marriage was more about alliances than love. The prospective bride and groom’s families would command the negotiations, to create a match that would bind the two clans as allies – and sometimes end feuds. Many brides were promised as "peace pledges" to smooth troubled waters between rival families. Although the couple in question could voice an opinion, it was fair to say they had little choice but to go ahead with the match.

That didn’t mean there was no romance -but Norse men had to handle it carefully. If a potential groom was too slow in making advances to his prospective bride, the lady’s relatives could take this as a slight and seek blood vengeance. Eighteen courtships in the sagas ended in this messy fashion. On the other hand, it also didn’t pay to move too fast or stretch out the courtship too long. If the couple liked each other too much to wait for the wedding night, matters could become complicated by an unwanted pregnancy.

So attempts to cultivate what the Norse called ˜inn matki munr’ (‘the mighty passion’) were intricate and involved specific rituals. Meeting and talking was one way to forge a relationship. But some odd practices were also employed. For instance, if a girl wanted to show her man she liked him, she made him a shirt. As for Viking men, they would go out and handpick their lady a bunch of purple flowers- and then slap her around the face with it!

Love poetry, although a favorite of the Norse gods, was viewed with suspicion. In fact, Icelandic law forbade skalds to compose Mannsong, (‘maiden songs’) for women who were not married to them under the threat of outlawry or death. This suspicion came about because the Norse believed that the poems could act as spells to seduce and bind women. Worse still, such praises could suggest that the skald or his patron knew the lady more intimately than he should.

Even if they were not in love before the wedding, the couple would try and cultivate it afterward. Husbands would seat their wives next to them if they wanted to show affection. Couples could also express their closeness by sharing the same drinking horn. If a husband were feeling very affectionate, he would ˜put her on his lap’ where he and his wife could indulge in “kyssir hana’ – a kiss and a cuddle. Or he would put his head on her lap, and she would stroke his hair.

Good personal hygiene was a must

Central to making a good impression on a potential or actual partner was good personal hygiene and pride in one’s appearance. This practice applied to both men and women. Norse graves are packed with grooming essentials for the afterlife- regardless of whether they belonged to a man or a woman. Combs, toothpicks, tweezers and ear spoons were all familiar, demonstrating the Norse liked to be neat and tidy-and clean. The Arab, Ibn Fadlan may have felt horror at the Viking practice of sharing a communal wash bowl, but at least his Norse acquaintances washed their face and combed their hair daily.

In fact, the Norse were probably the cleanest people in the Dark Ages. According to the Saxon cleric, John of Wallingford, they bathed weekly, on a Saturday. Wallingford complained that this, and their habit of changing their clothes regularly, was to “ undermine the virtue of married women and even seduce the daughters of nobles to be their mistresses.” However, the Norse were not content merely to be neat and tidy. Ibn Fadlan also noted the Rus- Viking traders who occupied what is now modern Russia-favored bleaching their beards to a saffron yellow, using a strong lye soap.

This method was probably also used on the hair of men and women. Norse women would have been particularly keen on achieving the long, fair, shiny hair that was the feminine ideal, although the white skin that men also coveted was probably only managed by the wealthy. Men also favored long hair, as only slaves wore their hair close cropped. However, this did not mean they were unkept. Figurines show Viking men wearing their hair trimmed and their beards well groomed- either styled to a point or shaped as a goatee.

Finally, there was the question of clothing. When it came to making an impact, the Norse liked to dress to impress. As well as being clean, garments were brightly colored and adorned with the most costly array of jewelry you could afford. Cloak pins and arm rings all showed off status, impressing the object of your desire not only with your appearance but your wealth and prospects in life.

Sex before marriage was acceptable

It wasn’t always possible to marry the one you loved - or lusted after. The sagas make constant reference to “the illicit love visit.” In such cases, a young couple, forbidden from marrying would meet in secret. The sagas never mention sex occurring. However, it is highly unlikely the young man would risk a secret tryst simply to ˜talk’ to the object of his affections. The lovers, however, were said to ˜enjoy’ each other. A document detailing a wife’s dissatisfaction with her impotent husband because she couldn’t ˜enjoy‘ him suggests this is a term linked to sexual fulfilment.

Indeed, although female virginity was the ideal, it was just about acceptable for a woman to have had sexual relationships before her marriage-with certain provisos. First, she needed to have been discrete and not too prolific in her pre martial encounters. However, most importantly, she should not have had any children out of wedlock. This restriction was not for moral reasons. Illegitimate sons could become their father’s heirs- if he recognized them. Rather, society censured Illegitimacy because of the burden it placed on the maternal family, not because it was deemed wrong or shameful.

Illegitimate children were the responsibility of the mother’s family- and so a burden to it. It was they who ultimately supported the child. Even if the father acknowledged his child, he and his family were only obliged to provide two-thirds of its support. Worse yet, the mother probably lost all hope of marriage, as few men would want to take on the responsibility and expense of another man’s child. Thus her family would lose out further as she would gain no bride price and no family alliance. Thus chastity was often the safest bet.

For men, sex outside marriage posed no such strictures. They were free to indulge themselves however they pleased-as long as they submitted to marriage in the end. For to remain unmarried in Norse society was unacceptable. A man accused of shunning wedlock was said to be ˜fleeing from the vagina.’ Women who did the same were “fleeing from the penis.’ Such people risked becoming social outcasts because they were not fulfilling their ultimate role: the procreation of children for the survival of their families and society.

Homosexuality was acceptable- with limits

Pre Christian Norse views on homosexuality weren’t simple. On the face of it, Norse society accepted sexual relationships between men. However, there were restrictions. Firstly, such relationships could not interfere with any future or current marriage. So the man still had to marry- whatever his views on the opposite sex- and his wife and her family had to be prepared to ignore her husband’s male lover or lovers. It was most important that the man did not neglect his conjugal duties. He still needed to have sex with his wife.

More important was that no free Norse man was the passive partner in a homosexual relationship. Vikings would rape males and females when on raiding trips to shame, degrade and weaken them. To be penetrated was to be submissive. It was acceptable to gain pleasure from penetrating someone- but not from being penetrated yourself. One of the worst insults an enemy could hurl at a Norse man was “sordinn” (penetrated). Any man branded as such would fight to the death defend his honor. These conflicts led to Scandinavian law codes making such types of insult illegal because of the bloodshed, with the slanderer often outlawed- if the injured party didn’t kill him first!

However, if such abuse was believed or proven, it had grave consequences for the man in question. Although Norse myths tell of gods such as Loki and even Odin taking on a submissive role in sex, Norse mortal society did not tolerate passivity in men. The man in question would become a social outcast, branded "ergi” (unmanly). Such men were believed to lack the ability to be vital and virile members of society. They were deemed liable to be ineffectual as fathers and fighters- and as such of no use. Dominant homosexuals were quite another matter.

There is no mention of lesbianism in the tales. Nor are there any references in other Old Norse texts to female homosexual relationships, so we cannot gauge pre-Christian attitudes to female homosexuality. However, Icelandic Christian law suggests lesbianism did occur in Norse society. In the 12th century, Bishop Porlakr Porhallson decreed “if women satisfy each other they shall be ordered the same penance as men who perform the most hideous adultery between them or with a quadruped.”

The Eddas and some of the sagas also specifically mention Freja having sex with other women. In fact at a banquet Loki accused her of having slept all the other Aesir at one time or another, a claim which Freja never denied.

Some Viking Marriage customs survive today

The Norse held their weddings on a Friday, the day of Frigg, the goddess of marriage and fertility. The time of the year was also crucial. Late summer or autumn were the preferred times. This period of the year was harvest time, a time of abundance and plenty. A good supply of meat, fruit, and grain was essential to ensure an amply provisioned wedding feast.

One beverage was of particular importance. The ˜bridal ale’ was first consumed in a loving cup by the bride and groom at the marriage feast. The couple would use the mead-like brew to seal their union with a toast to Odin and Freya. The bridal ale was brewed with a good deal of honey, to ensure the fertility of the newlyweds. Their families gifted the couple with enough of this sweet beer to last them a month- a custom that gives us the modern term ˜honeymoon.’

Before the wedding, both bride and groom took a ritual steam bath. Although they did not wear special clothes for the wedding, both wore specific tokens on their special day. For the bride, this was a floral wreath upon her head. For the groom, it was a sword, purposely robbed from one of his family’s burial mounds (or an old family sword buried in a fake mound that he ritually disinterred.) This sword was presented to the bride at the exchange of vows, as a way of making her a custodian of his family line.

As is common today, the bride and groom exchanged rings- both finger rings and arm rings as they spoke their vows. Once the ceremony was complete, the “brud hlaup” occurred. This was a race run by both wedding parties to the feasting hall. Whoever arrived last served the ale. But before the bride could enter, she had to be escorted over the threshold by the groom. The Norse, like many pagan peoples, believed thresholds were dangerous places for in transition to a new stage in their life.

The groom would then thrust a new sword, a gift from his bride, into the central pillar of the house. The depth of the resulting cut was used to determine the success of their union. Then, after the feast, eight witnesses lighted the bridal couple to bed. The groom then removed the bridal wreath from the bride- a ritual deflowering before the real event.

Viking Sexual Euphemisms

The Vikings could be quite ˜direct’ about certain matters. However, they could also be rather coy about sex – or at least, so their stories suggest. The sagas had various ways to refer to sex that describe it in a rather round about way. A man about to have sex with a woman was said to ˜turn towards’ her, “laying his hand/arm/thigh ” on her. The rest was up to the audience’s imagination. However, what was clear was the man was in charge. He took the lead. His partner followed.

Once the action warmed up, the sagas implied the increased activity in similarly guarded terms. A couple in the throes of passion would ˜crowd together in bed” (hviluthrong) and ‘enjoy each other. ‘ If things were particularly raunchy, the tales would describe the man as enjoying a good old brolta a maga or ˜romp on her belly’ or describe the couple as ˜travelling together.” Once they had exhausted themselves, the couple spent the aftermath at ˜hvila meth henna ” (rest with her), or he would ˜amuse one’s self.’ This activity referred to him enjoying a quiet conversation or game of cards with his partner.

However, the everyday terms used by the Vikings were probably not quite so reserved, judging by sexual words they have bequeathed to modern times. The Old Norse ˜thviet’ for a cut or slit began life as a sexual euphemism for a particular part of the female anatomy. Gradually it evolved into the old English ˜thwat’ and later into the more familiar twat which is used today as a term of abuse. The same occurred with another Old Norse word for the female genitals “Kunta’.

However, not all euphemisms were this crude. In contrast to these rather basic sexual terms, the Old Norse for sexual desire was “munuth.” This word derives from the root word for love “mun‘ and that of thought or memory ˜hugr,’ making the sexual impulse a ˜love thought.’ So perhaps the Vikings could be romantic souls after all.

Adultery was acceptable for Viking men, but not their wives

Many Norse men adored their wives, judging by the last words of one man just before he was hung:

” Happy am I to have won the joy of such a consort; ” said the condemned man of his wife. “I shall not go down basely in loneliness to the gods of Tartarus. So let the encircling bonds grip my throat in the midst; the final anguish shall bring with it pleasure only, since the certain hope remains of renewed love, and death shall prove to have its own delights. Each world holds joy, and in the twin regions shall the repose of our united souls win fame, our equal faithfulness in love “(Saxo Grammaticus)

Sadly, however, not everyone practiced “faithfulness in love” The basic requirement of a Norse man was to produce children with his wife. He was not, however, obliged to be faithful. Norse men could keep concubines known as frilles – lower status women who they did not marry and who lived with the man and his wife. According to Adam of Breman, a man could keep as many frilles as he could afford. Society regarded any children from these liaisons as legitimate.

Norse men also kept bed slaves. These unfortunate women had little choice in whether or not they lay with their master. Nor was it a great advantage to be the master’s favorite. Ibn Fadlan described witnessing a Viking funeral where the favoured bed slave of the deceased man was killed to accompany him to the afterlife. However, the one taboo liaison for a Norseman was to lie with another man’s wife. For this, he could be fined or killed.

Wives, however, were expected to remain faithful, probably because of the possibility of falling pregnant with a child that was not her husband’s. It’s unlikely that every wife did remain constant. However, if anyone caught a woman being unfaithful, the penalties varied. At best, her hair would be cut off. At worst, she could be divorced or fined- or killed. Adam of Breman even states that she could be enslaved.

Viking women could divorce their husbands

Viking women may have had to put up with their spouse’s affairs. However, they didn’t have to put up with their husbands ‘until death‘. Although a Norse wife could not divorce her husband for being unfaithful, there were other circumstances where it was perfectly acceptable. If her husband hit her, a woman could fine him. If he abused her in front of witnesses, not only did the fine apply, but his wife could divorce him after the third blow.

There were also various sexual reasons why a wife could divorce a husband. Men who dressed in feminine clothing such as low cut shirts, for instance, could be cast off, as could those who were homosexual- even if they were the dominant partner. A wife could object to the lack of discretion in homosexual liaisons – or the attention they distracted from her relationship with her spouse. In each case, the now ex-wife could claim back her original dowry and any inheritances she received during the marriage.

Another, perhaps surprising reason for divorce was if a man did not satisfy his wife sexually. A man who had refused to have sex with his wife for three years could be set aside. Likewise, if he could not perform or was leaving his wife sexually unfulfilled, he was at risk of being divorced. For if a couple wasn’t having sex, they weren’t producing children. Also, an unhappy marriage bred bitterness and resentment that could boil over into violence and family feuds. So it was better for a sexually unsatisfied woman to look elsewhere for a partner.

Judging by the sagas, it was the women who generally instigated divorce. All that was required was for them to assemble witnesses, cite their reasons and declare themselves divorced. This had to occur three times: in their bedroom, in front of the house and before a public assembly. It was Norse women’s one significant freedom. For if they were to remain tied to one man, run his home and land and put up with his lovers, the least they could expect was satisfying sex life.

[cracker-box-palace]

i’m back again :) i was looking at the prompt list and was thinking of 11 with paul? (if you couldn’t tell he’s my fave so that’s why i always request him lol) everything else is up to you!! thank youuu!! :)

Hii!!!

Ok I was actually hoping somebody would request this one with Paul or else I was just going to go ahead and do it myself so THANK YOU SO MUCH 💕

And for anybody else, here is a prompt list, courtesy of @beatle222

Prompt #11: “I saw it and thought of you”

Happy Birthday

Summary: Paul knows just what to get you on your birthday.

As Paul stands modestly by the far side of your shared living room, leaning his back against the wall and nodding politely to anyone who looks over, his eyes dart restlessly around the crowd, trying desperately to find somebody. Behind his back, his hands clasp a small rectangular box, wrapped tightly in crisp red paper with a large yellow bow taped right in the middle. He bites the insides of his lips to keep an anticipated smile off his face, and his hands tighten on the box he had worked so hard to wrap just perfectly.

You spy him from across the room, and part through the sea of people congratulating and complimenting you to sneak up beside him. You tap him on the shoulder when you finally reach him, earning a small, startled jump from the man. He whips his head around to meet your sparkling eyes, and a smile immediately spreads across his face.

“Happy birthday, Luv,” he says through his grinning teeth, bringing you in by the waist with one arm to plant a quick kiss on your cheek. You laugh, slightly embarrassed and with cheeks most likely blushing a soft red.

You had both planned on a quiet, intimate evening just the two of you to celebrate your birthday, mostly because Paul knew how much you hated large crowds and a lot of attention. All you wanted was this; you and him, blocking out everything else and not needing to pay attention to anything but each other. Him treating you like a princess, and laughing when you smiled sheepishly. Of course, you had enjoyed the party that your friend had decided to throw for you, but you would have given it all up for just one more minute with him. Besides, the party would be just fine without you.

When you pull away, his excited eyes, seeming to struggle to contain his bursting happiness, still stay glued to yours, and his teeth are biting down on his full, smiling bottom lip. You can tell by that look that he’s up to something.

“What?” You ask with a smile, and he immediately caves, knowing he can’t fool you. He gives a sly side-glance towards the crowd, making sure nobody’s watching, before letting the smile consume his face and taking your hand. He turns, bringing his other hand smoothly in front of him as he walks, and leads you briskly into a smaller, cozier sitting room, closing the windowless French doors behind you. He motions to a cozy love seat on the other side of the room with his eyes, and you move to sit right in the middle of it. Walking towards the couch still facing you, it’s clear that there is something concealed behind his back, and when he sits down beside you, he brings the small package around to rest it on his lap. He scoots himself closer towards you, so close your thighs are touching, and you feel him almost trembling with excitement. He fidgets with the bow and paper covering the box on his lap, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Happy birthday,” he says once again, this time quieter, more meaningful. He places the gift in your hands, and then waits impatiently as you peel back the shiny paper. Underneath is a plain brown box, rectangular and a bit long, and as you begin to pull the top off Paul drapes his strong, pleasantly heavy arm around your shoulders.

You throw aside the cardboard lid, and Paul takes the garbage paper as you sift through the frilly sea of white tissue. Folded neatly and with immense precision, the overhead lights glinting off the thin silver rims, is a beautiful, shiny pair of sunglasses, with amazingly clean and pristine lenses tinted a pale blue. Your first thought is that they very closely resembled a pair you had seen him wearing a few weeks ago, and complimented him on. You had no idea that he had remembered, or even known in the first place just how much you had loved them. He must have spent hours looking for them, and quite a bit of money, too. When you look over at him, his face has finally let the smile he had been concealing break through, and you lean in for a quick, grateful kiss.

They look so thin, so clean and delicate, you almost feel wrong picking them up out of their box. You hold them out in front of you, looking at the small circular shapes of the room that they turn a light blue, and you let out a sigh of happiness.

“How did you know?” You mutter in astonishment. He huffs a satisfied laugh at how happy he had made you.

“I just saw them and thought of you,” he says, with a knowing wink. “Go ahead.” He motions towards the glasses with his head, and you giddily slide them on. Your eyes refocus on Paul once more, this time his face tinted a beautiful blue as it beams lovingly at you. He brings a hand up, delicately placing his fingers on the rims and straightening them. His hand lingers a bit by your head.

“I love them,” you say with a grin. He pulls you in with his arm that still rests around you for a tight hug, and plants a soft, tender kiss on your cheek. You decide to keep the shades on the rest of the night, earning plenty compliments and passing a grateful look towards him with each one.