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Why Copper Bottles Make the Perfect Gift for Health-Conscious IndividualsÂ
When it comes to thoughtful gifting, few items combine utility, elegance, and wellness as seamlessly as a copper bottle. With growing awareness around sustainable living and holistic health, copper bottles have become an increasingly popular choice for health-conscious individuals. Here, weâll explore why gifting a copper bottle could be the perfect choice for anyone prioritizing their health and well-being.
1. Health Benefits of Drinking Water from Copper Bottles
Copper bottles offer a unique way of naturally infusing water with beneficial copper ions. Storing water in a copper bottle overnight or for several hours allows a small quantity of copper to dissolve into the water, a process known as âoligodynamic effect.â This effect has been appreciated in Ayurvedic and holistic practices for centuries and provides several health benefits, including:
Boosting Immunity: Copper is known to ahave antibacterial, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory properties, which can help strengthen the immune system.
Supporting Digestive Health: Drinking copper-enriched water can help improve digestion by killing harmful bacteria in the digestive tract.
Improving Joint Health: Copperâs anti-inflammatory properties can be particularly beneficial for those with arthritis or joint pain.
Promoting Skin Health: Copperâs antioxidant properties help combat free radicals, which can reduce signs of ageing and promote clearer, more radiant skin.
These health benefits copper bottles a unique gift choice for someone who values natural wellness.
2. Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Choice
Unlike plastic bottles, copper bottles are eco-friendly, reusable, and have a significantly longer lifespan. By gifting a pure copper bottle, you are encouraging a move away from disposable plastics, supporting a more sustainable and environmentally friendly lifestyle. Health-conscious individuals are often environmentally conscious too, and this gift aligns with their values by reducing waste and promoting sustainable practices.
3. Natural Water Purifier
Copper has been used as a water purifier for centuries due to its antibacterial properties. It has the ability to eliminate harmful bacteria such as E. coli and S. aureus, making it a natural purifier. For those who are particular about drinking clean, chemical-free water, a copper bottle is an ideal gift. Unlike plastic or metal bottles that may alter the taste of water or leach harmful chemicals, copper only enhances the taste, providing a refreshing experience with every sip.
4. Aesthetic and Elegant Design
Copper bottles come in a variety of designs, from sleek modern finishes to traditional hammered patterns. They are visually striking and add a touch of elegance to any kitchen or dining setup. For those who enjoy high-quality, artisan-crafted items, a copper bottle is not only functional but also beautifully designed. This makes it an appealing gift for anyone who appreciates aesthetic appeal and unique design.
5. Easy to Maintain
Another reason copper bottles make a fantastic gift is that they are relatively easy to care for. With simple maintenance routines, such as cleaning with lemon juice or vinegar, the bottle stays looking like new. This is especially suitable for busy individuals who want something both health-conscious and low-maintenance.
6. Promotes a Hydration Habit
Gifting a copper bottle also helps cultivate a healthy hydration habit. Health-conscious individuals often pay close attention to their hydration, as it is essential for overall well-being. A dedicated bottle that not only stores water but also improves its quality can serve as a gentle reminder to stay hydrated throughout the day.
7. Symbol of Health and Wellness
Copper bottles have been used in traditional Indian and Ayurvedic practices for centuries as a symbol of health and holistic wellness. For those who appreciate gifts with meaning, a copper bottle represents more than just a water container; it is a connection to ancient health practices and a reminder to embrace natural living.
Conclusion
For anyone who prioritizes health, wellness, and sustainability, a copper bottle is more than just a practical itemâitâs a meaningful, eco-friendly, and aesthetically pleasing gift that aligns with their lifestyle values. The health benefits, coupled with the natural appeal of copper and its environmental impact, make it a thoughtful present that will be appreciated for years to come. Whether for a birthday, holiday, or just as a token of appreciation, a copper bottle is a gift that truly keeps on giving.
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Sweaty Sessions
We all saw the gym pic Alexia put in her insta post, so of course I had to do a story of her in the gym.
@copper-16 I hope you enjoy the hip thrusts! đ€€ @codiemarin thank you for jumping in and giving me a detailed picture to write đ„” đŠ and @lucyandalexiafan thank you for always helping me with everything I write! â€ïž Sorry if it feels a little rushed.
Warning - smut 18 plus, strap, restraints, fingering,
Barcelonaâs sun was extra hot today, you could feel the sweat dripping down your back as you rounded the corner to your house. You let out a puff of air as you dropped your keys in the bowl next to the front door. You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror after your run, your face was sweaty, your cheeks were red and your baby hair was starting to curl. The built-in AC was a welcome on your damp skin.
âAle, Iâm home.â You called out, but got no response.Â
You walked into the back of the house, knowing your girlfriend would be in her favourite room.Â
You took your headphones out as you approached the door to your shared home gym. You could hear the familiar sounds of her heavy panting before you had even turnt the corner. You couldn't ignore the way it made your pussy flutter.
You spotted your girlfriend in the middle of her daily work out. You had seen the sight before, more times then you could count, but that didn't mean it ever got old, the view of Alexia working out never got old. In all honesty the mouth watering sight alone could get you wet if you watched her long enough, especially when the only items she wore were a sports bra and red gym shorts.
You slowly sneaked into the kitted out gym room, the heat in the room hit you straight away, it felt like a sauna. It was the only room where the AC wasnât working, the repair guy was coming next week to fix it.Â
The blonde was in the middle of her hip thrusts, she hadn't noticed you come in, she had her headphones on, and her eyes closed as she concentrated on the heavy weight bearing on her hips, her deep breathing went in time with her motion. Your eyes greedily roamed her sweaty body, as her abs flexed with her movements.
You shook your head at the girl, only Alexia would work in a hot box for a room, the girl never missed her workouts for anything.
The music in her ears suddenly stopped. Her hazel eyes opened in confusion, a cute frown knitted between her eyebrows until she saw you. She gave you a quick smile, clearly still in the zone of her workout.Â
You eyed the plates on the metal bar, the weight combined was heavier than you, a stark reminder of the kind of power the girl possessed. Though you were reminded most nights when she had her way with you. Just the other night the blonde had you pinned to the wall, her strong arms held you up as she fucked you so effortlessly with her strap.
You smiled back at her, your mind was already filled with filthy thoughts, but you couldn't help it, not when she moved her hips the way she did. Her hips thrusted hard, as she pushed the heavy bar in the air, you felt your pussy squeeze as you watched her muscles flex again and again, her sweaty skin looked incredibly edible.
You flinched as she dropped the weight, the heavy clanking of the metal brought you back from your dirty day dream.
âHola, baby. How was your run?â She breathed.
âIt was good, thank you. How's your training going? Are you finished?â You asked with hope in your voice but you already knew the answer.
âNo, Iâm half way.â She chuckled.
You pouted as you stood over her. You rolled the bar down her legs, she eyed you as she took a drink from her bottle, the blonde could already read your mind. You lowered yourself on top of her hips, in a squat-like position.Â
âI bet you canât do a hit with me on top.â
She wiped her wet lips as she smiled at your attempt to goad her.
âAt least try and give me a challenge when trying to distract me, amor. Come, let me finish. Iâll be done soon.âÂ
She patted your leg to move, You pouted again, giving her your best puppy eyes, she playfully rolled her own, smiling at your sulky face.
âThree thrust, then I train, okay?âÂ
âOkay.âÂ
Her warm hands grabbed your bare sides as she easily raised you off the floor with her movements, you felt your cunt flutter as her hard abs pressed into your core, just slightly giving you a little bit of friction, But she didn't stick to her own words as she thrusted again, and again, her hands squeezed your skin, holding you in place.Â
You could tell she was counting, she had clearly made a bet in her own head to get to a certain number, the competitiveness never stopped with this girl, even if it was with herself. You couldnât hold back the giggles as she smiled at you. You held on to her shoulders as she pushed into you, easily lifting you up and down, her fingers flexed around your skin, making your stomach flutter.
A small gasp escaped your lips at a particularly hard thrust from the girl below. You bit your lip as your clit pressed just perfectly against her firm body, your hips naturally moved against her, wanting more friction.
She felt you move, she heard the gasp, a knowing smirk crept on her perfect face. You could feel yourself getting wet, the movement was sexual, there was no two ways about it. You had been in this very position only this morning, when Alexia decided she wanted you to ride her fingers.Â
But once again your filthy thoughts were interrupted.
â20. Done. Now let me train.â
âMake it 30.âÂ
She chuckled. âNo amor, let me finish, then you can have me.â
You tried to do your best pout again even adding a small roll of your hips, hoping the move would persuade her.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she felt you, the fingers on your sides tightly squeezing again. You took that opportunity to lean into her hot body, your lips traced her sweaty neck, you could taste the salt from her sweat on your lips. You dragged your tongue just below her ear, smiling when she made a small gasp of her own. You captured her ear gently between your teeth, giving her another sinful roll of your hips.
âPlease baby. I want you.â You purred.
Her hips jolted up, you couldn't help but feel slightly proud of yourself as her normally strong resolve started to break. But just as you thought you had won you were being lifted into the air. Your face was met with Alexias back as she easily flung you over her shoulder, like some kind of cave woman.
âAle!â
Moments later you were set back on your feet, standing next to the pull up station. The next couple of seconds were a blur. Her movements were quick, one minute you were dry humping your girlfriend, the next your arms were being pulled behind your back and were being tied up by the rubber bands that were attached to the bars above.
You felt the rubber around your wrist, you tried to pull at it but it was no use. You shouldn't have been too surprised that the girl was able to tie you up so effortlessly, she loved having you tied up in your sexual activities, she could make restraints out of almost anything, but you had never thought your resistance bands would be used on you.Â
She smirked as she pulled the bands, making sure you couldn't escape. A harsh tug brought you closer to her face. Her lips ghosted your own.
âAs you canât be good and keep your hands to yourself, you can wait.â She smirked as she pressed her lips onto yours.Â
Your mouth gaped open in disbelief, she gave your arse cheek a hard slap before she walked back to the equipment.Â
âNo, Ale please! Iâll be good.â You cried out.
But it was no use, her face was already back in focus mode. You groaned as you watched Alexia completely ignore your presence and settle back into her hip thrust position, your complaints falling on deaf ears.Â
So you stood there. Staring at your girlfriend as she thrusted the heavy bar in the air. You tugged at the band once again, trying to free yourself but it was hopeless. You would just have to wait and watch, but at least the view was a good one.
Alexia was in the zone, she concentrated on her work out, finally finishing her remaining reps. As she stood you noticed her arms looked extra hard, you weren't sure if she was tensing or the girl had just gained more mass. But you were going to be a brat about it.
âAre you really going to leave me like this? Make me watch your work out? As if I'm impressed?â
She laughed out loud, wiping her sweaty forehead, but she didnât respond. She picked up some more plates from the rack. She held the weight near her core, and pushed it on the bar in the most sexual manner, her eyes watching you as she did.Â
You rolled your eyes and looked away, but only for a second, you weren't about to let your pride get in the way of watching your girlfriend be a cocky dick, it was frankly the hottest thing on earth, but you weren't going to tell her that and let her ego grow even more.
Once she was finished with her peacocking, she moved to lay on the bench, lifting the bar with an eye watering amount of weights attached, but of course she only made it look easy.Â
You felt no better than a man as you watched the blonde working out, I mean, she was your girlfriend, you were allowed to watch, you were being made to watch, but you wanted to touch her, especially when she started to make those stupidly sexy grunting noises.Â
The grunts she let out was the same grunts you heard in your ear many a night, the same delicious groans that dripped from her mouth when she held you down and fucked you until she came on the base of her strap, grunting while she was deep inside you.
You caught your lip between your teeth, the heat between your legs was rising, your mind was clouded with images of Alexia, thinking about all the ways she would fuck you, use you, make you scream untill your voice was hoarse. The sound of a loud groan made your eyes flutter and your knees weak.Â
Alexia finished her reps with the chest press and moved over to the weights on the stand, not once did she look at you. She took out a 20kg kettlebell and began her kettlebell swings. It was no secret that the girl was fit, she did two workouts a day, everyday, plus training, plus running and everything else in between, but she still impressed you every time you watched her, the girl was a beast.Â
The blonde had almost forgotten you were there. She was mid lift when she caught you watching her in the floor length mirror. A coy smirk creeped on her lips at the angry yet horny look that sat on your face. She loved the fact that you were watching her, even if you had no choice in the matter. Though she knew you were enjoying the view, she just wanted to have a little fun with it.
She panted hard as she got to the last set, her cheeks hollowed out and her sweaty chest rose in time of her breathing, her goddess-like body was something of dreams.
You could really feel the heat between your legs now, a dull ache throbbing your core, you had never been so turned on and frustrated at the same time. Your thighs began to clench as you watched your very fit but very annoying girlfriend work out in front of you. you couldn't ignore the ache in your cunt anymore
âYouâre loving this aren't you?â You raised your eyebrow at the blonde.
She chuckled as she returned the weight on the rack. She took another sip from her bottle before facing you.
âSĂ. I am. You should have been patient, baby.âÂ
You rolled your eyes. The girl could be such a fucking tease.
She walked towards you with a cocky smirk on her face.Â
âAh don't be like that, amor. I know you enjoyed the view.âÂ
âWould be better if I was allowedâŠâ
Your sentence died in your throat. The blonde turned her back to you, you thought she was done with the conversation but you watched as she slowly started to stretch. Right in front of you. She bent straight over, touching her toes with ease. Her arse strained against the tiny shorts, giving you a perfect view of one of your favourite body parts. She was clearly trying to kill you.Â
âAlexiaaaa. Please. This isn't fair.â You cried out.
She laughed loudly as she straightened herself up. Your eyes roamed her wet, muscular body, she was covered in a sheen of sweat, even her top lip was wet.Â
You didn't know why but it was something that turned you on to no end. Seeing Alexia like this, all worked up, hot and sweaty made you clit throb. Maybe because it was a similar sight to when she fucked you.
âYou can wait a little more.â She pulled the rubber band once more, making you jolt.
Before you could reply she was walking out of the gym.
âAle! Where are you going? You can't just leave me!â
She ignored your calls once again. You huffed in annoyance, pulling at the arm band one more, but the tight rubber only pulled on your skin. The room was unbearably hot, your patience was wearing thin, especially as it was at least 5 minutes before she came back.Â
âAle, what the fuck you c-canât âŠâ Your words stuttered on the tip of your tongue.
Alexia stood at the gym door wearing nothing but her favourite strap. The big strap.
âWhat was that sweetheart?â
You gaped at her, your mouth was suddenly dry. The sheer cockyness that dripped from the gril was spinning your head. The look she gave you was predatory, she stalked slowly over to you, you suddenly felt like a lamb who was about to be devoured by the lion
âHmm? You seemed so impatient. I think you need somethingâŠ. Big. Donât you think?âÂ
âN-no. I jus- ahhh.â
Your head was suddenly yanked back, Alexia had a vise-like grip of your hair, making you cry out.
âGet on your knees.âÂ
You knelt to your knees, while Alexia kept her grip on you.
âOpen your mouth.â
And like the good girl you were, you opened your mouth. She slid her dick in gently, but it didnât stop you from gagging as it got halfway. You didnât normally use this strap for oral, it was too big, but clearly Alexia wanted to prove a point with your lack of patience.
âGo slow.âÂ
You did go slow, but the tears sprung to your eyes just as quickly. She slowly pressed her hips to your face, the pressure on your throat was a lot, but it only built the pressure between your legs.Â
âKeep going, you can take it.â
Your eyes closed as the tears ran down your cheeks. Her hand in your hair guiding you until your nose pressed against her firm stomach.
âThat's it, your mouth is better when it's used for this, no?â She smiled down at you.
You opened your eyes, looking at the goddess above you. She wiped your tears with her free hand, it was a soft getsure considering her bravado was out in full swing. She cupped your chin as she pulled back, then slowly back in. The pace was slow but the spit in your mouth gathered fast, as the thick strap filled your throat.Â
You stayed on your knees for a couple more minutes as Alexia fucked your throat with the biggest strap you owned. You kept your throat as relaxed as you could, as she watched you take her, her own cunt throbbing.
âGet up.â Alexia snapped. She gently pulled the strap out of your mouth.
You didn't have a chance to move before she easily picked you up to your feet. Her sheer strength showing itself again.Â
She roughly turned you around, pulling your back against her chest. You let out a gasp as her teeth sunk into your shoulder.
âYouâve become very impatient, baby. Have you lost all your manners?âÂ
Her mouth started to suck where she bit you, her strap pressing into you as you let out a groan. She had a tight hold of your wrist behind your back, you couldnât move with the grip she had on you.Â
Another yelp escaped your mouth as her hand pulled at your hair.Â
âHmm?âÂ
âNo. I-I just want you.â Â
You felt her full lips smile against your skin as she gave you a gentle kiss.Â
âBut you were acting like a brat, I do not reward brats.â
âIâm sorryyyy.â
Another bite, another mark.Â
âLetâs see what a spoilt little brat looks like while she gets fucked.âÂ
Before you could ask what she meant you were being pushed as close as she could get you to the floor length mirror. You were now only an arm length away from your reflection. You suddenly realised what she meant as you watched a sadistic smile creep on her face behind you.Â
Her hands started pulling at your own shorts, roughly yanking them down to your ankles, bringing your underwear with it. Leaving your top half only in your sports bra.Â
âWhereâs all that talk now, baby?â
You jumped when you felt her fingers slide against your wet lips.Â
She scoffed when she felt how wet you were. âYou clearly enjoyed watching me. So messy, amor.â She purred in your ear. âYou enjoy watching me donât you?â
You nodded, your eyes closed as you saw yourself in the mirror, not able to escape the way you melted into her hot body.Â
âOpen your eyes.âÂ
You did what she said, you weren't about to be a brat with that tone. You saw yourself half naked in the mirror. Alexia was holding your wrist behind your back, as if you would try to escape. Her hazel eyes were on yours, watching you like you were the most beautiful creature in the world.
Two long fingers slid between your lips and circled your throbbing clit. You let out a quiet gasp, your eyes closed as she touched you with light but perfect touches. But your hair was being pulled once more.
âClose your eyes again and Iâll stop.â She whispered harshly in your ear.
âIâm sorry.â You whispered as her fingers gathered your wetness.
âYou will be.â Her teeth sunk into your neck as those long fingers easily entered your cunt.
You let out a loud gasp, Alexia had thick fingers, the strength of them alone was sometimes harder to take than a strap.Â
âSo tight.â She hissed, her breath tickling your hot neck.Â
But before you could enjoy her fingers for much longer she removed them, her hand was on your neck, pushing you forward and her fingers sunk into your core from the back. Your face was inches from the mirror, your reflection clear as day.
âFuck.âÂ
The new angle was tighter, but felt so much better. Her fingers in your cunt pushed in and out slowly, knowing exactly how to pull the cute noises she loved so much. Her talented fingers stroked your walls with perfect precision, you could feel yourself becoming wetter, you could even hear yourself getting wetter against her movements.Â
But as soon as she got into a rhythm her fingers were gone, again. You were about to complain and ask why she had stopped, but you were silenced when you felt the head of her strap pushing against your lips.Â
âAle, please.â
âDo you think you have any say right now?â She chuckled deeply behind you.Â
That same tone came out to play, it was the tone that you should know better than to open your mouth with. Your skin was hot, but the shivers that creeped on your skin would argue that fact, her stern voice had visibly affected you, and Alexia didn't miss it. Her free hand pushed on your shoulder, bending you right over, until your back was flat. Her fingers traced down your back, catching the dampness of your skin.
âKeep it straight.âÂ
That same tone came out to play, it was the tone that you should know better than to open your mouth with. If it wasnât for the position you were in you might have been bold and shot back a sarcastic jab of your own. And maybe it was the frustration of having been tied up for over 20 minutes or the thick heat from the room that made your brain short circuit and fry, because you in fact did reply with a sarcastic jab.
âI've had to wait this long, now I have to bend over? I hope it's worth it.â You whispered, loud enough for her to hear.
You saw Alexia's face harden in the mirror, the grip she had on your wrist tightened as the head of her strap began to push into your core. You gritted your teeth as the plastic began to stretch you out, a loud groan escaped your throat, feeling the strap sliding inside of you. Even though she had her fingers in you just moments before the tight stretch was still there. Â
You felt every inch of the strap, no matter how slow she went, the pressure of it made you hold your breath. She was slow as she pressed in, but even with gentle movements the girth took your breath away with the sheer size of it. You felt full.
Finally, you felt the sticky skin of her thighs pressing against yours, as she bottomed out in you, but before you could allow your body to get used to the fullness of her strap, she began to ease out of you. Normally the Spaniad would allow you to get used to the feeling of her inside, she would let you take her inch by inch and get used to the thickness. But you had quite frankly pissed her off with your little comment. You whimpered as her hips began dragging the strap against your tight walls, pulling herself completely out. The tip of her dick now kissed at your lips.Â
It was when her hand gripped tightly on your shoulder you knew your cocky attitude was about to be fucked right out of you.
You were expecting it but you also wasn't. With one quick thrust of her hips she was back inside you. The next sound that escaped your mouth was indescribable, it was loud, it was dirty, it was completely pornagraphic, and it was music to Alexia's ears. Her pace was fast as soon as she started. Your mouth gaped open as she rocked her hips into you, causing your whole body to move from each strong thrust. Your legs were holding you up but it was the grip that she had on your shoulder that stopped you from falling over.Â
Each quick thrust pushed a loud whimper from you, her pace was vicious. Your head fell forward, not able to keep it up from her brutal pace.Â
âUh ah. Head up, I want you to see how brats get fucked.â
Alexiaâs hand gripped onto the ends of your hair, jerking your head up, causing you to let out a long pathetic whine. You felt your core tighten as you were met with the most animalistic scene in front of you. It was a mass of sweaty bodies, Alexia's toned figure rutted hard against you, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against the other bounced off the walls as her thighs slapped against yours.Â
Your sweaty wrist rubbed against the rubber bound behind your back while she had you bent over, very much enjoying the view of her strap sliding in and out of your cunt. The smile on Alexia's face was dirty, it made your core tighten around her strap, you were at Alexiaâs complete mercy and fuck, did it feel good.
The hot air in the room suddenly felt thicker as the oxygen from your lungs were forced out of you. The strength in her thrusts were almost painful, but Alexia knew you could take it, she knew your body and mind, she knew you would stop her if you had to, but there was no thought in your mind of uttering anything of the sort.Â
The moisture from your breath started to steam up the reflective glass in front of you, as you let out small whimpers. You knew it was self indulgent but you didnât hate catching glances of yourself being fucked, the sight before you was sinful, especially when you had someone like Alexia to watch.
âFuck, you feel so good.â You cried out.
You could feel your orgasm building, your legs and stomach muscles started to ache from the obscene position you were in, you weren't sure how long you would last like this, but you had a feeling Alexia wouldnât care. You knew you would have pissed her off with your comment, and thatâs exactly what you wanted, a pissed off Alexia.
Alexiaâs mouth hung open as she felt her clit rubbing perfectly against the base of her strap, she started to pick up her pace chasing her own orgasm. The change of pace sent a wave of pleasure through your body, your cunt throbbed from the relentless thrusts of the girl behind you.Â
âYes, yes, donât stop.â You breathed out.
Alexia bit her lip as she felt her pleasure building, the sounds of your moaning made her head dizzy with power. She picked up to a piston whip speed. Your mouth fell open as your body was forced to take Alexiaâs new pace, you weren't even able to make any sounds from the sheer force of her hips. You felt your climax prickerling your body, the hot sweat that sat on your skin suddenly felt cold as the starts of your orgasm creeped through.Â
The grip on your shoulder tightened, Alexia let out a deep throaty moan, you knew she was close, you watched as the muscles in her arms flexed, straining against her sweat covered skin. Your eyes followed her naked body, her muscles flexing as she drove into you, the wet slaps of sweaty skin colliding.
Your legs started to give in as your orgasm began to wash over you, your muscles were already jelly from your run, you felt your knees buckle as your pleasure took over.Â
âAle!â You cried out.
She felt your body giving up. She pulled you straight up, your back hitting her chest. You let out a high moan as her lips crashed into your sweat covered neck, kissing and sucking on your skin.
âI've got you.â
Her hips kept up the bruising pace, she was still chasing her own orgasm, it almost became too much, the pleasure was about to become painful until she groaned in your ear. That very familiar groan that made your head dizzy. Her hands wrapped around your neck, bringing your lips together, it was messy and hungry, your wet lips smacking against the other as her hips started to rut into you.
âFuck.â She gasped.
Her normally stern face became a blissed out state as her orgasm hit her. Your eyes rolled into your head as small but heavy grunts escaped her mouth, making your clit throb. Her lips pressed into your neck as she slowly grinded into you, her hot body pressed up against yours taking what she needed.Â
The hot room was just small sounds of your panting. She gently pulled out of you, her lips kissed your shoulder sweetly, causing you to shiver.
âYou okay?âÂ
You smiled at her soft voice, a complete 360 of your session before.
âIâm so good. But I need a shower. A cold one.â You chuckled.
âSĂ. Shower together?â She nuzzled into your neck. She was always so needy after an orgasm, it was the cutest thing to see.
âTogether.â You pressed your lips to hers.
She began to to remove the harness from her hips.
"Don't forget me." You turned so she could until you.
"Hmm, I think I prefer you this way. Can we keep you like this until I'm done with you." She bit she shell of your ear, making you groan.
"Are you not done with me?" You moaned with pleasure as her nails scratched up your body.
"Not yet, I think we should test your endurance a little more."
#woso#woso fanfics#woso smut#barca femeni#alexia putellas x imagine#alexia putellas smut#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas
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SITTING PRETTY: LUFFY x Y/N
(cw: alcohol, kitsune, east blue crew, yes i was imagining the opla cast but so were you, kissing, sitting in someoneâs lap)
(a/n: this was so fun. smut maybe coming soon? weâll see)
Songs: âHotelâ by Claire Rosinkranz
words: 1.2k
Luffy is staring at you.
Heâs sitting across the campfire from you, sipping a glass of milk through a straw. You have your own moscow mule in hand, the copper mug sweating with cold condensation.
The air smells like smoke.
âSo!â Luffy speaks, twirling his straw around in his drink. He slurps it loudly before continuing, âLetâs play a game!â
He smiles around at the rest of the crew, who are all in their own various states of intoxication. Itâs been a long night, after several days at sea with no islands in sight. Everyone is a little bored, a little stressed, and more than a little in need of blowing off some steam. Nami shrugs.
âSure, captain. Whatâs up?â
Luffy leans forward, wicked smirk painting his charming features. You stare down into your melted ice and muddled mint leaves.
âLetâs play truth or dare!â
Zoro sighs, but leans forward too. Sanji and Usopp also perk up. The Merry creaks in the waves as she sails. The ocean laps at her sides, soothing and peaceful in the summer night air. The campfire sparks up with a flare.
Luffy slurps his milk.
âWhat are the stakes?â Nami asks, adjusting in her seat, her boots slung over one another as she leans back. Usopp is fiddling with his slingshot.
Zoro shrugs, âDrink if you wonât take a dare, drink twice if you wonât take a truth.â
âSo, weâre trying to outmatch each other? Get stuff we wonât wanna do?â
âSorta,ïżœïżœïżœ Zoro says, âSâalright with everyone?â
âSounds fun,â you admit, downing your glass before handing it off to Sanji. Heâs a sucker for your sparkly eyes and fluffy tails. Your ears flick back and forth, excited. Nervous.
Sanji hurries back with a refill.
He straightens his suit jacket before sitting back down. The indigo night washes over him with a flattering, velvet softness. You wonder what shade of blue his eyes are, up close.
Luffy clears his throat.
âSooo, who wants to go first?â His shining eyes scan the crew, and you flick up a tail (or two). He smiles, and takes a sip of his kidâs drink.
You sigh. âTruth,â you say, staring at Nami. You figure sheâs gonna strike the worst, so might as well get it over with first. She stares at you, flicking her eyes up and down your scrappy frame. She arches an auburn brow.
âSo, Kitty,â she sips her cider, and Sanji shifts in his seat. âHave you ever had sex before?â
Sheâs smiling, devilish, as you snort through your drink. She laughs as you cough, orange hair swaying in the soft breeze. Everyone else stutters and laughs, and Zoro mutters something about âstarting off strong.â You swallow, sucking your teeth as you swirl melted ice around your drink.
âYes.â
Everyone sighs out in relief, tension removed for a second of release.
Your eyes flick up to hers.
âYour turn.â
She stares back at you: a challenge.
âDare.â
You shrug, mouth turned down, âI dare you to say when the last time you had sex was.â You stare at her glare, as she clocks you basically just gave her a truth anyway. She sniffs.
âLast week.â
âLiar!â You say, and she giggles. You shove the bottle of tequila closer to her, and she swallows what is certainly more than just one shot.
âYour turn,â she says to Zoro, who glances at Luffy for his prompt.
Luffy stares at the floor, now-empty glass held loosely in slender fingers. âWhatâŠis your favorite color?â
âI didnât say truth, captain,â Zoro snorts, âTruth or dare, Luffy.â
âDare?â
Sanji sighs, and Usopp says âwe might as well go with it,â so Zoro sighs and starts to think of something to dare his already-reckless captain with. He settles on something silly, and tame.
âI dare you to slingshot back and forth across the ship five times.â
Happy to be moving, your hyperactive friend shoots up and starts gum-gum rocketing across the ship with no small amount of shouting. You swirl the mint leaves in your drink. âYour turn,â you murmur to Usopp, who gives Sanji a glance.
âTruth or dare?â The chef asks, his own glass of wine clutched in his delicate fist. Itâs as dark as the sea.
âTruth.â
âWhat do Kayaâs lips taste like?â
The group oooâs in scandalous delight, all eyes on the sniper as he stares down into his drink. âPass,â he says, and takes a huge slurp. It dribbles down his chin. âWhoâs turn is next?â
âSanji,â you say, turning to him with a smile, âTruth or dare, handsome?â
He blushes at your pet name, and someone coughs. The blond boy licks his lips. His eyes meet yours, reflecting the fireâs red heat.
âDare.â
âKiss my cheek,â you preen, tails flicking around you. You bare the side of your face to him, sitting pretty by the campfire. Your scrappy jeans have stitched-on patches, and your crop top hangs loose around your frame. A single pendant hangs around your neck, and your hair is twisted into messy braids. You knock your steel-toed boots together.
Sanji hums, peaceful, as he delicately scoots toward you. Heâs already sitting next to you, tall legs and broad shoulders bumping into yours as he settles closer in. His hand is slightly cool as it graces the side of your neck. âBe still, pretty,â he whispers, just for you, as he presses a slow smooch against your cheek. He bites it, playfully, and you swat him away with a fearsome blush.
Usopp giggles, and Nami snorts into her cider again. Zoro and Luffy are both silent. You swallow, and cast about the crew for someone elseâs turn. âIs it me again?â You ask, and Zoro nods.
âTruth or dare?â He says, sake almost drained from his bottle. The air stills, sudden breeze gone quiet as you sit together. You curl two tails around yourself, petting the soft, arctic fur in your lap. It scratches against the striped patch on the side of your left hip.
âTruth.â
âNope,â Zoro says, swigging his sake, âTruth is boring. Youâre doing a dare. Sit in the lap of the person youâd most like to have sex with.â
Everyone gasps, except for you.
Your eyes burn with smoke, staring down the swordsman across the crackling flames. Sparks shoot up between you, orange and hazy in the moonlight. Something thumps against the ship; a fish or a shark that swims away silently.
You stand.
Sanji shifts, still close to you from his kiss. He scratches the fabric of his slacks above his left knee. His shoes are shiny and black beneath the stars. You step over them, carefully.
And you make your way across the circle, slowly as a shark circling prey.
âSorry,â you whisper, standing in front of the captain who saved you, âIs this seat taken?â
He stares at you.
His breath comes ragged and hazy, as he sets his glass down to make room. His hands are sweaty, so he wipes them off on his shorts as you stand beside his hip. He leans back, slightly, to let you sit side-saddle across his legs. He shifts on the deck so heâs cross-legged, and you take your seat with a searing blush. Your ass fits neatly into the space between his crisscrossed legs, his heat spilling into your body as he wraps his arms around your waist.
He nuzzles into your cheek, his soft hair tickling your jaw. âSleeping in my hammock tonight,â he whispers, his lips in your hair, âCaptainâs orders.â
****
#dumpster dive#my writing#one piece fanfic#luffy fanfic#luffy x reader#kitty speaks#luffy x y/n#luffy x kitsune#luffy x kitty#luffy x oc#luffy x you#sanji x you#sanji x reader#sanji x y/n#vasya#fox tales#kitsune oc
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Part 2 of being Sevikaâs favorite bartender!
Part 1
Part 3
Sheâs late.
3 hours late, in fact. Sevikaâs glass has become warm and watered down and you are bored out of your mind. Itâs a slow day, perfect for standing around and chatting up your favorite girl patron. Youâve had time to take all of the orders for the meager rush, to clean the bar top to bottom, organize the bottles with the labels facing out, youâve even had three smoke breaks (which mostly just consisted of you standing next to the bouncer at the front door and looking out into the street for Sevika.)
Every time the door slams open, your head perks up. Only to look back down when youâre not met with a pair of cool grey eyes. You sweep, and mop, and clean everything until it sparkles. Silcoâs goons that usually crowd in alongside Sevika just shrug when you ask where she is and get back to their card game.
Your mind is only taken off of Sevika when a man thatâs been sitting in the far corner table starts getting rowdy after losing a game of dice. You feel bad for the poor bastard until he flips the table, spewing curses and pointing fingers. You keep a watchful eye on him, hoping it doesnât go too far, until he throws the glass in his hand towards the bar. It flies over your head, glass and liquor spraying above you.
You call it, walking around the bar, getting ready to kick him out. You can handle yourself, youâve been doing this job a long time before you and Sevika became familiar. But the man is having none of it and begins to direct his anger towards you. Heâs throwing insults at you, his spit spraying in your direction until heâs red in the face. He stalks forward, poking at your shoulder and screaming every name in the book. Youâre about to make your way to the bouncer at the front when the fucker tries to throw a punch at you.
It doesnât land. Instead, a flash of copper and purple shoots past you, grabbing the manâs fist before it can hit your face. Jumping back, you look to your left, and there she is. Sevikaâs standing there in all her six-foot-something, muscular, gorgeous glory. If looks could kill, the man would be dead in an instant. She shoots you a quick wink before the mechanical hand squeezes down, and a sickening âcrunchâ resounds through the now silent bar. Your clit does not throb when she does it. That would be insane. The drunkard squeals in pain before Sevika drags him out by the arm and through the doors as you put the table back in its place.
Sheâs outside for a solid five minutes. You can hear her rich, bassy voice, shouting at the man as she brings more blows down onto him until the bouncer takes over. She makes her way inside, and you wouldnât even be able to tell she was beating the daylights out of someone if it wasnât for the small spatter of blood on the brass knuckles of her prosthetic arm. She happily walks back to you, a smile on her face, her flesh arm tucked behind her back.
âI leave you alone for a few hours, and you start fighting people?â She asks with a smirk. You only give her a huff of laughter and walk back to the bar with her, pouring her drink. She stands there rather awkwardly as you push the drink towards her, flesh hand still tucked behind her back.
âSo? Whereâve you been?â Sevikaâs expression turns sheepish as you question her, and she brings her human arm forward. Itâs clutching a large bouquet of flowersâYour favorites. You had only mentioned it once in passing, admiring them from afar at a market stand when she walked you home one night.
She got flowers. Flowers are so hard to come by in Zaun. She got you flowers? Sevika did? She got you flowers and now she looks like a nervous teenager about to ask you to prom and sheâs blushing like crazy? Sevika? Flowers?
âI uh⊠I got you flowers. Had to fight off a crowd to get âem.â The bashful smile she gives you is all teeth and the gap between the two fronts makes you weak in the knees. You can barely hear her words, they come out in a low, abashed tone. You blink and look at the flowers, and back to her. And then back to the flowers. And then back to her.
Your brain is short circuiting and your heartbeat is in your ears. You stand there and look at her dumbfounded, while Sevika shifts from foot to foot, the flowers still in her hand.
âThese are for me? You got them for me?â Your words come out in a squeak, a blush creeping up your ears and neck. Sevika nods and chuckles a little bit, handing you the bouquet. You take them with a grateful smile and inspect them closer. Theyâre wrapped in brown butcher paper, tied with a little bit of twine. The flowers are fresh and smell delightfulâbut the happy look Sevika gives you is even more so.
You admire them and Sevika canât help but admire the happy grin on your face. She canât help the way it makes her heartbeat pick up as you look at the gift. She thinks you look beautiful like this, glowing under the dim lights of the bar, your gorgeous smile lighting up your face. Sheâs trying her hardest to not lean over the bar and kiss you, but she wants to do this properly. To âwooâ you, or whatever Silco said. Not like he ever got any, but whatever.
âI wanted to ask you to dinner too, if thatâs alright.â Her voice is a low murmur, she fiddles with the glass in front of her, suddenly too shy to meet your gaze. You choke on your spit a little and try to recover your dignity with a small cough, but sheâs quick to catch it. A little snort of a laugh sounds from her, and itâs your turn to blush.
âI think dinner sounds really nice, Sevika. Iâd like that.â Your voice is a little hoarse when you answer, you have to clear your throat before you speak again. âBut Iâm not going anywhere with you when you have blood on your hands.â You reach for her prosthetic hand, the cold metal warming up in your palm.
She watches as you polish it off gently with the rag thatâs usually slung over your shoulder. Butterflies erupt in her stomach at your gentle touch, and the way you bite your lip a little in concentration. The corner of her lips curl in another small smile as she studies you silently.
âSo⊠itâs a date?â
âYeah, Sev. Itâs a date.â
â
Authors note: HELLO HI? I did not expect that last one to blow up like it did, thank you so much! I hope everyone enjoys the second part!
Also! My ask box is open and Iâm accepting asks and prompts! Until next time đ
#sevika x reader#arcane imagine#arcane sevika#sevika x you#sevika blurb#sevika#sevika arcane#arcane x reader
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Wedded Under War: Chapter Two
Pairing - Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, slight Bestfriend!Steve Rodgers x Reader Summary - When learning you're being pawned of to marry Bucky Barnes, you demand to join the latest meeting. Warnings - Mentions of violence, alcohol use Words - 2.4K
A/n - If anyone would like to be added to a taglist for this series, I'm happy to make one, just let me know :)
< Previous Chapter // Next Chapter > Masterlist
It hadn't taken you long for you to storm out of the office; what else had they expected from you? Your life had suddenly taken a 180. Before now, you were desperate to be a part of the real team, to fight alongside your two closest friends and brother. Instead of that, you got a marriage offer.
You wandered into Tony's living space for one thing only: his bar. One of which consisted of the most expensive aged whiskeys he could get his hands on. And while it may have only been lunch time, you found yourself severing an on the rocks rather than a sandwich. It went down much easier when you were faced with what your future could now hold.
You always liked coming to Tony's. It was spacious and modern. Despite it only made for him and Pepper, it must have had at least three other guest rooms, a party room with pool tables and a dart board. Expensive bottles of alcohol dotted in each room. The perfect place for his many extravagant parties.
"Should have known I'd find you here." A voice broke out. You spun around from the back of the bar, facing Steve as he wandered around the leather sofa to meet you. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
You shrugged, "Better than Barnes getting down on one knee." You were certain that would have ended in blood. Instead, you were forced to gaze upon the red mark which still littered Steve's cheek. "Sorry about slapping you."
He too shrugged before taking a seat at one of the barstools, "I deserved it. I should have told you what Tony was thinking." That you couldn't disagree with.
You reached for a clean glass, mixing together another whiskey for Steve. "You're my best friend. I trust you to tell me things my brother is too stupid to." You poured the drink in front of him, sliding it across the copper surface.
"Tony's not stupid," His blue pupils gazed up to your own. "He's protective."
To such, you scoffed. "Protective? Really? That's why he's pawning me off to Barnes like I'm some object."
"No, it's not like that-"
"Really?" You always admired the way Steve was able to keep the peace from within SHIELD. But, now it just seemed frustrating the way he wouldn't see your anger. "I've been begging for him to let me be involved. Instead of handing me a gun, he's handed me a ring and married me off without even asking. It feels like I'm stuck in some 1920s, sexist bullshit!" Quite frankly, you needed to get that out.
Steve practically sighed into his drink before taking a gulp. "If it's any consolation, I don't like the idea either." He offered. "But this is the way we have peace."
"Yeah, and I just have to give up my future." A price that no one else had to pay.
"Not necessarily." He hesitated with his next words, "It might open more opportunities for the job."
While that sounded enticing, you didn't believe it. "You think Barnes is gonna have me helping him out?" You may about to be his wife, but he wouldn't trust a Stark. No matter what legal name connected you.
"We can suggest it." Steve attempted to baragan. "We have a meeting later today at his manor downtown."
"Tony didn't mention that." You commented, taking another sip from your glass.
"Tony didn't want you there." Of course, he didn't. "I think you should be there."
You shook your head, "Tony doesn't want me at a meeting about how my own future." To them, this wasn't your future. It was the future of New York. It was about how they were finally going to bring peace to a city which had been at war with itself for years now. "I'll be there." You decided, chugging the rest of your drink and began to head for your own guest room.
"Y/n!" Steve yelled after you, not moving from the bar. "Don't make a scene."
You felt like if there were any time for scene, it was today.
--
Without another word to your brother or Steve, or even Natasha, you got ready for the meeting you hadn't been invited to. But was certainly one you were determined to pretend. You should have been used to it. No matter the severity of the situation, Tony never left the office door open for you to join during the most important meetings. It seemed your only way to get there was to force your foot in the door.
You exited the guest room, preparing for the argument you were sure to ignite simply by your presence. Instead, you seemed to walk right in on it. The distant sound of Steve and your brother battling against one another. "Tony, this is her future. She's right." You overheard Steve backing your corner.
You kept your figure hidden as your back pressed against the hallway wall which led out into the living area. "You saw her earlier. She's gonna waltz in there with no intention for peace. This entire solution is gonna be tarnished because she can't keep her head." Quite frankly, your definition of peace wasn't marrying Bucky Barnes.
"She deserves to be there." Steve attempted to reason.
"Not yet," You heard Tony reply, causing your eyes to roll. "Not until she's accepted this."
"You know that's never gonna happen."
You chose that as your cue to enter. The sound of your shoes hitting the wooden floors, prompting the men to gaze over at you, the words suddenly falling silent. "He's right." You finally spoke up to break their silence. "I'm not going to accept that the only reasonable solution to all of this was to pawn me off. But I want to be there."
Tony took a cautious step forward, "You can't-"
You cut him off, "No I can. You just just don't trust me to not make a scene." If you were honest, you wouldn't trust yourself either. "Look, I promise not to slap anyone." You gazed over at Steve with your words. "Even if they deserve it."
The two men glanced over at one another. A silent conversation relaying between them; one of which you still weren't a part of. "Wel,l I believe her." Came another voice from the doorway: Natasha. "We don't have time for a debate, Barnes is expecting us."
You smiled towards Natasha; at least she wanted you there. However, it still left the two men who had yet to speak. Tony finally let out a sigh and you knew you had won. He took a step forward, a finger pointed right at you. "Don't make a scene." He warned before leading the way out of his penthouse.
You were left smirking to yourself before Steve offered out his arm for you. "Happy now?" You linked your arm with his own, following Tony out with nothing but a smirk planted on your lips.
The four of you headed into the car, ready for the 30-minute drive to a place you had never been: The Barnes Manor. You'd heard about it from Natasha. Something big and fancy to fill Bucky's ego while still being close to the city - despite the fact he had several properties in the city. You watched as the metropolis skylines swiftly started to change into gated communities and suburban homes. It didn't take you long to spot Barnes' house.
At the end of the street, the biggest house there. A gate which soon opened, revealing the two henchmen stood outside the front door. A garage big enough for at least five cars with a vintage, black chevy parked out front. It was everything you expected it to be: luxury, modern, pristine.
You followed Steve out of the back seat of the car as your head gazed up at the three stories the house contained. You tried your best to act natural, to pretend this was normal to you and your rustic apartment back in the city. The truth was, you'd die for a house this big. To have the ability to have such a luxury.
Tony faced the henchmen first. He nodded and awaited the door to open. Instead, they began patting him down, searching for weapons. They pulled a gun from his inner blazer pocket, "Seriously?" Tony complained.
The henchman straighten his back, "No weapons today."
Natasha and Steve stared and looked before the woman responded. "Will Barnes and his men be following the same rules?"
Their reply was silent. You leaned over to Steve, "We're not really going in unarmed, are we?" You had to check.
Steve simply grasped his own gun and handed it over with a smile. When Natasha did the same, Steve took that as an opportunity to respond, "Just make them think we are." He answered.
So you pulled out your gun from the hem of your jeans and you too handed it over while leaving your dagger safely tucked under your sock. But the man didn't take it. Instead, he turned to look at Tony. "Who is she?"
You could have laughed; even Barnes' men hadn't expected you to be there. "I might be your boss's future wife." You answered ever so sternly before Tony had the chance.
At that, the man took the gun, gazing you up and down. He gave a nod to the other man who opened the door to the house. You barely had a chance to take in the marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling windows before Rumlow was facing you all. "This way," He started before his eyes found your own. "She's here."
You truly were getting tired of how surprised people were at your entrance. "She is." You replied.
"Not a problem is it?" Tony questioned.
Rumlow waited a moment as his gaze lingered. "Not today."
With that, the group of you followed behind Rumlow, passing the grand stairs towards the back of the house. You caught a glimpse of the outside where there was a pool situated, sunbeds and even a bar. This was a level of rich even you hadn't seen. The closest you came to it was Tony's penthouse.
When you entered the meeting room, you spotted Bucky waiting at the head chair, Sam Wilson beside him. Inside this room was different. A slick wooden table and matching chairs. Classic paintings dotted around that you wouldn't be too shocked to know were the authentic. "What took you so long?" Was the first thing you heard Barnes say as he stood from his chair.
He got his answer when his stare finally locked on to you. He had changed a little since you last saw him. His hair was longer, coming down to his neck. His face was now painted with a clean-shaved beard and a scar on his forehead that never fully healed. "Y/n," He stated as he moved closer, offering his hand for you to shake.
You stared between such an offer and Tony's expression. He was silently reminding you to be nice. So you took it, feeling his firm grip grasp your skin once again. "Barnes," You greeted.
When his touch left your own he returned to his seat, "Sit. Let's get to business."
Of course, Tony took the opposite seat to Bucky. Steve and Natasha at either side and you next to Steve. All while Rumlow slipped into the right side of Bucky. "While the details of the wedding can be sorted out at a later date, we should begin to plan engagement dates, press releases etc-"
"Who said I agreed?" Your words cut through his like a knife. There was silence. Even from Bucky. He wasn't used to people cutting him off so ruthlessly. "I get that you all think it's the best idea, but no one's stopped to tell me what I'm gonna get out of this...partnership." You hated the word marriage. Especially when it was attached to the Barnes name.
Bucky leaned back in his chair, holding his fountain pen between his two fingers. "Look around you, little Stark. Properties, money, travel. What more do you want from this?" The nickname made you tense. It was a common one that had spread around the mobs. And God you hated it.
"Funnily enough, money isn't everything to me."
You felt Steve's knee hit yours at that. A warning for you to choose your next words wisely otherwise either Bucky or Tony might just flip; you weren't sure which was worse. "For once, this isn't about you. This isn't about us. It's about safety." Bucky snapped. "If money isn't enough for you, I should hope your life is. Because if we don't do this, you won't keep that either." He threatened and it should have scared you, but you had the Stark name. That made you untouchable at times.
His words should have stopped you from arguing, "Can't the two of you just sit here, put your egos aside and decide to have peace? Why do we have to have a wedding?"
You heard Sam laughed to himself at such. The room was quiet for a moment. All you could was watch Tony's eyes as they avoided your own, stuck facing the table. "You haven't told her, have you?" Barnes realised. "You're too protective of her, Stark." He commented.
"Told me what?" You pushed.
You felt Steve's hand fall onto your own, "Y/n-"
You snatched away from his touch, leaning your elbows against the wood of the table as you stared across at Bucky. "What?" Your tone was stern, demanding to know what your brother had hidden from you.
"We're not getting married for peace, we're getting married so we look united." He explained.
However, it did little to fill in the gaps. "What-?" You looked between Natasha and Tony who had yet to speak a word. "One of you tell me what's going on!"
Tony sighed before finally daring to meet your pupils. His next words put a shiver through your spine like nothing else ever had. "Tracksuit Mafia are back in town."
And that could only mean, "Kingpin?"
Steve nodded, "Nothing's been confirmed but we'd be stupid to assume he isn't right behind them."
The boss who slayed through cities like a sword. Taking down anything, anyone until he gained the power, leaving nothing but destruction and death. The same man who had taken the life of your parents like it was nothing. And he was on his way. Suddenly, you found that Bucky was right; this wasn't about you anymore. It was about the safety of everyone you had ever cared for.Â
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fic#winter solider x reader#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes x reader#tony stark#steve rodgers#steve rodgers x reader#natasha romanoff#sam wilson#mcu#marvel#mcu x reader#mcu imagine#marvel x reader#x reader#fanfic#reader insert
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Alastor x Reader
----
Making it up (Part 1)
SFW
At first he does small things to try and appease you. You find little gifts in front of your room door. Small trinkets at first. Brooches, a container of cookies that were obviously made by Niffty, lady fingers fresh from Rosie's, songs being played on the radio in the lobby that you had a fondness for.
But you remained upset, not letting the small gestures make up for him leaving you in the dark for so long. No you wouldnt let his smile, his silly puns and his gifts worm his way back into your good graces.
You left the room when it was just you and him, you would blatantly ignore him when he would try to pull you into his conversations at times, you would use any excuse not to be near him without being truly rude -just riding the line.
Then several weeks pass before he is able to corner you like a trapped rabbit. He looms over you and looks down at you with glowing red eyes that are only enhanced by the monocle he sports.
" You will come by the my room tonight." It wasn't a question and Alastor's tone held no room for arguments. And he was gone, leaving you with the knowledge that it would be nearly impossible to skip out or avoid him anymore.
You dress nice for the evening, simple but nice. You wait outside Alastor's room door for a good thirty minutes, mainly arguing with yourself about even giving the man another chance. When you knock the door opened on its own like it had only been waiting for your touch.
A table set in the Bayou tells you what exactly the Radio Demon had up his sleeve. The dishes on the table were mouthwatering, and the whisky bottle sat between two glasses. Alastor had his overcoat off and just his usual dress casuals, but it was different when he had his coat off.
" Mon Cher, " Alastor pulled out your seat for you. " I made your favorites. "
" I know what your doing and it won't work." You tell him and you just get a 'hmm' from the elusive demon as he pushes you closer to the table.
The food was of course delicious, and had you nearly drooling when he brought out the lemon bars for dessert.
He spoke mostly, telling you about small things he had done about the hotel that day. Casual. It was nearly irritating to you.
" Are you ever going to tell me where you were?" The words come from your lips without much thought and it stopped Alastor mid-drink.
It was silent for a moment then you sigh and you were about to rise from your seat when his hand touches yours. You pause. Alastor usually didn't appreciate physical contact, it was rare and far between.
" I would tell you, but I dare not risk your safety for just a bit of knowledge. Just know that I am back now and I have no intention on leaving anytime soon. "
You were still upset, and it would take a long time to forget about the seven years thinking he was dead or might as well have been. But you always were a sucker for that soft smile he would have only in small moments. Perhaps it was a true one. You knew it gave your stomach the flips and your fingers feel like they were vibrating.
" Alastor... "
His fingers would brush your hair out of your face.
" Mon Cher"
His lips always like a mix of copper and coffee. It was bitter taste but you never minded when it came from him.
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Closer to Hell | shortking!DP&WLogan x fem!OC
SYNOPSIS: He may be five inches closer to hell than she is, but he takes up more space than God, sets fire to anything heâd dare to touch.Â
warnings: flirtation, short king!Logan (don't come for me), ogling, eye candy, absolutely nothing else but filthy thoughts, maybe some eye fucking.
a/n: it's my 100 celebration fic, yay me! i recently rolled over to 110 i think during the holiday, and i wanted to do something super fun for my 100 celly. i decided to play with comics-accurate, short king Logan, because i feel like we really don't appreciate him all that much. a small part of my brain hasn't stopped thinking about him. thanks to all my followers, you guys make me possible on this website, and without your interaction and all your fun stuff, life really would be so much more boring.
âMonkey Shoulder, neatâif you got it.âÂ
Fingers pause, hovered over a tablet that looks as if itâs been to hell and back, only to survive the purgatory that is staring into the bartenderâs face. Maybe forties, gray has overtaken the once-striking ruddiness of his beard, crows feet all but eating the templepieces of too-thick glasses perched on the end of his nose.Â
Once gawking at her has clocked enough time, he bats aside the tablet, the screen swiveling away, maybe in relief.Â
Curious if heâll actually serve the scotchâitâs about the fourth bottle from the left of the very back row of liquors lined against the mirrored wall, not a cheap bottle by any means. Hardly top-shelf, either. An unusual request, sure, but, sheâs always made a habit of trying out the screwy names when sheâs travelingâand in this dress, in this bar, well. Exceptions certainly canât be made. Cool vinyl of the barstoolâs plush nips at the back of her legs as she plunks down, docking her heels on the bottom rung of the stool.Â
âWhatever you say, sweeâheart,â gaps in his teeth make pronunciation difficult, but he nods at her respectfully. Lithe, practiced grace turns him aboutface on his heel, short fingers plucking the bottle from that very back shelf. Mirrored reflection reveals a popped brow of weâll see how this goes. Giving the bottle a little swirl, the copper liquid spins a tornado, wild and dangerous in its glass prison. Unstops the bottle with a jerk of his wrist, the little pop tipping up the corner of her lips.Â
Seconds, maybe, and the short glass plunks down in front of her, untouched scotch all but begging to be acknowledged. Her finger lazily traces the rim, even from here she can taste the bark of the liquor, how it hums. Warm and biting, her chest flutters with anticipationâof all the drinks sheâs sampled over the years, scotch is a favorite. Next to whiskey, but, whiskey sheâs had plenty of the last few days. Scotch will be a nice tamer, something to shake up the nightâshake up the thoughts burrowing trenches through the arteries and cavities in her chest.Â
Sliding him her credit card, itâs plastic bites against the bartop. Watching him log the number, he hands it back. She buries it against the band of her bra, against her sternum. Eyes rolling, the bartender trudges away as if heâs witnessed some great atrocity, down the other end of the barâtakes an order with hushed whispers, leaving her to eyeball her scotch in solidarity. Silence.Â
Friday and however much this dress would all but stand up and demand attention, sheâs alone. But thatâs no great sorrowâto be alone and actually let it eat away at the marrow in her bones would mean it is unwelcome, unfamiliar. Solo is all too familiar, rent free on her personâthe devil and angel parked on either shoulder, guiding her through moments. Itâs been this way her entire life, sparkling personality and sunshine attitude aside. Loudest wallflower to ever exist, perfectly forgettableâsheâs great company when sheâs seen, otherwise all too invisible. Itâs learned behavior, expected of societyâs less fortunate.Â
A quick flick of her foot has the barstool swiveling, her elbow parked on the bar behind her. Eyeballing the room quickly reveals that, wallflower that she isâsheâs an overdressed one, at that. And she could, probably, forgive herself. Hadnât exactly expected Mulliganâs to be an axe-throwing venue, complete with Toby Keith on repeat and flannel-clad lumberjack wannabees and their buckle bunniesâaxe bunnies?Â
A sip of the scotch has her nose scrunching a little, the splash in the back of her throat almost hot, even at room temp. Two lines to her right, a cute blonde does one hell of a job playing dumb as her date comes up behind her, helping her take stance. All but popping her ass back into his pelvis, there is not a stitch of air between them that could be breathedâheâs a little unbalanced. Probably that last Coors, sheâs giggly and her face is red as a beet. Probably one too many Mich Ultraâs. Together they crack up into laughter, before she actually makes an attempt to throw an axe, dressed in cutoffs and a flannel shirt a size too large, knotted off at the midriff.Â
Maybe shouldâve Googled that one pre-game, but, as her grandmother had always chided, Better to be overdressed than under, baby. Besides, a little black sundress was acceptable just about anywhereâthe heels could be overdoing it, though. Down goes another bite of scotch, and sheâs perfectly content to watch blondie and her backwards-ballcap date tiptoe around the goings-on of pre-sex, until movement to her left catches her attention.Â
Pool tables racked with activity, there couldnât be one more girlie in tight jeans or shorts leaning over green felt if the men had decided to make room. Each man at the table sports arm candy, some even two, full peacock with open chests and lifted chins. Stetsons, ballcaps, even a few beanies make a fine cocktail of male specimens, all bullshitting around ripped up pool tables and scuffed wooden floors. Beer bottles, pint glasses, liquor mottles here and there, hanging out on tables and pool table edges like trophies. Evidence of presence, of time spent. Side-eying the exchange of money isnât difficultâthey make a show of it, as if this is theatre. Shifts on her barstool as their jibes and shoulder-claps get a little more elevated, a little more colorful.Â
Too absorbed in watching the flock of men around the pool table, she misses the slight creak of a barstool accepting weight to her right. Jumps a little when the air bristles beside her, signaling a new bodyïżœïżœïżœsomeone else at the bar, too close for comfort. Too close to be ignorant. Especially when thereâs nobody at the bar, taking up air. Just her and her simple Monkey Shoulder, just her and the defeat that sinks her shoulders a little as realization hits.Â
She doesnât have to check if itâs a manâhis presence is overwhelming, almost dizzying. Masculine and purposeful, but not in a way that sends shivers down her spine. A quiet kind of energy, like the air before a storm. Unmoving but oh so deliberate, ripe with power. As if any moment something may collapse in on itself, rip open the airâbut chooses, instead, to prowl. Like a tower, overlooking, but not imposing. Temperature, too, has spikedâwhoever has just parked beside her ripples with heat like an inferno, itâs nearly tangible against her skin. Thick cologne swirls, a delicious idea beneath her nose that smells like musk, pine. Sweat and smokeâexhaust. Bike, maybe.Â
Unsure whether the flush lifting from her breastbone to her cheeks is the scotch or the newcomer, she uses her foot to swivel back around, leaning forward to rest her arms over the bar. Thin glass between her fingers rings a little as her nail tick, tick, ticks against it, and staring into the coppery swirl of booze allows her a little bit of a casual side-eye to the man who has parked himself at her now eleven oâclock.Â
Hair the color of midnight is full and thick, almost tinges a bit of sapphire under the fluorescents that dare to flicker a little above them. Even beneath full mutton chops, she can see the sharp line of a jawâstrong nose, purposeful brow. A striking profile, as he stares at his handsâthick hands, strong. Massive, more paw than actual hands, if she were poetic about it. Calloused, even from here. A troop of ebony hair forests his arms, thick and wiryâdoes little to hide the absolutely godlike muscle that all but stands up and demands recognition.
Arms no less than small trees, her eyes zero in on his veins, veins that may as well have their own ZIPâif careful, she could watch his blood actually current. Count the flutter of his pulseâintrusive thoughts win. She would give limb, soul to just hook up him to an IV and drink of whatever raw sexuality God had poured into his form. Â
Itâs easy to take in the rest of himâthick chest, well muscled would be an insulting adjective. She wouldnât believe, for a moment, there was a percentage of fat on his person, not the way his jeans clung to his thighs. Unaware they made belts so small for adults, sheâd never seen a narrower waistline. And abdominalsâGod Himself had only crafted those, broke the mold. Even from beneath whatever sad excuse of a threadbare black v-neck heâd thrown on this morning, they were washboard. Sheâd bet her life.Â
Oh my god, of all the menâÂ
And just as quickly as sheâd ventured off into whatever pornography such a man conjures up into brainspace, he shifts a little. Situates himself on his barstoolâsits back, hand on his thigh, other draped along the bar easily in that only-a-guy way. And her gut all but plummets into hell between her feetâthe floor could be stained with her own blood and she wouldnât have flinched. Whatâs-his-name commands every molecule between them, could split atoms with his raw sexuality, probably. Every movement is like living color, and she swears to God she can feel her ovaries kicking into overdrive.Â
Eyes snapping back to her own feet, she rocks her heels back on the barstoolâs rung, bottom lip rolling inward to consider just how flushed she felt. Heart hammering the marrow in her bones, she can all but taste the sweat thatâs racing down the river of spine, dampening the delicate lace of her panties. Blinking, she manages a steady breath between her lips, trying not to think about the bite of scotch lingering on her breath. Aware that her hands are shaking, she knocks back the rest of the scotch. Cracks the glass back to the barâs wood all too aggressively.Â
Somehow the bartender materializes in front of her, like Houdini. Or maybe Satanâshe hasnât decided.Â
âWhatâre you having again?âÂ
If it's even possible to forget, she isn't sure, but her eyes connect with his. Thankful for the distraction. Movement to her eleven oâclock signal fires in her brainâher partner at the bar has, without saying anything, entered this conversation. Or, at the very least, made himself aware.Â
âMonkey Shoulder,â she brushes some curl behind her ear, âneat. Double it, please.âÂ
Itâs too fast, too nervous to be genuine. But it is, and of its own volition, her spine straightens a little. As if such a thing is a sinâshoulders fall back, her gaze drops to her hands. Bartender all but plucking the glass from between her hands, he travels back down the barâretrieves the bottle, which he has somehow managed to forget. She watches him go like a desperate child, all too aware that the man beside herâs eyes have raked down her form, considering. Up and downâher heart flies, almost out of her chest.Â
A barstool creaks, and it isnât hers. Oh god. Â
Thereâs always that little something that strikes the airâheâs going to say something. Her eyes flutter closed, imaging his lips parting and closing off syllables and consonants, forming words. Itâs a delicious little thought that quickly ventures into ratings not suitable for children, and she has to bite the inside pocket of her cheek to anchor her back into the reality of the barâbecause sheâs, very suddenly, not here. Not as present and accounted for as an unescorted woman drinking should be, God help her.Â
Scotch appears before her almost fantastically. Reaching for it, the glass suddenly is heavier than the earth between her fingers as she knocks it back, entirely. In one sharp, flaming go. It spins her senses in a tilt, and the world all but flipsâmanaging the glass back to the wood somehow, she anchors herself. Two hands on the edge of the bar, white knuckling for purchase. Eyes pinched so tight she can feel her mascara brushing against the sensitive skin beneath her eyes, she releases a low growl thatâs more of a moan than anything.Â
âNow thereâs somethân you donât see everyday,â a dark, wolfish chuckle. âDonât think Iâve seen a lady down two scotchâs back to back without breathinâ before.âÂ
Mother of God, itâs low. And dangerous. She wouldnât have heard a nuclear explosion if it had detonated directly to her left, the immaculate conception had only ever been so beautiful. And if heâs tagged anything on to his statement sheâs missed it, blood galloping through her ears at such a rate it should alert the Kentucky Derby to put her at the starting gate.Â
A steel beam wouldâve been preferable to the heat dropping into her spinal column, his chuckle rattling low in a way that, obviously, is deliberate. And sheâs more bolt upright than she has ever recalled in her lifetime, soldiers would patent whatever form this was for their ranksâhe shifts on his barstool to face her, and sheâs suddenly Icy Hot all over. Simultaneously hot and cold, shivering and flamingâAntarctic air and Vesuvius smoke. Words lap her brain like a pace car, but none form in the back of her Sahara-cracked throat.Â
Blanking, first she stares at the empty glass between her fingers. Then to the stranger, whoâs arm rests along the bar like it was designed for him. Spider to the fly, the little smirk tugging up the corner of his lips gets lost in the dark hairs of his beard and chops, the swirl of shadow that chases light in his eyes like nightmares. All kinds of predator, she doesnât miss his eyes flicking over herâitâs quick, practiced. Youâd miss it if one wasn't looking, but nothing about this man could be ignored. He demanded to be seen, though she suspected by the cool smile and the dark clothes, he wouldâve preferred to be anything but noticed. But such beauty demanded attention, otherwise heaven lied.Â
Realizing the conversation is open, heâs waiting, she tracks his words. Again.
And again, and again.Â
Swallowing the slight shake to her confidence, her eyes track back to the glass. Hone in on tracing her finger along the rim. And she ignores the souring, burning liquor in the chasm of her gut where the scotch has hit nothing but open air, maybe stones in the base of her that maybe only God could see.Â
âOh.â Oh? OH? Coma patients showed more promising signs of life. âGuess youâve seen it all?â
Oh my god, ohmygod, OHMYGODDDâ
She couldnât have been any more pathetic if sheâd melted into the floor at his feet. Channeling the tremble of thinking into her hands, she nudges the glass away. Pulls it back. Plays with it like an amused cat with a toy, trying to decide if itâs friend or foeâif it's worth the distraction. A flick of her eyes back to the stranger and she suddenly realizes this glass is the only tether she has to the present world beyond this conversationâher only confidence. The only thing giving her an edge.Â
And should it be ripped from her, sheâd be nothing but a fish out of waterâa fat trout gasping for air.Â
âNot quite,â whatever heâs drinking, he tosses it back without hesitation. Line of his jaw twitches as the liquor registers, but not in an unwelcome way. âHavenât seen you before.â Vanishing down the long line of his throat without so much of a flinch, he savors itâhis tongue chases whatever lingers in his facial hair. The sight of his tongue, flat and wide, sends her gut twisting into thick knots she canât even fully describeâhis hand moves to smooth over his mouth, as if heâs combing his goatee back into place.Â
Without thinking, âWell, here I am,â slips past her lips, matching her arms that open at either of her sides, as if putting herself on display. Itâs bolder and far more brash than she could ever credit herself withâMonkey Shoulder. It's booze.
He chuckles, pleasantly she thinks. âHere you areâlucky sonuva bitch, arenâ I?âÂ
And without warning, he gets up.Â
Uncertain what surprises her first, she blinks at him a few times, fluttery lashes drinking in his presence on two feetâheâs short. Like, short short. Not-your-typical-guy-levels of short. Built like a god, maybe closer to a brick house, but heâs at least five inches closer to hell than she isâand sheâs five foot eight. Makes up for it in presence, thoughâif heâd been any taller, people would jump under tables.
Alarmed by the sheer weight of him taking up space, the corner of her mouth lifts a little in a smile. If itâs a confidence killer she wouldn't know, he shifts his shoulders like any man does. Chin leveled with the floor, his eyes catch with the same fierce confidence of any man sheâs ever witnessed. Unable to tear her eyes away, the muscle in his forearms twitch alive as he smoothly goes for his jacket, drapes it over an arm.Â
Christ alive, he isâwow.Â
Godâs perfect design, she thinksâhe knuckles his glass a little closer. Glass rakes across the bar in a little song, he swings a thick leg over the barstool directly next to hers. Nothing but air between them, now, he sinks low, and she enjoys watching him do soâhow his jeans pull just so along thick thighs. How how chest flexes as he angles to drape his jacket along the bar, how thick fingers card through hair she could covet the rest of her living daylights. Closer, she can feel his heat, his masculinity ebbing like an alive river, trailblazing new paths. Looking for her, reading the moment.Â
More like a predator than she realized first blush. Biting the corner of her lip, his gaze flicks over her a third time. She matches his effort. Much goes unsaid for a lot of moments, until he introduces himselfâLogan. No other name would suit such a man, she thinksâwithin heartbeats her own name slips between them, between the lines of his popped brow and the question he asks next.Â
âYou drinkinâ alone, darlinâ?âÂ
Nudging her empty away, Logan offers her a quicksilver look, hooded eyes and a cocked back expression thatâs easy, collective. Nonplussed, like this is easyïżœïżœïżœlike it isnât rattling every bone in her body, taking inventory of every organ and cell raging like wildfire in her veins. Expectation brims, and she lifts a flirtatious shoulder, looking from his hand that lingers on the bar back to his eyesâand they are dark eyes, eyes that belong to only one kind of man. The type of man her daddy had warned her about, that daddyâs all over Godâs creation sat up with shotguns over.Â
Lovely, focused eyes. Logan knew exactly what he was doing. Few others were such masters.Â
âShould I be?âÂ
Wrinkles that form along his eyes when he smiles are criminal. They belong, she thinksâhe wouldnât be right without them. âWould be worried if you were,â flashing two fingers at the bartender, his eyes move back to her, taking in the full scope of her features, âân my experience, pretty girls need someone tâstave off the wolves.â Chin lifted in the direction of the pool table trips her gaze to follow.Â
He thinks Iâm prettyâand thatâs newsworthy, stop the presses.Â
Nodding slowly, she fights back a smile. âAh. I see,â angling to tuck a foot behind the other, her elbow props on the bar, chin in the heel of her palm, âand whoâs to say you arenât a wolf, Logan?â
A tease, of course, but the way his gaze snaps back to her so quickly, one wouldâve assumed sheâd reached out and slapped him. Darkness through his eyes briefly rustles alarm down her spine, and her hand gently moves to retrace the rim of a refreshed glass as silence crescendos between them. Her anchor, again. A tether to reality, to anywhere beyond the depth of the window's to his soul. Â
Knocking back another sharp drink, he rolls a shoulder. âNot really a wolf,â his nose wrinkles a little as he shakes off the idea, eyes moving back to hold hers, âpack animals. Too much competition,â shrugging a shoulder, he chuckles, âbesidesâtoo short tâbe a wolf, too close to hell. More like aâwell, more likeâa wolverine, I sâpose.âÂ
And that makes her giggle, like a child.
âWaitâa wolverine? Arenât they weasels?â Her head cocks to the side, genuine curiosity wrinkling her noseâhe smiles, quicksilver thatâs cool, cuts down to parts of her she wouldnât share elsewhere. Heat rises to her cheeks, deepening the makeup sheâd been so deliberate to place earlier in the evening. âHow is that better?â
Dissolving into giggles isnât her style, not usuallyâbut itâs too comedic a mental image to set aside.Â
âBrought out that smile, didnât it?â
Oh.Â
She hums, nodding. Tries to hide the fluster of color sneaking up her breastbone to her cheeks. Fails.
âCharming, arenât you?â
âItâs the scotch.âÂ
She laughs again, shaking her head. Turns back to the bar, too flushed and girlish to take him seriouslyâor the weight of his eyes. They bore into her side profile like drills, lapping up the heat on her face. Any second now heâll come to his senses, she thinks. Conversation would fall flat, too embarrassed to speak and too innocent to flirtâheâd tire of the doe eyes.
They always did.Â
Thunk thunk thunking axes hit home on targets far behind them, almost a world away.
She tracks, too sharply, like a desperate animal Logan getting up from his barstoolâhere it comes. Fishes his wallet from his back pocket. Withdraws more than enough money, actually more money than would be necessary for the entire night. Tosses it on the bar like itâs easy, like it means nothing.
Watching him, chin still in hand, he works into his jacket like guys always manageâin a sexier way than necessary. Pops the collar. He may be five inches closer to hell, but he takes up more space than God, sets fire to anything heâd dare to touch.Â
Tossing back the rest of her scotch, she inhales a deep breath through her nose. Enough to swell her chest, pull her guts in tighter than she thought possible. Disappointment bleeds like a gunshot wound into her chest, mingling with her ribs, and she wills up cold courage. Hands on the bar spin her around on the barstool, lips parted for goodbyesâ-
âonly to be met with his hand, extended to her.Â
âWanna get outta here?âÂ
His brow lifts, investigative. Hers are nearly in her hairline, surprise shellshocked her face like broken plaster. Blinking at his hand, her stomach all but explodes when his finger crooks for her to come, to follow.
Itâs a wanton gesture, the way his brow bobs teasingly. Corner of his mouth lifting in a way thatâs devilish, almost sinful. Asking where to go is hardly necessaryâsheâd probably follow him into hell, if so persuaded.
Asks anyway.Â
âNot sure yet, prettyâbut, tell me. How dâya feel about ridin' double?â
#hugh jackman#wolverine#logan howlett#logan#x men#xmen#logan howlett x reader#mare writes#deadpool and wolverine#short king logan#worst!wolverine#worst!logan x reader#worst logan#worst wolverine#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett fanfiction#james logan howlett#james howlett#logan howlett x oc#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#comic accurate wolverine
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earned it [thomas shelby x mafia/dominant reader smut]
word count - 3k
[ summary - the reader, the current head of the sicilian mob, meets with thomas shelby to discuss an issue that intervenes with both of their organizations. despite their mutual disliking for one another, thomas takes an interest to the business woman before him, and doesnât seem to realize how powerful she may be. ]
[ warnings - mentions of violence, strong cursing, dirty talk, dominant female, oral (f & m), praise kink, unprotected sex ]
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âand if we get âridâ of him and his members, how are we going to go about that?â thomas shelby asked me from across the obnoxiously long dining table, lighting a cigarette and sinking into his chair.
i shrug nonchalantly, resting my arms against the table as i chew the steak his supposed aunt polly cooked for us. weâd be discussing this matter for so long my food was starting to get cold.
âwe can handle that, all i ask is for you and your family to do the talking. get them out of birmingham and into italy. i know itâs a far stretch, but we can make it work. when someone is offered a lot of money, theyâll travel. the last thing their organization wants is no protection. i think theyâd trust the mobâs word over a group of drunken, horse-betting brothers.â
thomas scoffed, moderately offended but also carrying a tone of impressment, taking a sip of his whiskey and gesturing the glass towards me. âyou italians have a mouth on you, eh? you crawl around europe like the coppers, thinking you own the cities, only youâre not afraid to take out your guns, hm, mrs. [y/n].â
âiâm not married.â i mutter, once again taking the steak knife in my hand as i begin to cut the tender meat.
he quirked his brow, setting his glass down. âmy mistake. i assumed that a woman who ran one of the most dangerous gangs in italy was wedded. i shouldâve looked at your ring finger before i commented, miss [y/n].â
âweâre not here to discuss my marriage status, mr. shelby. this group of communists pose a real threat to both of our families. i can get back in my carriage right now and send my men in here to shoot you in the fucking head for all i care, if you donât cooperate, or we can get back to information that actually matters, and your life goes on.â i look him in the eyes, a blank expression on my face.
he stood up, walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself more whiskey, taking another glass and filling it with a new bottle of red wine after popping the cork. he set it beside my plate, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.
âyou can get pissed off all you want, dear, but iâm the one with a gun in my pocket. i could kill you, and your men, in a matter of seconds, so donât think your words even draw a nick of blood on me.â he threatened, sipping his drink, enough to nearly empty the glass. âwe can agree to disagree all night, or you can change your temper and we can figure out a neutral solution for the both of us.â
i chew my steak, watching him speak with a smirk on my redly tainted lips. i take the glass of wine and drink it slowly. âyou are quite charming, mr. shelby. it almost offends me that you think i walked into your home unarmed, too.â i take my napkin and dab it on my lips before standing up, dusting off my black dress. âdo as i say, and get them to italy. we can discuss the specifics after you speak to their leader. walk me to my carriage, wonât you?â
thomas stands up, pushing both of our chairs in before walking me to the back doorway, his whiskey glass still in hand, only a few ice cubes left inside and not even a shotâs worth of alcohol. i glance down at the purse in my hand, looking through to find my lipstick, confused if i had dropped it when i stood up from the table. i sigh, looking up to the peaky blinder who stood before me as he opened the door for me.
âgive me one minute, i think i dropped my lipstick by my chair.â i set my purse down on the table aside their coat rack and walk back to the dining room, hearing his footsteps trail behind as he followed.
i lean down, seeing the lipstick on the floor and pick it up, turning around to bump into thomas, our faces not even two inches apart as he lightly pushed me against the table.
i roll my eyes, both hands planting against his chest and pushing him off. âi donât think me saying i was unmarried was a suggestion, mr. shelby. not every woman becomes a whore when you have them over for dinner.â
âdo you ever freely sleep around, miss [y/n]?â thomas asks, looking down to meet my eyes, then averting to my lips. âsurely, a woman like you, can get whoever she wants. you run apart of the bloody world, for what itâs worth. do you ever fuck anyone on your level? someone as powerful as you are?â
âthatâs none of your concern.â i say, glancing down at the light erection that was intruding his black slacks. âalthough, i definitely donât fuck men that rudely come onto me when i make it clear i came over for strictly business.â
he grinned, one of his hands gently sliding onto my back, the other setting the glass on the table, one ice cube sliding onto his fingertips. he pressed it against my collarbone, sliding it down my skin softly.
âoh, but you definitely do. i think this says otherwise, donât you think?â thomas tilts his head teasingly, gesturing to my hardening nipples as they protruded my dress.
i blush, shaking my head in disbelief. âyou have a cold substance near my chest, thatâs a natural reaction.â
âitâs not even near them, dear. iâm still pressing on your shoulder. itâs not a bad thing to admit you like this, miss [y/n].â he slides the ice cube further down my chest, his pinkie pushing my dress back, the v-neck fabric tucking itself underneath my right breast through his manipulation. he slid the substance over my nipple, causing me to sigh heavily. he couldnât help but grin at my reaction.
thomas leaned down, dropping the ice cube back into the glass and licking my erect nipple, sucking lightly on the bud before pushing me against the table and sitting me down. i moan softly, looking up at the ceiling, my body now in a heat at his teasing touch.
âi think you choose not to fuck. from what it seems like, it may be a distraction for you. youâre a busy woman. perhaps there is no time for any sort of play.â thomas says, reaching over to expose my other breast. âyou really donât let anyone in, even physically. you and i, miss [y/n], are probably more alike than you realize.â
âdonât even try convincing me of that. i know you fuck, mr. shelby.â
âoh, really? you know that, how? because of how wet i already have you?â he asks, reaching his hand down and into my knee-length dress, pressing his fingers against my warm panties.
i hold my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as he pushes the fabric to the side, lightly tracing his fingers against my wet folds.
âa woman like you wouldnât like to be fucked like a whore, though. you expect much more than that. youâd like to be praised, as if you were a crown jewel in terms of your status. youâre someone who is clearly unfazed by most men, i can see that. you donât give a fuck about them unless they worship you.â
âdo you think you could possibly do that, mr. shelby? worship a woman?â
ânot just any woman, no.â he begins, reaching his arm across my waist, snaking it around me to pull me up and into his chest, where he held me up and guided me to the bedroom next to the dining room. âit takes someone who knows who they are and what they can do to make me feel like they even deserve that type of treatment.â
he helped pull my dress off, leaving me in only my panties as he set me on the bed. i chose to oblige, partially due to the pleasure he was sinking me into, but also because i found it interesting he thought he would even have full control over the situation. thomas was right about me choosing to not fuck, but that didn't mean i fell at the feet of a man who knew what he was doing. thomas shelby was a powerful man, sure, but he could never climb the ladder high enough to reach my level.
âbut you, you know what you can do. you do what has to be done, miss [y/n]. you threatened to put a gun to my head, what kind of woman does that? a fucking powerful one.â thomas nearly moans at his own words, leaning down to kiss me before he began to undress.
i return the kiss, my legs still shut, as thomas began to unbutton his shirt, glancing down at my waiting body. he undressed himself fully, standing naked before me as he climbed into the bed and leaned down on his knees, sliding off my underwear and tossing them to the floor.
he hovered above me, planting a passionate kiss against my lips, leaving red residue from my lipstick on his own lips while he slid his tongue into my mouth. i feel his fingers slide inside of me, my legs spreading in reaction as he began to finger me. his lips trailed from my neck to my breasts, sucking my nipples back and forth as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy.
i close my eyes, my mouth hung open as i moan in pleasure from his touch. i could feel his eyes on me, watching nothing but my expression. the mental part of me hated giving into thomas shelbyâs advances, but the physical side of me could care less. he knew what he was doing, it seemed like, but frankly, so did i.
âoh, youâre so fucking wet, love. youâre practically dripping onto my fingers, onto my bed..â thomas cooes, pulling himself out of me and into his mouth, licking my juices. âand you taste just as good as i imagined. how did i get so lucky to touch you?â
i lightly sit up, leaning over to pull him back into a kiss as i climb off the bed, thomas now sitting at the edge. i get on my knees and take his cock into my hand, spitting on his tip and beginning to lick his cock, up and down, pressing light kisses against his skin as he watched, his expression showing nothing but lust, as he grinned from cheek to cheek at my actions.
âfuck,â he mutters, resting his hands on the bed. âyou look beautiful when you play with my cock, love.â he moans as i slide him into my mouth and down my throat, still looking up to meet his eyes. he reaches over to hold my chin in one hand, gently guiding my head up and down. âthatâs it, please keep taking my cock. youâre so pretty when you do so, love. i canât wait to fuck you, youâve got me nearly finishing at the thought of it.â
i pump him inside of my throat, feeling his orgasm nearly reach the surface as he groans at the build up of it all. i pull away, taking his length in one hand as he cums onto my face, his seed coating all over my mouth and cheeks.
âoh, fuck, you look so fucking good, [y/n]. your mouth felt so fucking good.â thomas praises, watching as i lean back, tracing my finger across my cheeks, licking his cum off and into my mouth. he stares in awe, reaching his hands over to help me stand up and get back onto the bed. he presses a hard kiss against my lips, laying back down as i lay on top of him.
âi donât think you understand this, thomas.â i smirk, cupping his face with both of my hands. âyou donât just get to fuck me, you know that, right? you have to earn it. iâm the motherfucking leader of a mob, after all. i donât fuck just anyone, not even thomas shelby, no matter how good you may be at fucking.â
he tilted his head, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back down. âis that so? your cunt is practically begging for me to fuck it. we donât have to play this game, love. please, let me touch you further.â
i roll over and out of his grip, laying down next to him and spreading my legs, gesturing for him to get in front of me. âthen fuck me with your tongue, and weâll see what i think of anything further than that.â
he chuckles, seemingly surprised by how bossy i could be, but leaned down anyway, adjusting himself to wrap his arms around my thighs, his face stuffed between them as his tongue attached to my clit, flicking the bud of sensitive flesh. i moan softly, watching thomas lick between my folds and back up to my clit, back and forth, which only drew a pit in my stomach, as my orgasm slowly began to build. i was more surprised by his efforts more than his experience. of course thomas shelby knew how to fully pleasure a woman when she demanded it.
âfuck, thomas..â i moan softly, reaching down to hold his black hair with one hand. âjust like that, baby, and youâll be fucking me so soon. god, that feels good.â
he quickens his pace a bit, my back gently arching up in reaction to his action, my free hand gripping the white bedsheets as he helped me very quickly reach my orgasm, my fluids releasing onto the sheets and his lips. i dripped down his chin but he didnât seem to care, taking me by the hips and moving one leg on top of his shoulder, sliding his hard length inside of me with one slow stroke, both of us moaning at the sudden stimulation.
âoh, fucking hell, [y/n], my god, dear, youâre so fucking wet, you feel so good, fuck,â thomas groans, leaning down to kiss me, his free hand taking my breast into his his palm and squeezing harshly, earning a moan from me into his mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.
i pull away from the kiss, looking down to watch him pump his thick, wet cock into my pussy. my tits bounce at his thrusts, my core feeling every single touch. thomas held my ankle to keep my leg up, his other hand pulling away from my breast and down to my hips, holding the side of my waist to further his steady grip.
âyou take my cock so well, [y/n].â thomas compliments, glancing down to meet my eyes as i look away from our bodies. âi could watch you forever, fuck. the way you look right now is absolutely stunning, no one can ever fucking compare to your cunt.â
i lean up slightly, resting on my elbows, grinning at thomas as he fucks me. âyou really think so, thomas? then why donât you fuck me harder? make me cum again, baby, i want to so badly. make me cum with you.â
âif you want me to fuck you harder, [y/n], youâre going to have to turn around for me.â thomas suggests, lightly pulling himself out of me and also wiping the sweat from his forehead, assisting me as i turn around, all fours against the bed as i arch my ass up, feeling tommyâs hands play with it by squeezing the flesh and slapping it lightly.
âyouâre perfect from behind too, fuck. is there anything about you i can dislike? you italians may have bloody mouth, but you take me so well in yours, love.â he says, pushing himself back inside of me.
he holds me by the hips, starting to fuck me, but much harder than before. our skin slaps together as he pushes himself in much deeper, so much so that i was gasping at his touch, grabbing the sheets and holding them as hard as i could, despite the sweat that was collecting on my palms.
âf-fucking hell, tommy..â i moan into the sheets, my head resting against the pillow. âyou fuck me so good, baby, keep going like that, fuck! fucking fill me up, tommy, fuck!â
he leans down to grab my neck, pounding inside of my walls before our moans begin to sync, our orgasms releasing a matter of seconds after as we finish together, his warm seed filling my insides and my own cum dripping from between us, tricking down my now shaking legs.
thomas pulls out of me, turning me over to lay beside him. he wraps one arm around me, but glances down to meet my eyes, and kisses me tiredly.
ânext time, youâre going to be the one begging me to fuck you.â he says in a more demanding tone, a small smirk on his lips. âi donât like to ask nicely.â
i sigh, rolling over onto my stomach so i could face him completely. âthen youâre fucking the wrong woman, thomas.â
he shook his head, cupping my cheek and kissing me once more. âoh, believe me, i think iâm with the exact woman i need to be fucking.â he sits up, rolling out of the bed and to the dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear.
âletâs discuss this communist issue one more time, work out the details.â he says, slipping his boxers on. âand if we come to an agreement tonight, iâll ask nicely again in the morning, unless you need to get back to your people?"
i stand up, picking up my underwear and sliding them on, as thomas hands me a larger white shirt to put on. âi think iâd rather you ask again tonight, mr. shelby. my people can wait overnight if it's for a good cause.â i tease, opening the bedroom door before walking back out to the dining room table, grabbing the half-empty glass of wine and taking it down in one sip.
thomas stands behind me, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the table, pressing himself up against me, placing his palm on my back to push me down on the furniture. "let's push our meeting back a few more minutes then. here's me asking, miss [y/n]."
he begins to kiss my neck and i reach between my legs, pushing my panties to the side as i hear his boxers hit the floor. this was going to be an unexpectedly long night.
#smut writing#fanfic#x yn#x reader#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#thomas shelby x reader smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders imagine
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"Be right back," you announced to Rosita and Carol, getting up and rushing to the front door. You couldn't help the wide smile that formed when you realized it was Daryl standing there waiting. "Hi," you greeted him warmly. "What's up?" The heat and humidity of summer had finally broken and given way to a gloriously beautiful autumn day. His wavy brown hair was lightly tousled from the wind.
He seemed nervous, shifting his weight back and forth, turning something copper colored and fuzzy over and over in his hands. "Uhhâjust wanted to drop this off for ya..." He thrust the orange something into your hands and your fingers sunk into velvety soft fox fur. A pelt. "I trapped it last year and made it into scarf-kinda thing 'nâthe weather's turned now and all. Thought ya might need it." He stood there looking as if he was somehow imposing on you by standing on your front stoop. "Yer always cold, ya know," he drawled, trailing off at the end.
"Thanks," was all you managed and it was woefully inadequate. You were a little surprised by the whole occurrence.
"No problem," he said, ducking his head and turning to rush down your front steps.
"HeyâDaryl!" you called after him. "Rosita and Carol are here. We were just having some drinks... Carol stole some wine from the pantry. If you wanted to come in?"
He looked like he was considering saying yes for a brief moment, chewing on his bottom lip, but he eventually ducked his head. "Nah... ya'll have a good time. I dun wanna get in the way of a girls' night."
He'd already turned to leave again when you said his name once more. "Daryl!" you called after him again. "You're never in the way," you asserted, cocking an eyebrow up at him.
He nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching up. "Thanks. But I'll just see ya around, alrigh'? Dun drink too much," he cautioned you.
You watched him rushing away up the sidewalk and disappeared back inside, turning the fox fur over and over in your hands the same way he had been.
"What's that?" Carol asked as you stepped back into the kitchen.
It took you a moment to even register that she'd said something to you. "Huh? Oh. It's a fox fur scarf. Daryl just dropped it off," you said. "I'm not sure whyâbut he said the weather's turned andâ" Carol and Rosita exchanged a look and you saw it. "What? What was that look?" you asked urgently.
Rosita let out a dry laugh as if the meaning was the most obvious thing in the world. "Hey, stupid. He likes you," she said pointedly.
You stared at her. "He just knows I'mâI get cold easily..." But even you sounded unconvinced.
Carol rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of wine again. "God, all this denial is making me sick," she joked, shooting you a look. "Daryl Dixon gifting you something he made with his own hands is the equivalent of a male peacock spreading its tail feathers. This is your signal. Earth to Y/N! Do something!"
You felt your cheeks flush. "What am I supposed to do?" you asked rhetorically.
Rosita shoved the unopened bottle of wine toward you on the table, her eyebrows lifting. "Take this over to his room in the basement with two glasses and climb in his bed," she laughed. "That should be obvious enough even for him."
"Stop..." you muttered, still flushing furiously.
Carol finished pouring more wine into her own glass. "Just do something! The man is doing his best and Lord knows he needs some help," she smiled.
Prompt: "Hey, stupid. He likes you." A/N: Fuck, this is cute. Not me wanting to write this as a whole ass fic....
#that peacock line tho#lmao#and y/n grabs the bottle of wine and goes#and daryl is just laying in his bed when they burst in#and he's like ???#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon twd#the walking dead#twd fanfics#daryl dixon drabbles#daryl imagines#daryl x y/n#fanfics#writers of tumblr#twd drabbles
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The Three Don'ts of Sabertooth Brewing
[contains semi-public sex + fem!reader]
SUMMARY: You visit Yanu at work on a slow night. One thing leads to another and just when things get exciting, something both unpleasant and unexpected forces you to take a rain check on back-alley romps.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k
A smile brightens your face when you see the Sabertooth Brewing sign from across the street. The venue doesnât look like an appropriate place for a young lady without nefarious motives but at the same time, the entirety of the Copper Valley district doesnât appear so. Nonetheless, you couldnât think of a safer place to be. Whatever turf wars the former copper miners lead, they all agreed to omit Yanu and his business. It reached the point where some locals called the bar âthe embassyâ as itâs the only neutral ground in the neighbourhood.
The rough-looking miners curtly nod at you as you walk past them. A cloud of smoke and soot surrounds the two men. They always stand near the entrance of the locale but never go inside. Smoking one cigarette after another, their job must be to ensure that Yanu stays largely unbothered by the conflicts of Copper Valley. So far, theyâve been excellent at doing their duties.
You giggle quietly as you read the sign hanging on the front door:
Donât: - fight - spill drinks - ask Qârill to make a mojito
A bell chimes when you push the door open. Low, yellow lights make the interior look cosy. Conversations held by the patrons sitting in booths and around small tables are drowned out by a trio playing a familiar swing tune. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your lungs and sticks to your clothes. Two waiters weave between tables and clients, faux joy plastered to their faces. One of them notices you - she gives you a quick wave and nods towards the long bar counter.
Although he is surrounded by bottles filled with colourful drinks, itâs impossible to overlook Yanu. Maybe itâs a general rule or perhaps itâs just your fatal affliction. Heâs wearing a shirt, a vest and a pair of tailored pants - exactly what one would expect a bartender to wear. Seemingly lost in thought, heâs just wiping some glasses but still, there is something unspeakably captivating about him. An aura that paints him as extraordinary and not just the way he is.
Yanu must notice you approaching out of the corner of his eye. When his gaze meets yours, his expression immediately changes. The deep, pink scar across his blind right eye gives the rakshasa a certain edge but even that isnât enough to hide the pure adoration painted all over his face. His blue iris stares at you lovingly until a shadow of mischief dances across Yanuâs features.
âMy, my, I donât recall having an appointment with a princess,â he speaks with pretend surprise.
âPrincesses donât make appointments,â you answer casually. Sitting on the high bar stool, youâre still significantly shorter than the rakshasa behind the counter. âThey just show up when they want to.â
He chuckles in a low voice. âGods bless them for that.â
Yanu leans on his forearms on the counter and hangs his head to let you kiss his cheek. Round, furry ears adorned with silver jewellery flutter as they brush against your hair. It tickles when his whiskers touch your face.Â
Feeling his breath against your skin, you donât have to speak loudly. âI hope Iâm not interrupting you.â
âYou,â he points an accusatory finger at you, âinterrupt my every coherent thought but Iâve learnt to enjoy that.â
Suddenly, your face gets hot. âIâm being serious, Yanu,â you say through flustered giggles. Even after all this time, itâs beyond easy for him to make you giddy.
âLikewise.â He winks at you before standing up straight. âSo how can I spoil a princessâs palate?â
âHm⊠I feel like elderberry.â
âDrunk all the time, feeling fine on elderberry wine*,â he sings while looking around for ingredients. The idea for a cocktail comes to him in an instant as befits a true connoisseur.
Yanu appears to be in a trance as he pours and mixes lemonade, vodka, St-Germain and some thyme. Every action is quick and decisive but never careless. Similarly, you are in a sort of trance, too - watching his white shirt and elegant black vest strain around the muscles of his arms. One day the seams of the garments might just let go but say, would it really be so bad?
The rakshasa pours elderflower syrup into the shaker. With a swift flick of his wrist, the shaker with your cocktail-to-be flips in the air. The metal cup makes a full circle only to be caught again by his hand, its content poured into a square drinking glass.
He looks at you in anticipation. Satisfaction is written all over his face. âPretty nice, right?â
But youâre in a bantering mood tonight. Not letting him see how in awe you truly are, you only raise your eyebrows. âYou have huge arms. It would be more impressive if you dropped that.â
Yanu sighs dramatically. He shakes his head and crosses his arms across his chest. If it wasnât for the glimmer of amusement in his good eye, youâd think heâs genuinely upset. âAnd here I thought that a lowlife like me could impress a princess.â
âWellâŠâ you ponder for a moment, âthere are a few things you could do with your hands that would be impressive.â
Something changes about his demeanour. The amusement stayed but now it is joined by some darkness that leaves an aftertaste of chocolates with brandy - warming and rejuvenatingly bittersweet.
âReally?â he asks in a low voice. His blue eye is watching you intensely, almost looking through you. âPray tell, what do you have in mind?â
Perhaps thereâs some perversion to it but you enjoy leaving his question unanswered for a while. Slowly, you sip on the drink, silently enjoying the perfectly balanced flavours. Not too sweet, not too sour. A true testimony of how well Yanu knows you. That passionate gaze of his never once leaves you, catching even the smallest of movements. A predator or a lover? - how similar these two can be.
âA princess shouldnât be saying such things out loud,â you finally say.
Yanu leans on his arms against the bar counter. With each exhale, his warm breath gently brushes against your face. Thereâs some intensity hidden under his casual demeanour as though if you were to play your cards right, he might just cause scandalous immodesty in full view of the clients.
âWill she share them away from prying ears?â More than a question, itâs a suggestion. One that you have neither the will nor the want to reject.
Feigning innocence, you shrug your shoulders. âPerhaps.â
The rakshasa only chuckles. He stands up straight and calls out to someone:
âHey, Qârill! Watch the bar for me for a bit, eh?â
The drow, equally well-dressed as Yanu, doesnât even look your way. Still cutting a lemon into pieces, he answers in a heavy accent, âGot you, boss.â
Not waiting for a sign or a word of encouragement, you get off the stool and walk towards the closer end of the counter. Ever the gentleman, Yanu lifts the wooden part, letting you go behind the bar. But thatâs not where the two of you are headed - you follow him through the back of the brewery, only to leave through the staff door.
The alley is dark and narrow. Something rattles in the skip filled with trash, probably a rat or two. In the distance, far away from where youâre standing, cars drive by every now and again. Muffled swing music played by the trio inside the bar sounds like an ambience of a faraway world.
Yanu pushes you against the wall. Heâs towering over you - if he so wished, he could effortlessly throw you over his shoulder and carry off. The bricks are cold against your back but soon you find them refreshing when compared to the warmth beaming from the rakshasa. His rough tongue slowly licks the side of your neck. Itâs strange, tickling and absolutely delightful.Â
One of his hands lifts your leg, resting your knee against his hips. Lustful greediness has him grabbing and groping whatever part of your thigh and ass.
Just when a pleased sigh leaves your lips, Yanu stops licking your neck and nuzzles it instead.
âSo how can I impress my princess?â he purrs into your ear.Â
Heâs not waiting for an answer - not really. Not when you feel his clothed erection grinding against your groin. You can almost feel your arousal dripping down your legs.
Yanuâs other hand slides into your underwear. His fingers, thick and furry, sensually rub your clit in circles. Breath hitches in your throat. âWould this impress her?â he asks.
âMaybe,â you manage to say between whimpers.
The rakshasa only hums in response. Itâs hard to say whether your answer satisfies him.
A loud moan escapes your lips as Yanu easily slips his fingers inside your pussy. The stretch is already more than enough for you. Slow strokes have him reaching deliciously deep inside you.
âYou look so pretty like this, princess.â
Looking for support, your hands grab his shoulders. It feels as though your abdomen is suddenly set on fire, your coherent thoughts swimming away and turning into static, if not disappearing completely. There is only Yanu, his quiet groans against your neck and his thick fingers hitting that perfect spot.
âFaster, please,â you squeal.
With utmost pleasure, he obliges immediately. It feels so good you could scream but not a sound leaves your agape mouth. If you werenât so lost in your pleasure, maybe youâd notice your legs quivering. Your grip on his shoulders only tightens, earning a chuckle from him.
âMy princess is going to come?â Yanu coos.
No answer comes from you, only another pathetic moan. Desperate to orgasm, you begin rubbing your clit. Itâs âallowedâ in these extraordinary circumstances. No doubt Yanuâs âI live to please youâ attitude will come back behind closed doors and between the white sheets of your bed.
Your vagina is clenching around his relentlessly thrusting fingers, your whole body begins shaking. A cry gets stuck in your throat. The wave of pleasure, the climax he so eagerly gives you, washes over you more like a tsunami than a wave. It drowns out your thoughts, your breathing, your strength. Fortunately, Yanu has a tight grip around your leg, keeping you standing straight. Heâs still sliding in and out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm.
Finally, he slips his fingers out of you. Youâre about to say something, thank him or praise him, when a loud crash resounds from inside the bar. Someoneâs yelling but the voice is too muffled for either of you to understand whatâs the matter.
Yanu and you exchange a look of both confusion and worry. Then, as though lovers know something akin to telepathy, the two of you chuckle.
âMojito,â you say simultaneously.
When your laughter, contrary to the row next door, dies down, you let out a sigh. âGuess weâll have to postpone our little escapade.âÂ
Yanu brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Heâs a cheeky man, staring right into your eyes while doing something so indecent. âIâm fine with that,â comes the answer.
But you can play that game, too.
Low groan rumbles inside his chest when your hand teasingly rubs his prominent bulge. He clenches his fists, doing his utmost best to keep himself collected. You could so easily make him fail at thatâŠ
âAre you, though?â you ask with faux innocence.
Although youâve just had a great orgasm, you can feel your pussy throbbing again. As your mind wanders for a second or two, pondering possibilities, your mouth starts watering.
Yanu firmly grabs the wrist of your hand caressing his crotch. Keeping you in place, he grinds against your palm. Through clenched teeth, he growls into your ear.
âIâm a big boy,â the rakshasa purrs. âI can wait a few hours.â
âI know youâre big, boy,â you retort in an equally sultry voice. âIâll see you home.â
In a loving gesture, he nuzzles against your neck one last time. âDonât stray.â
After that, he watches you walk away. Only when you disappear behind the corner does he go back inside the bar. As much as he likes Qârill, heâd much rather go back home with you.
_____
*Lyrics from "Elderberry wine" by Elton John. A bit of an anachronism, yes, but a damn good song.
If you see any books, plays, movies, paintings or songs mentioned, it's most probably something very close to my heart :)
I'm also a complete greenhorn in writing smut, so bear with me as I learn on the go.
#monster romance#monster boyfriend#monster smut#teratophillia#monster fucker#monster bachelors of dawncrest#monster x human#monster x female#monster x reader#monster x you#rakshasa x reader#rakshasa smut#rakshasa x you#rakshasa x human#monsterkink#monster kink#monster fucking#terato
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to: @vampwitchcovenâ from: @rbquartzâ
title: i think i love you?! | word count: 4,579 | summary: days before their first big performance at a local festival, benny cooks up a disguised truth potion to see if he can get any juicy gossip and/or a confession of love out of erica (for her sake), but his plan backfires as erica refuses and offers rory the potion instead, and he confesses some love of his own! | AO3 Link
âHeeey Saraaah! Ericaaa! Wait up!â
Sarah chuckles at Erica as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly, the pair pausing their strides to wait for Benny and Ethan to catch up. Bennyâs holding a water bottle thatâs full of⊠something , and heâs wearing a mischievous grin â never a good sign â and Ethan seems done with his shit, as usual.
âWhatâs up, dorks?â Sarah starts, tilting her head and putting her hands on her hips as the two girls turn to face the boys.
âWanna be a couple oâ guinea pigs for something I'm trying to whip up?â Benny asks, waving the bottle heâs holding in his hand at the pair and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, his expression growing a tad more mischievous. The liquid â a dark bronze-y color that shifts to a more purple hue with certain movements; and just slightly too thick to be a normal drink, but not quite thick enough to resemble a proper smoothie â sloshes in the bottle and shimmers slightly in the fluorescent lights. Erica scrunches her nose, and Sarah can only gawk at it and shake her head.
âIs this another one of your flavor experiments with some extra earth priestess-y âingredientsâ you found in your grandmaâs broom closet? Because if so, Iâm all good, thanks.â Sarah says, holding her hands up in front of her and taking a step back closer to Erica.
âYeah, plus it looks like you blended up copper wire, chunky glitter, and every purple and brown vegetable that you could find⊠which, knowing you, is something youâd definitely try and mix up to try and make it taste good.â
Benny splutters, trying to look to Ethan for defensive support. Ethan shrugs noncommittally, tilting his head to the side.
â Eeehh , I mean theyâre kinda right dude. Just the other day you tried to convince me that adding bananas to a quesadilla would taste good, but it was a texture nightmare!â
Benny shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively in Ethanâs direction.
âIt may have been a texture nightmare to you , but the savory-sweet greasiness of it all was chefâs kiss! â Benny emphasizes his point with a dramatic showing of bringing his fingertips to his lips, kissing them, then spreading his fingers outward with a flourish.
Erica and Sarah groan in disgust as Ethan scrunches up his nose and shudders at the memory, and Benny makes another dismissive noise in response, turning away slightly to pout to himself.
âYou guysâre just jealous that you donât have the same distinguished palate that I do! Amateurs, I swear.â
The group snorts and snickers at that, and Benny just rolls his eyes and turns back to the two girls again, holding the bottle up between his hands in a pleading motion.
âCome on , guys, please? Just one little sip? Just as a test! Itâs been something Iâve been trying to perfect and I think Iâve finally gotten it!â
Erica scoffs, raising an eyebrow suspiciously and narrowing her eyes at him slightly.
âAnd why canât you test it, smart guy? I thought you had a distinguished palate ? You scared itâll taste gross and want us to suffer the consequences in your place?â
âBesides,â Sarah cuts in, âarenât you guys gonna be performing with Rory at Whitechapelâs annual music festival thing in a couple of days? This canât be a good idea, especially if you accidentally somehow give a vampire food poisoning.â
âItâs nothing like that at all! Absolutely no ill intent, I swear!â Benny makes another show of placing his free hand on his heart, âbesides, I think the results will be more beneficial to you than they will to me, especially with our gig. SoooâŠ?â
Erica squints at him, not convinced in the slightest. She glances at Sarah, who mirrors her skeptical expression but simply shrugs. After a few moments of silence, she sighs and stretches her hand out towards him and his concoction.
âIf I take it, will you stop bothering us about it?â
Benny nods enthusiastically, planting the bottle firmly in her palm.
âYup!â He says, popping the p , â and Iâll leave you alone about any other wonderfully strange flavor combos I've cooked up forrr⊠two weeks!â
âMake it a month and youâve got a deal.â
Benny clicks his tongue disappointedly, but nods. Erica nods back, and places the bottle in her bag, and smirks at Sarah, who snickers. Bennyâs smile drops immediately and he starts to object, but Erica puts a finger up and wags it in his face.
âAh-ah-ah, I said I would take it, not try it in front of you. Nice try, smart guy . See ya at our rehearsal!â
âB-Butâ!â
Before he can say any more, Erica steps around the two boys, beckoning for Sarah to follow. Sarah smiles, waves at the pair, and follows behind her vampire companion. Benny groans quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose as Ethan shakes his head and elbows him hard, as if to say â I told you soâ .
âWhaddya even plan on doing with that anyway if youâre not gonna try it? Trash it?â Sarah inquires as she matches Ericaâs stride once more, raising an eyebrow at her. Erica shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, reaching back into her bag and pulling out the bottle, inspecting it.
âNot sure yet. Might actually give it to the only other person besides Benny who actually enjoys his⊠experiments . Sheâs got just as weird of a palate as he does,â Erica states, placing the bottle back in her bag, stashing it for later, âall I know is that we donât have to deal with Bennyâs food disasters for a whole month.â She beams smugly and tilts her chin up confidently. Sarah giggles, nodding in agreement.
âLetâs just go find Rory and see if they wanna take this off our hands.â
âTake what off your hands?â
Sarah and Erica both yelp, spinning around to look at Rory, who simply beams and waves at them.
âRory !â They exclaim in unison; Erica runs a hand (as gently as she can to not mess up her makeup) down her face, and Sarah just stares at him quizzically.
âWhere the heck did you come from??â
âThe opposite side of the hallway,â she says, spinning around and pointing towards the direction she came, âI saw you guys coming up this way, so I figured Iâd follow up with you guys to see when we can find time to practice for our show!â
âWell, I told Benny that weâd rehearse later, so sometime after school maybe? Itâd have to be at Bennyâs or Ethanâs too, since heâs got his drum set over there and I doubt heâd want to drag it anywhere else on his own, and weâre definitely not doing it for him,â Erica says matter-of-factly. Rory nods.
âAlright! Ooh! And we can finally vote on what song to do! I have a list, and we can listen to each of them and see what the vibe is.â Rory says, finishing with a slight wave of their hands, before he perks back up again. âOh, whatâd you wanna show me? You said you had something you wanted me to take off your hands?â
Erica nods, reaching back into her bag to pull out the bottle that Benny had given them a few minutes prior, the shimmering liquid inside sloshing around once more with the movement. Rory tilts his head quizzically, not unlike a puppy as they notice the odd liquidâs brown-to-purple tonal shift, and they quirk an eyebrow.
âWhat is that ?â
âDunno, but, itâs another one of Bennyâs weird flavor experiments, and I know that you can be a fan of those sometimes, and weâre definitely not gonna be trying this anytime soon,â Erica emphasizes her point by jiggling the bottle around a bit, the mystery liquid gurgling ever so slightly with the movement, âYou want it?â
Rory makes an âoâ shape with their mouth, and takes the bottle from her grasp, flipping the bottle up and down and back and forth, watching the way that the drink inside glistens.
âWicked. Iâll take it!â
âWhat songs did we say we were thinking about performing again?â Erica asks, picking at the strings on her guitar absentmindedly, âOne of the options is one of the songs Jack Black and his buddy did for a movie or something, right? âTenacious Dâ is their group, isnât it?â
Rory and Benny hum in affirmation, and Erica nods once before continuing, âI still say we should do something by Paramore or like⊠MCR. Single Tear, even.â
Benny â whoâd been tapping away gently at his drum set trying to get the sequence of notes for one of the songs right â pauses to sneer in Ericaâs direction.
âAbsolutely not. No emo music, we promised!â He says, jabbing one of his drumsticks in her direction.
âI donât know man, I do a pretty mean Gerard Way impression! Iâve always wanted to recreate his cheerleader outfit that he wore on MCRâs tour,â Rory cuts in, nodding to himself as he makes the âokayâ symbol. Erica snaps her fingers a few times in agreement, a quiet applause. Benny rolls his eyes.
âOkay seriously, what other options do we have? We have the Tenacious D song, which I'm pretty sure itâs called âI Think I Love Youâ. Then, we have âFlip Cityâ from the  Ghostbusters 2  soundtrack minus all the other fancy instruments, âWe Didnât Start The Fireâ, and âStacyâs Momâ. We need to vote  now , our musical careers are at stake!â
Erica rolls her eyes, and Rory nods vigorously.
âRight! My vote is for Tenacious D!â Rory pipes up, throwing his hand up in the air.
âI like your enthusiasm, Rory! I also vote for Tenacious D, on your behalf. Erica, what's your vote?â
âIâm not trying to be the odd one out here, so I guess my vote is also for that one.â
Benny claps once, pumping his fists. âPerfect! Letâs get to practicing!â
After a long while of practicing, Benny throws his drumsticks to the ground, only in mild frustration and just slightly overdramatic, and groans obnoxiously.
â  Okay  , I think thatâs enough practice for now. Whoâs up for a  Special Benny Snack  break?â
Erica groans, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head, but Rory perks up, picking up their hand and waving it excitedly. Benny grins.
âThatâs what Iâm talkinâ about! Be right back.â And with that, Benny heads into the house, leaving the two vampires alone. Erica fiddles and plucks at her guitar strings again as Rory plays with the microphone cord, twirling and untwirling it around her fingers. Erica, cool as a cucumber, leans towards Rory, catching their attention ever so slightly. They quirk an eyebrow at her, and she simply smirks right back. Uh oh.
âSooo⊠How are things with Ethan?â
Rory splutters, his face flushing as he nearly drops the microphone onto the floor. Erica chortles, wishing that vampires could show up on camera so she couldâve caught his reaction. Rory tries to casually clear his throat but fails, opting to try and lean against the nearby table.
âI-I donât know what youâre talking about! Things are perfectly fine, and perfectly  friendly . Weâre just friends. Just a couple of friendly dudes doing friendly dude things,â Rory pauses, trying to compose themself, before smirking right back at Erica. âI should be asking  you  how thingsâre going with  Sarah . I see how you look at each other sometimes!â
Itâs Ericaâs turn to flush and stutter now, and she juts out her bottom lip in a pout and crosses her arms in front of her chest, to which Rory just cackles. Before she can bite back with something smart, Benny re-emerges into the garage, a plate of seemingly innocent sandwiches in his hands.
âBehold, another one of  Benny the Magnificent âs greatest works!â
He tries to offer a sandwich â which seems to look like a normal grilled cheese sandwich, but upon closer inspection, anyone can see that it is  not just cheese in that sandwich, but peanut butter and possibly a pickle or two â to Erica, who quickly shakes her head, turning Benny and pushing him in Roryâs direction, who happily takes a sandwich from the platter. Benny takes his own as well, putting the extra sandwich to the side, a quiet  âsuit yourself!â  coming out of his mouth before he takes a huge bite, humming with approval at the taste. Erica tries not to gag, and Rory takes a bite of the sandwich as well, seemingly unfazed. After a few moments of eating in silence, Rory puts the sandwich down, and steeples their fingers in front of them, turning to face Benny, whoâs just finishing the last bite of his sandwich.
âBenny, I just gotta say itâŠâ
Benny perks up, awaiting to hear the usual praise coming from his friend.
âThese are ass, and if I have to take another bite I think I might vom.â
Bennyâs and Ericaâs jaws drop in sync as they look at Rory, who also seems surprised at himself for saying that as their hand shoots up to slap over their mouth.
â What?! Â I thought you liked my creations!â Benny cries, throwing his hands up in the air, and Ericaâs shocked expression begins to mold itself into a gleeful one.
âI do! I like all of them!â Rory yelps, trying to fix the situation, but the words keep tumbling out of his mouth, and itâs like watching a dam break at last. âMost of them. At least a few of them⊠okay, maybe just like one or two..?â
Benny gawks as Rory slaps her hands over her mouth again, realizing that talking isnât going to fix the situation anymore. Erica barks out a laugh, claps, and eventually her laughing fit forces her to double over and clutch her sides. Benny frowns at Erica and shoves her in an effort to get her to knock it off, causing her to stumble a bit as she tries to stay in her seat. Soon enough, the laughter dies down ever so slightly and is reduced to giggles, and Erica sits back up again. Benny glowers at her again, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouts like a little kid, slouching in his seat.
âCanât believe I thought you were a flavor connoisseur like I was, turns out it was all a lie.â Benny starts, before something clicks in his brain, and he sits up quickly and turns to Erica.
âErica! That drink I gave you, did you ever try it after we talked??â
Erica, still recovering, shakes her head no, wiping at the tears that had formed in her eyes.
âNo, and I never planned on it, dork! I just took it so youâd leave us alone, and gave it to⊠RoryâŠâ Erica pauses, the cogs in her brain turning as the pair turn to look at Rory, then back at each other, and Ericaâs expression grows dangerous with each passing second.
âBenny⊠what did you put in that drink?â
Benny shrinks in on himself ever so slightly, turning away from her sharp gaze and scratches at the back of his neck.
âI-it uhh, may or may not have been⊠a truth potion?â He squeaks out, shrugging sheepishly. Erica glares daggers, and Rory pales.
â What?! â They say simultaneously, Erica growling it out as Rory yelps again. Benny throws his hands up in front of him, waving them around wildly as he tries to defend himself, both with his words and from a hypothetical barrage from the two vampires sitting in front of him.
âIt was a truth potion! I wanted to give it to Erica so she can finally stop being a coward and confess her feelings for Sarah,  or  get some juicy vampire gossip from her, I donât know! I didnât plan on it being given to anyone else!â
âOf  course you didnât, dumbass! You never do!â Erica snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration and getting to her feet, and she begins to pace back and forth. âHow long do the effects last? Did you at least figure  that  out, Einstein?â
âProbably a day or so at least? Shouldnât be longer than that, so it should be no problem, see?â Benny says, trying to fix the situation, but Roryâs still not satisfied.
âA day or so?? What am I supposed to do, spill my guts to half of Whitechapel at the festival tonight? You guys already know I canât hold water, what makes you think Iâll be okay with a truth potion  and  singing a song about love? I didnât wanna tell Ethan like this, it had to be specialâ!â
Before he keeps on yammering, Rory slaps their hands over their mouth once again in an effort to keep the words in, eyes wide. Bennyâs eyebrows shoot up, and he blinks a couple times at the vampire. Rory blinks back, and Benny smirks.
âYou have a crush on Ethan and didnât think to tell me your master plan?â
It comes out muffled, but Rory still responds truthfully, to her dismay. ââS not jusâ a crush I fink, defânitâly more, but the chances of him liking me back have tâ be slim tâ none.â
Benny snorts and shrugs, a smirk still adorning his face.
âI donât know man, only one way to find out now!â
To that, Rory pouts, shaking his head and running their hands down their face and then shaking his hands to loosen them up a bit.
âWhatever. Letâs just get this over with, I guess.â
 Rory waits in the wings of the stage, looking over the crowd, his stomach twisting in knots. He fidgets with the cord of the microphone in his hands as he catches sight of Ethan and Sarah, lost in their own conversation as they wait for their friends to take the stage finally, the last act of the day. The tech crew is nearly done loading up Bennyâs drum set, making sure everything is set up correctly and is all tuned up alongside Ericaâs guitar. One of the crew stops by Rory, taking the mic from their hands and tapping it a couple times and mumbling into it to test it, before giving it back with a thumbs up. Rory nods in thanks, and turns back to look out at the crowd. Erica comes to stand just behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder gently.
 âEverything okay?â
 Rory half-shrugs. âWell, you know, just terrified. Not of the crowd, though.â
  Erica nods in understanding, patting their shoulder a couple times comfortingly. After a few moments, they both hear the voice of the stage manager further back in the wing say â    five minutes to places   ,â and turn back to look in their direction, spotting Benny nearby in the process.
 âThank you, five.â Rory and Erica say simultaneously. Rory takes a deep breath, shaking out his limbs and rocking back and forth slightly to calm their nerves. Erica pats them on the shoulder one more time, squeezing gently, and she walks off to go grab her guitar from the stagehand holding onto it.
 âLetâs get this show on the road, shall we?â Benny chirps, coming up behind Rory and bumping shoulders as he passes, heading to his drum set with drumsticks in hand. Rory takes another deep breath, and makes his way to the front end of the stage. She looks back over her shoulder at Erica and Benny, who both give her an encouraging thumbs up. She smiles, and gives one right back.
  âLetâs rock!â
 They patiently await for their cue, poised and ready, and suddenly the two sides of the curtain roll open, revealing the small band. The crowd â which was a bit larger of a turnout than they expected, but it is a festival after all â cheers, and Rory canât help but grin at the sight. They throw their free hand up in the air and wave it excitedly, bringing the mic up to their mouth with their other hand.
 âHelloooo Whitechapel!â They start, and the crowd whoops and whistles in response. âMy name is Rory, and these are my two friends Erica and Benny. Weâve got something special in store for you today, and we hope you enjoy it. This is âI Think I Love Youâ by Tenacious D!â
 The crowd cheers once more, and when they quiet down, Rory turns back to his two bandmates, counting them down silently, and then it begins.
 As both of Ericaâs and Bennyâs solos come to an end and the chorus is ready to begin, Rory takes a chance to step towards the end of the stage, a determined look in his eyes. Ethan watches, quirking an eyebrow as Rory points a finger directly at him, but then it all clicks, and his face flushes. Rory smiles sheepishly, and brings the mic back to his lips.
 âEthan, I have to tell you something that Iâve been thinking about for a long time, but didnât have the courage to say before⊠I think I love you.â
 The crowd cheers loudly and Rory pauses, thinking, before they shut their eyes and shake their head, waving their hand as if to shake off their last statement, and start again, growing more passionate with each word that comes out of their mouth.
 âYâknow what, scratch that, I do love you! But, Iâm gonna say âI think I love you,â because I donât even know if this is love, âcause Iâve never felt this feeling before, and I think I might be going insane!â
 The crowd cheers again, and Rory seems to forget where she is for a moment, but she shakes it off and an awkward smile breaks out onto her face. She tries to dance around casually as she searches the crowd again, looking for Ethan, and a full grin replaces the awkward one she had before as she finds him and sees that his expression matches hers â lovestruck.
 âHEY, I think I love you! So what am I so afraid of?!â Rory breaks into song again with added vigor, bouncing around the stage and trying not to get tangled in the microphone cord. Ethan canât help but watch with adoration, and Sarah grabs him by the shoulders and begins to shake him back and forth, squealing in his ear. Benny fist pumps once, a huge grin on his face, and Erica smirks, both of them feeding off of Roryâs energy and playing with added intensity.
     âDo you think I have a case? Let me ask you to your face,â Rory turns back around, looking for Ethan in the crowd once more, and once she finds him she outstretches her hand towards him, speaking to Ethan directly. Ethan beams.
 âDo you think you love me? I think I love you!â
 âThank you, Whitechapel! Good night!â
 As the crowd roars and the curtains close, Sarah practically shoves Ethan through the throngs of people, trying to work their way backstage. A few handfuls of people notice the pair and try to move out of their way, but the rest are still buzzing with the excitement of the performance that Rory, Erica, and Benny just gave. Ethan tries to mumble âoopsâ or âsorryâ to anyone they bump into, but Sarah comes to the rescue and just yells âcoming through!â to anyone within earshot, and that seems to work at least somewhat. Eventually, they make their way to the wings of the stage, and push past the curtain, weaving through the tech crew that are working to clean up. Sarah eventually spots Erica near the dressing rooms, and throws up her arms, waving to try and catch her attention.
  âErica!â
 At the mention of her name, Erica whips her head around, until her eyes land on Sarah. She smiles softly at her, and when she spots Ethan following right behind Sarah, her smile turns into a knowing smirk. Ethanâs face turns bright red, and Erica snickers.
 âGo get âem, lover boy!â She quips, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb at one of the dressing rooms. Ethan waves her off, his blush spreading to his ears and neck. He can hear the girls start to giggle and chatter away about something else as he walks to the door that Erica had gestured at, and he stands in front of it awkwardly as he tries to think of something intelligent he could possibly say to Rory instead of just allowing his brain to turn into a bag of bricks. He feels like with the performance alone, Rory had already put the whole thing and the feelings he had into words so perfectly, what else could he possibly add? As heâs standing there lost in thought, the door suddenly flies open and Ethan jumps.
 âShoot, sorry, my bad, Iâll movââ
 âOh! Ethan, hey!â
 Ethan stops, his mouth agape as he realizes heâs now face-to-face with the exact vampire he needed to talk to⊠completely unprepared to do so.
 â...Rory!â
 Rory beams at him, and Ethan feels like his brain completely short-circuits at the sight.
 âUhh⊠Iâ uhm. You⊠you did. Good. You did good!â He somehow manages to stutter out, and Rory snickers.
 âThanks, man. Although, that stuttering was a bit painful to watch,â Rory says, before their eyes widen and they cover their mouth with their hand in horror. âOh my god, I am    so   sorry. Benny gave Erica this stupid truth potion which she then gave to    me   because    she   didnât wanna drink it, and of course    I drank it all, andâ!â
 Ethan places his hand over the one Rory has shielding their mouth, and chuckles. If vampires could blush, Ethan knows that Rory would be just as red as he is. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the mention of his best friendâs failed plan.
 âI told Benny that his plan would never work, Ericaâs too smart for that,â He says, then his eyes widen as well, and he tries to recover, âN-not to say that youâre not smart or anything, because you are and can be, i-itâs justââ
 Rory giggles, taking Ethanâs hand in both of her own, and Ethan never thought he could do it but he manages to blush darker than before; he has to be radiating heat now, thereâs no way he isnât, but either Rory doesnât notice or he simply doesnât say anything, to Ethanâs relief.
 âHey, itâs okay! Youâre good, weâre good,â She says, pausing to look down at their joined hands. She smiles, but furrows her brows a bit, and Ethan tilts his head questioningly.
 âDid⊠did you like the song? It wasnât supposed to be a confession-of-love performance, just a regular one, but thatâs how it ended up, I guess. Thanks to the dumb truth potion, and a spur-of-the-moment decision I made at our rehearsal yesterday.â
 âI loved it, you guys did great. You did great. I loved watching it. Watching you.â
 Rory beams again, and Ethan grins right back, until he remembers something, and smirks.
 âOh! To answer your questions from before â I think you do have a case, and I do think I love you.â Ethan adds cleverly. Rory blinks at him a couple times, confused, before it finally clicks and he cackles, pulling Ethan close and wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him in a hug. Ethan squawks at the sudden movement, but recovers quickly, breaking into a fit of giggles and squeezing right back.
 âI love you, Ethan!â
 âI love you, Rory.â
#submission#mbav#my babysitters a vampire#my babysitter's a vampire#mbav holiday exchange#mbavholidayexchange#ethan morgan#sarah fox#erica jones#rory keaner#benny weir#ethory
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Why Should I Consider Switching to a Copper Water Bottle?Â
In a world increasingly prioritizing health and environmental consciousness, the choices we make in our everyday lives play a crucial role. One such choice gaining prominence is the switch to a copper water bottle. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the myriad reasons why you should consider making this transition. From the historical legacy of copper to its health benefits, sustainability aspects, and practical considerations, we will explore every facet of the copper water bottle phenomenon.
Historical Legacy of Copper in Water Storage:
Copper has been a trusted material for storing water for centuries, with its roots deeply embedded in various cultures across the globe. This section will take a historical journey, shedding light on how ancient practices of using copper vessels have paved the way for the modern resurgence of copper bottles.
Health Benefits of Copper Water Bottles:
Copper water bottles have gained popularity not only for their aesthetic appeal but also for the numerous health benefits they offer. The interaction between copper and water has been studied for centuries, and emerging research sheds light on the positive impact it can have on our well-being. Here are some key health benefits associated with using copper water bottles:
Antibacterial Properties:
Copper possesses natural antibacterial and antimicrobial properties. Studies have shown that copper can eliminate a wide range of harmful bacteria and viruses. This includes bacteria like E. coli and Salmonella, making it an excellent choice for maintaining water hygiene.
Improved Digestive Health:
Copper is known to stimulate the gastrointestinal tract, aiding in the detoxification process. It helps the body break down and eliminate waste more effectively, contributing to improved digestion. This can be particularly beneficial for individuals struggling with digestive issues.
Anti-Inflammatory Effects:
Chronic inflammation is linked to various health issues, including arthritis and cardiovascular diseases. Copper, when consumed in trace amounts, may exhibit anti-inflammatory effects. It can potentially help reduce inflammation in the body and alleviate symptoms associated with inflammatory conditions.
Boosts the Immune System:
Copper is an essential trace mineral that plays a crucial role in the functioning of the immune system. It helps in the production of immune cells and supports the bodyâs defense mechanisms. Regular intake of copper-infused water can contribute to a robust immune system.
Joint Health and Arthritis Relief:
Copper is involved in the formation of collagen, a key component of bones and connective tissues. This makes it beneficial for joint health and may provide relief for individuals suffering from arthritis. Copperâs anti-inflammatory properties also play a role in managing joint pain and stiffness.
Stimulates Brain Function:
Copper is known to play a role in the synthesis of neurotransmitters, which are essential for proper brain function. Adequate copper levels may contribute to improved cognitive function, memory retention, and overall brain health.
Aids in Melanin Production:
Copper is a vital component in the production of melanin, the pigment responsible for the color of our skin, hair, and eyes. While excessive copper intake can lead to discoloration, an adequate amount is crucial for maintaining healthy skin and hair.
Supports Thyroid Function:
Copper is involved in the regulation of thyroid hormones, which are crucial for maintaining a healthy metabolism. Proper thyroid function is essential for overall well-being, and copper contributes to this by supporting the thyroid gland.
Environmental Impact and Sustainability:
As sustainability becomes a key consideration, the environmental impact of our choices takes center stage. This part of the article will highlight:
Recyclability:Â Copperâs recyclable nature, emphasizes its eco-friendly credentials.
Copper Water Bottle Wholesale:Â Encouraging bulk purchases to amplify the sustainable impact.
Addressing Concerns and Misconceptions:
For a complete understanding, potential concerns must be addressed. This section will tackle common misconceptions such as copper leaching and offer maintenance tips to ensure optimal performance.
Choosing the Right Copper Water Bottle
Copper water bottles have gained popularity for their potential health benefits and aesthetic appeal. However, not all copper water bottles are created equal. To ensure you make an informed choice, consider the following factors when selecting the right copper water bottle for your needs:
Material and Purity:
Opt for bottles made from pure copper. Look for those labeled as 100% pure copper to ensure youâre getting the maximum health benefits. Be cautious of bottles with coatings or linings, as they may interfere with the interaction between copper and water.
Design and Craftsmanship:
Assess the craftsmanship and design of the bottle. A well-crafted copper water bottle should have a seamless construction without any joints or welds. Check for a smooth finish and a sturdy base to ensure durability.
Size and Capacity:
Consider your daily water intake when selecting the size of the bottle. Copper water bottles come in various capacities, so choose one that suits your lifestyle. Smaller bottles are convenient for on-the-go use, while larger ones are ideal for home or office use.
Lid and Seal:
Examine the bottleâs lid and seal. A tight-fitting lid with a secure seal prevents leaks and ensures that the water remains uncontaminated. Look for bottles with screw-on lids or caps that are easy to open and close.
Weight and Portability:
Copper is heavier than some other materials, so consider the weight of the bottle, especially if you plan to carry it with you throughout the day. Look for a balance between sturdiness and portability based on your preferences.
Maintenance and Cleaning:
Copper can tarnish over time, creating a natural patina. If you prefer the shiny look, choose a bottle with a lacquer coating to slow down the tarnishing process. Consider how easy the bottle is to clean, as regular maintenance is essential to prevent bacterial growth.
Authenticity and Certification:
Purchase copper water bottles from reputable sources. Authenticity is crucial, and some manufacturers may provide certification to confirm the purity of the copper used. Research the brand and read customer reviews to ensure youâre buying from a reliable source.
Purpose and Intended Use:
Determine the primary purpose of your pure copper water bottle. If youâre looking for a stylish accessory, focus on the design and aesthetics. For those prioritizing health benefits, emphasize purity and functionality.
Conclusion:
As we conclude, the guide will summarize the holistic benefits of switching to a copper water bottle. Encouraging readers to explore and buy copper water bottle, the article will reiterate the availability of wholesale options, making it easier for individuals to embark on a wellness and sustainability journey.
Make a conscious choice today by embracing the allure of copper and contributing to a healthier, more sustainable tomorrow with a pure copper bottle.
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Hero
An NSFW Dragon Age fic for kaijuburgers as part of the 2020Â @black-emporium-exchange | m!Cousland x Loghain | Read it on A03
Oren Cousland is drunk.
But not drunk enough.
Thereâs a serenity, surely, waiting at the bottom of a bottle that he hasnât found yet. And he is nothing if not determined to find it.
Stubborn determination has carried him this far, after all.
Heâs in the kitchens â second kitchens? Some over-stuffed yet tidy room near the wine cellar. It smells comfortingly of food and flame, and is as much a balm to his frazzled senses as the drink. Moreso perhaps.
There are oil lamps strung along the walls, but the fire in the room is smokey-low and dim, flickering erratically as though uncertain if it ought to go out. He lifts his latest bottle and pours. The glass fills so quickly some of the wine spills out over the rim and over his fingers. A puddle of deep burgundy forms on the table, glossy as velvet.Â
The first time they kissed, Loghain wore a burgundy tunic.
But that was years ago.
And he is not nearly drunk enough to go wandering into those memories, no matter how close they press to the surface.
Oren lowers his mouth to the glass, carefully slurping up the excess wine as the door to the room slides open, wood creaking and shifting heavily. Alastair blinks. âSorry. Didnât think anyone would be here. What are you doing up at this hour?â
The drunken detritus on the table should be obvious enough.Â
Oren lifts his wine glass carefully. Itâs still rather full. âCelebrating.âÂ
Alastair raises a single auburn brow, but makes no comment. Instead he crosses the room, boots dragging heavily across the polished floors and sits in the chair opposite his fellow Warden.Â
Or, ex- fellow Warden. No one has bothered to explain if Kings get to be Wardens after all.
âWe won, didnât we?â Oren says, voice rough from the wine. âSuccessful landsmeet and all.â
Only it doesn't feel that way. Not really.
Surely victory ought to carry with it some semblance of satisfaction. Of accomplishment.
Alistair is quiet and still. Brow furrowed. Everything about him has changed to a striking degree. So much at odds with the half-giddy, nervous energy he usually displays. âWhat do you intend to do with him?â
Loghain.
Strong hands and broad shoulders. Eyes like grey steel in the candlelight. A hard mouth, and hard kisses. Each one sweet, and salty, and stolen.
Oren dips his fingertip into the puddle of spilled wine, and tries not to frown. âYouâre the King now. I should think that deciding the fate of prisoners to the crown falls to you.âÂ
For the barest moment, Alistair looks old. Then he reaches across the table and snags Orenâs wineglass, draining whatâs left in three long swallows. âLoghainâs crimes were foremost against the Order. Youâve been our Warden Commander for the better part of a year. Doesnât matter that you were never officially promoted.â
âWeisshaupt might disagree.â Oren says drily, and pours Alistair another glass of wine.
âWeisshaupt can go bugger itself, for all the help theyâve been.â Alistair mutters. He swirls the wine in the glass, but doesnât drink. âItâs your call. Iâll stand by you, whatever you decide. I owe you that, at least.â
âPoor thanks, if you ask me.â Orenâs mouth twists into something that is almost a smile. âCouldnât you just shower me with riches and titles? Half-naked noble women?â
âI hear Gwaren needs a new Teryn.â
He gives Alistair a startled look even as his insides twist, unsure if itâs a joke or not. Alistair is rarely cruel, butâŠÂ
⊠things have changed.
Alistair holds his eyes for a moment, copper gaze unreadable before he grimaces and heaves a tired sigh. âSorry. Itâs⊠itâs been a day.â
âI know,â Oren swallows hard. â For what itâs worth, Iâm⊠sorry too.â
âIâm sorry⊠your Majesty.â Alistairâs brow quirks up, and the line of his mouth eases, just a little. Just for a moment.Â
Oren snorts, and clinks his wine bottle against Alistairâs wine glass. âIâm sorry, your Majesty.â
Alistair takes a drink, and the line of his mouth twists. âIn war, victory.â he says so quietly, it is almost to himself.
*
In the morning, when Oren wakes, it isnât really morning. The sun is already climbing down from his peak, and he has the grain of the table etched into his left cheek, a monstrous headache thundering through his right temple, and a deep sense of regret for that last bottle of wine.
Or bottles. Plural.
Heâs not even sure how many he regrets, because heâs not sure how many he had â some industrious soul has already dispatched the remains of the celebration. But it had been an expensive evening.
And for all his excess he had never quite reached that floaty place where he could forget about Loghain, their past, and the decision laid out before him.
Loghain had been found guilty of treason, and had been summarily stripped of his titles and position. Even his daughter had failed to speak in his defense.
Fereldan judgement is swift. Fereldan punishment, even swifter. The nobility may have backed them in the Landsmeet, but it would not go well for the new King were he to falter in the dispatch of justice.
But Loghainâs crimes carried a particularly personal sting for Oren.Â
So he bathes, and changes into his cleanest uniform, donning a warriorâs full plate. Even strapping steel to his hips. He doesnât shave. His hands shake too badly to manage a blade, but the quarter-inch of stubble makes him feel unkempt â and the bloodshot eyes donât help â too much like a year-old Warden who sleeps in a muddy tent, and too little like a man fit to judge the Hero of River Dane.
He tugs a hand through his dark curls feeling suddenly as though he were fifteen again, half in love with a man heâd known since boyhood, watching him cross the length of his fatherâs hall, and silently begging to be noticed.
He hadnât been â not then.Â
But then, one year, there had been a kiss. And then another. And then it was more than just kisses. And Loghainâs yearly visits had become twice a year, and then, every few months, and then every month.
And Oren had thoughtâÂ
But then Loghainâs visits had ceased abruptly, and without explanation.
That had hurt.
But what came next hurt even worse.
Rendon Howe, Loghainâs right hand, had swept in and murdered Orenâs entire family.
And everything that had happened from then until now had been a blur of grief and betrayal and bloodshed.Â
He frowns at himself in the mirror.
This will be the first time in two years that he has spoken to Loghain alone.
He remembers the last time, though theyâd barely spoken then. Loghain had kissed him breathless in the hall outside his room. And insideâŠ
Oren shakes his head as hard as he can to stop the memories from coming. Even so they punch through, bright bursts of starlight behind his eyelids. The drag of Loghainâs fingertips across bare skin. The feel of his mouth curling into a smile. The taste of him. The mass of dark hair in Orenâs hands. The rumbling sounds of pleasure Loghain always kept locked tight in his chest.Â
It feels like a thousand years ago.
Everything has changed.
Everything. Â
And yet as he takes the long way to the part of the castle where Loghain is being held, he has to pause, and lean against the wall, hand against his face to still his breathing. Thereâs a sick sort of unease in his belly. Giddiness and dread and enough wine that heâs still halfway to drunk.
Maybe he just needs a good vomit.
There are a pair of guards stationed outside the door, but he orders them away. Whatever he means to say is for Loghainâs ears only.Â
Oren takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open.
It is not what he had expected of a prison.
The room is large and richly furnished, with polished wood, and jewel-toned tapestries, and furs flung across every bare surface. There are no windows, but a fireplace is lit and well-stocked, casting the room in a warm, dramatic light.Â
There are benefits to being the Queenâs father, it seems, no matter oneâs crimes.Â
Loghain is sitting near the fireplace, with a large book open on his lap, dark hair pulled back into a neat tail. Heâs unarmed and unarmored, but Gwarenâs heraldic crest, a wyvern, done in gold thread, still winds down one of his shoulders.
Figures.
âLoghain.âÂ
Loghain looks up slowly, supremely unconcerned. One finger presses to the page, marking his place in his book. âHas Maricâs bastard decided whatâs to be done with me?â
Oren glares, hands curling into fists at his sides, though he refuses to rise to Loghainâs insult. âYour King,â he says instead, leaning heavily on the word, âhas sent me.â
âYou,â Loghain says, voice expressionless. He looks Oren up and down with a calm sort of intensity. And if he recognizes him â or remembers what they once shared â he doesnât acknowledge it. He tilts his head, inviting an answer. But the shadows shift along the sharp planes of his face, and all at once heâs too hard to look at â too imperious, and starkly beautiful, even in his defeat.
Oren looks away.
The silence between them stretches before Loghain speaks again. âDo you know they call you the Hero of Ferelden?â
Oren clenches his jaw. âNo one calls me that.â
âThey will.â He snaps the book on his lap shut. The sound is startling enough that Oren looks back at him. âThat should please you. You always did love⊠heroes.â
Orenâs heart gives a small, painful jolt.Â
âSo you do remember me.â
Loghain looks at him for a long time. And the world spins and spins, flickering between what was and what is.Â
âAt Ostagar you didnât⊠you didnât evenâŠâ
âWhat would you have had me do?â Loghainâs words are sharp, and his eyes even sharper.Â
Oren has no answer. Nothing that isnât childish or petulant. Thousands died at Ostagar.Â
Duncan died at Ostagar.Â
Half of all living Wardens died at Ostagar.
He shakes his head, breathing heavily through his nose. He can still remember the stink of the battlefield, even before it began. An army is all noise and sweat and shit even before it is broken into pieces. And he and Alistair had watched it all from their tower. The tidal wave of Darkspawn crawling over the men below, and Loghainâs banners turning round, leaving them all to their fate. Thereâd been no sound ââ they were up too high. But Alistairâs screams filled his ears, drowning out the tiny crack that splintered across his heart.
He really is a fucking child.
Loghain stands and moves closer, and Oren shifts from foot to foot. He won't back away, he won't. But having Loghain so close makes him uneasy.Â
The table at the center of the room is laden with food, mostly untouched. Loghain uncorks a bottle and begins to pour. âWine?â
Oren makes a sound of disbelief. âNo.â
âOriââ
âDonât call me that!â Oren roars. Rage rises up so fast it nearly chokes him. âMy family called me that. Before Rendon Howe had them slaughtered!â Â
He doesnât even realize he has his sword in his hand until Loghain moves to take it from him, grasping his wrist and twisting so sharply that for a moment everything goes numb from his elbow down. Thereâs a burst of pain, sharp and sweet, and Loghain has his sword.
This close his armor will make little difference. Loghain is well known for his unholy strength and brutality on the battlefield. And he has already tried to kill Oren. More than once.
More than twice.
A question burns his mouth. âDid you know?â
Loghain doesnât answer, but his head tilts back slightly.
âDid. you. know.â Each word is as sharp as a slap, but itâs Oren who feels it. A bright broad sting across his heart. But he has to know. He has to.
âI did.â
Without hesitating, Oren smashes his forehead against the bridge of Loghainâs nose. Everything whites out in a starburst of pain. The two men stagger away from each other swearing breathlessly. Oren holds himself up one handed as the room tilts wildly before righting itself with a nauseating jolt.
Loghain is glaring at him, blood all down his upper lip and down his chin. His nose doesnât look broken, but itâs already beginning to swell. âIdiot,â he says stiffly and uses the hem of his tunic to stem the blood-flow.
Oren chuckles, thinking he is definitely, certainly, still at least a little drunk.
And maybe brain-damaged now.
Loghain tosses the sword aside, still glaring.
Maybe theyâre both brain-damaged.
âOri,â Loghain starts.Â
âFuck you,â he says.
Loghain sighs. âWhy do you ask questions when you donât want the answer?â
âThatâs fucking retorical too.â Oren mutters. The bottle has tipped over, spilling a stream of wine onto the carpet below.
The first time they kissed, Loghain wore a burgundy tunic.
Loghain still has the tunic clamped over his nose. Fine linen spotted with blood. He pinches down a few more times, but the bleeding is already beginning to slow.
âIs it broken?â Oren asks.
âProbably.â
âGood.â
Loghain narrows his eyes and Oren nearly laughs again, still a little dizzy. âYou donât headbutt someone in a fight.â
âI didnât realize we were fighting. I thought you were admitting to your part in the slaughter of my family.â
âNo,â Loghain says, making a face at the splotches of blood all down his tunic. He peels it off, wads it into a ball and casts it into the fire. âYou were asking questions you didnât want answered.â
Oren wishes they hadnât spilled the wine. It would give him something to do besides trying not to look at Loghainâs bare chest.Â
âAlistair gave you the choice, didnât he?â
 Oren grunts, and picks at the grapes on the table. âWhy? Trying to seduce me into sparing your life?â
Loghainâs mouth twists into something too dangerous to be a smile. âNever had to seduce you before.â
Now itâs Orenâs turn to glare even as his cock gives a jolt  in response. It never took much from Loghain to get him hard. But heâs older now, and hopefully not so easily baited.
But â
âYour birthday was two days ago,â Loghain says softly.Â
Oren freezes. Even his heart stops beating, if only for a moment.
âEvery year I came you asked me for a kiss.â Loghain takes a step forward, then pauses, brows knitted into a frown. His hand twitches at his side, fingers clenching and unclenching in tiny, measured movements. âI never understood why. But I gave it to you.â
âYou never understood why you kissed me?â
âI never understood why you wanted to be kissed.â
Despite everything, Orenâs chest feels tight with a sudden longing. âI was raised on stories of you. The Hero of River Dane. The right hand of the King. You,â he says carefully, âwere like the sun.â
âMaric was the sun. He was the golden boy. I was only ever his shadow.â
âNot to me,â Oren breathes. âYou were my first.â
âI assumed,â Loghain says dryly.
Oren bites back a dozen sarcastic replies in an instant, but heâs tired, and his head hurts. And all that is left to him is honesty. âI was in love with you.âÂ
The sudden flare of anger in Loghain's eyes isnât bright, but cold and bitter. He reaches out, almost calmly, and grasps Oren by the throat.
Itâs so still and deliberate that Oren doesnât jerk away, not until Loghain begins to squeeze. He tries to claw Loghainâs fingers off his neck, but Loghain barrels him backward, until the back of his legs hit the bed and they both tip over. Oren writhes trying to break away, but Loghain is monstrously strong, and has all the leverage.
He folds his hand into a fist and drives it into Loghainâs mid-section, but he uses the arm thatâs still mostly numb, so Loghain grunts, but doesnât let go.
âMurderer!â Oren hisses, thrashing ineffectually. âFucking coward!âÂ
Loghain has an extraordinary voice. Low, and rough and impeccably expressive. It could be bright, or thunderous, or sharply brittle as ice. But now it is so thin and thready it is difficult to hear. âYou were never in love, Ori. You mistook hero worship for love, and now that youâve finally grown up and realized the world isnât made up of fairy tales, and happy endings, you want to blame me. Well go ahead.â
Oren grunts and tries to kick out, but Loghainâs weight is across his shins.
âOne day there will be a boy who looks at you the way you looked at me. And you will have to explain to him that you became a hero because there was nothing, and no one that you werenât willing to shatter to do what must be done.â His fingers tighten, mercilessly. âHeroes arenât kind. Heroes arenât just. They donât have that luxury.âÂ
Oren makes a choked sound as his breath falters. Tears run into his ears.
âAnd then heâll look at you the way you are looking at me now,â Loghain says quietly.Â
Oren manages to get a couple of fingers wedged beneath Loghainâs grip, and sucks in a thready breath. âThatâs... because youâre choking me, you fuck.âÂ
âOr maybe all you ever wanted was a hand on your cock that wasnât your own.â
Loghain leans in, the thumb of his free hand sweeping against Orenâs bottom lip and for a brief moment Oren thinks he might try to bite Loghain. But all he does is take a single, strained breath.Â
And wait.
And wait.
His eyes flutter closed.
The grip on his neck relaxes a little.
And Loghain shifts closer, breath warm and unsteady. âOri...â
The sound of his name in Loghainâs mouth twists inside him. He makes a tiny sound, dismay and distress and a bright streak of shame at his own inexplicable arousal. But then Loghain is kissing him, and the tumult of emotions dissolves into pure shock.
Loghain smells the same. Feels the same. Tastes the same.Â
And Oren cannot help but press deeper into the kiss, even as his hand comes up to the broad expanse of Loghainâs chest, hovering, certain at any moment that heâll push Loghain away.
But then he feels Loghain fumbling first at his belt, and then at the laces of his breeches, and then Loghainâs hand is cupping his bare cock.Â
Orenâs head spins. He makes a sound that's a sob and a prayer, all harsh and broken and begging.
But his hand slips down Loghainâs chest, and starts working his trousers open. Loghainâs nearly entirely hard, and the shape of him in Orenâs hand is familiar and strange and overwhelming.Â
What is he doing?Â
He ought to squeeze the fuckerâs balls until they pop.
Loghain slots their bare cocks together, wraps them in his large hand.Â
And Oren makes a shuddery sound through his nose. Maker, itâs been so long...
âDid Maricâs boy not do this for you?â
âNo,â he manages. âFuck you.â
Loghain chuckles, the sound a low rumble. And Oren realizes heâs never heard him laugh.
And he wantsâŠ
Maker what does he want?
Loghainâs grip on his throat eases deliberately. âTake a breath,â he says.
Oren does. A full, sweet lungful, even though it hurts, and it hurts when Loghain grips his neck once again, clamping down.Â
It goes quick after that. Theyâre both too riled up to savor anything. Loghain twists his hand around the pair of them as Oren tries to thrust up. There isnât enough slick, but the sensation is still dizzying â sharp and insistent and demanding. Waves of pleasure rocket up Orenâs spine and radiate through his core. He grabs a handful of Loghainâs hair tugging him down for another kiss, until heâs thoroughly breathless and quite literally seeing stars.
Their cocks slide together, Loghainâs thumb brushing over the wet tips and the hand at his throat is like a vice, anchoring him, even as he drifts higher and higher and far far away. And Loghain growls something, rhythm suddenly jerky and harsh, and thereâs a sudden slick of heat between them, and yes yesâ
He bows off the bed as he comes, thrusting hard into Loghainâs fist. Any sound he might make is choked out of him, and thereâs only a strangled silence and the quick sure sound of Loghainâs hand, as he guides Oren through his orgasm.Â
Then all at once the hand at Orenâs throat is gone, and Loghain shifts, bending, taking his spent cock in his mouth, sucking hard enough it feels like he may bruise.Â
Oren makes a startled cry, jerking bonelessly as the sensation rises, so sharp itâs almost painful.Â
But itâs gone nearly at once, and then Loghain is kissing him again, mouth tasting of copper and salt and sin.Â
A goodbye kiss.
They both know it.
âLoghainâŠâ Orenâs voice cracks. Broken, ragged thing. âFor the crimes you have committed against Fereldan, you will be put to death.âÂ
The room is perfectly quiet. As is Loghainâs expression. But he reaches down and brushes the backs of his knuckles across the faint stubble on Orenâs cheek. The only bit of tenderness he has shown the entire night.
His eyes shine faintly with approval.
Oren slides a hand across his own abdomen, half expecting to find himself gutted and bleeding though Loghain had tossed away the sword. It hurts just as much.Â
More, even.
He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, as much to stop the ragged sounds of his breathing as to scrub away the feeling of the kiss, of the taste of himself and Loghain in his mouth.Â
*
It is a small group who gathers in the early morning for the execution. The weather in the courtyard is properly morose. The sky, a solid sheet of grey, dark with the threat of rain. It is wet everywhere, the trees droop, heavy with dew, and the ground is scattered with silver-brown puddles.
It is a rather peaceful place to die.
None of Loghainâs supporters are present. Neither is the Queen. But Alistair is there, dressed in his Warden armor, and hefting a great, two-handed sword. He has a wide silver band upon his brow, not precisely a crown, but a clear mark of his new status. With his hair slicked back, and his expression dark and severe, he looks nothing at all like the young man heâd been â and every inch a King.
In turn, Loghain looks like the man heâs always been. Straight backed and severe, head to toe in black doeskin and velvet, with his hair loose upon his shoulders. He looks like the whole affair is beneath him. The spectacular bruising across the bridge of his nose and beneath both eyes is all that is out of place.Â
âLoghain Mac Tir,â Alistairâs voice cuts through the silence. âFor crimes against Ferelden and her people, and for grievous harm done to the Order during a blight; the Ferelden Wardens sentence you to death. Kneel.â
Nothing shifts in Loghainâs expression as he drops silently to his knees. He obeys, but concedes nothing.
Alistair raises his sword, the weight of it dragging against time itself. Slowly slowly the world stills.
A drop of rain suspended in the sky.
It might be blood. It ought to be blood.
Red. Crimson. Burgundy.
The first time they kissed, Loghain wore a burgundy tunic.
Oren closes his eyes. Hears his own breath begin to splinter apart.
He knows what happens next. The slice of the sword. The thunk and squish of finality. The silence. Long, dark hair spilling across the flagstones, still and wet. Grey-blue eyes unseeing, slowly filling with rain.
Oren gags.
âL-LoghainâŠâ His voice is weak. Scratchy and half-broken from the bruises from Loghainâs hands that ring his throat. He coughs, nearly retching, and steps forward. âLoghainâŠâ He takes another, and then another, and then his feet carry him, tripping over himself, stumbling as he rushes forward faster than the blade can fall. âI conscript you to the Wardens!â It feels like something tears, and he clutches at his throat, coughs again, and spits out blood. âLoghain Mac Tir, I conscript you to the Wardens.â This time at least, his voice is clear.
Stillness.
Silence.
No matter how long he lives heâll never forget the look on Alistairâs face.Â
A raw thing, torn open and bleeding for the world to see. Then Alistair swallows it all behind a mask of utter blankness. He lowers the sword slowly. âOut.â
No one moves.Â
âEveryone, out!â Alistair bellows.Â
It takes a moment. Long, shocked moments of silence and shuffling feet before the courtyard is cleared. Only the Wardens, and the new Warden conscript remain.
It begins to rain.
Loghain turns to Oren, still kneeling. âHave you gone mad?â he asks mildly.
âThe Wardens need men.â He answers Loghain, but looks at Alistair, pleading. âWhatever theyâve done... their crimes are erased once they are conscripted and take the joining.â
Alistairâs shoulderâs shift, a nervous sort of twitch like he wants to shake his head, but canât.Â
âIâm sorry,â Oren tells Alistair raggedly.
âI told you it was your decision, so Iâll stand by it.â A breath, and Alastair flings the sword to the ground in a clatter of steel, expression stony. âBut I wonât make that mistake again.â
He stalks away just as the skies spill in earnest. The rain becomes a downpour, a rush of sound that swallows even the broken sounds of Orenâs breathing. A single flicker of lighting arcs across the sky.Â
Oren closes his eyes, thunder in his ears. Rain sting the back of his neck, and slide beneath his collar. He doesnât realize heâs tipping over until he feels his knees slam into the wet cobblestones.Â
He feels Loghainâs arms come up around him, fingers at the collar of his uniform, undoing the buttons, easing the constriction against his throat. It takes a few moments kneeling together in the rain, but Orenâs breath comes easier.Â
âHe hates me now,â Oren says hoarsely.Â
âItâs me he hates.â
Oren shakes his head wearily. âIâve married him to a woman who doesnât love him. Bedded him to a woman who canât stand him. And now this.âÂ
Loghain snorts. âIf keeping his favor was so important, you should not have spared me.â
Oren feels something slide down the bridge of his nose. Tears, or rain. âWhy is throwing people away so easy for you?â
âYou mistake what is easy, for what is necessary,â Loghain sighs. âIâm not sure youâll make a very good hero.â
âUnlike you?â
Loghain takes a deep breath. âI am not so concerned with being good.â
âWell thatâs a fucking revelation.â Oren mutters.
Unbelievably, Loghain laughs. It isnât a cruel sound. Or a bright one. It is soft and strangely warm.
It is still raining heavily.
And Loghainâs arms are still around him.
Oren swallows hard. âWhy is it so easy to fall in love, and so hard to fall out of it?â
Loghain doesnât reply.
And he doesnât let go.
âI didnât spare you,â Oren elaborates after a moment. âYou may die in the joining. Or get promptly eaten by an archdemon if you donât. And the uniforms are itchy.â
âI consider myself unspared.â Loghain says solemnly.Â
And together they sit in the rain, not speaking. Not moving.
And for a brief moment, Oren thinks he feels the touch of a feather-light kiss upon his brow, but he canât be sure.
1/1 my tumblr writing masterpost
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tell me that you love me
shirabu kenjirou x reader words; 1038 synopsis; loss is often followed up with gain
After the loss to Karasuno, it felt like everything stopped. Shirabu grasped at his chest, his heart paused as he realized that it was the end. Sure, he would have his third year, but he couldnât stop the feeling of guilt that started pouring over his head until it has completely soaked him to his toes. If he had only listened to Semi. If he hadnât lost his cool. If he hadnât-
âShut up.â She threw a pillow into his face. She walked over with her blue water bottle. âDrink all of it. Youâre probably dehydrated from all the crying.â
âY/n!â
âJust stating the truth Kenjiro.â She sat down next to him, the bed dipping slightly. It was just the two of them in Shirabuâs dormitory since his dormmate had decided to go home for the week because of stress. Although, Y/n had a sneaking suspicion that the roommate left because of the pure anger and irritation that practically radiated off of Shirabu.
Growing up with Shirabu was never an easy task. He was even more of a hot head and got easily pissed off. It reminded Y/n of the wind-up robot Shirabu had sitting on his desk. At first, it would move slowly shifting its feet. But when she wound it up too tight, a spring or two had the tendency to come flying out of the mechanics.
He downed the water when he realized how thirsty he actually was. He tried to avoid staring at Y/n, she was sitting cross legged and bouncing her knees slightly. Even when he was being a jerk, she was there for him. He was grateful that she had come to see the game earlier, but he cringed when he realized that she had seen him lose. Y/n took the water bottle from him, and drank the rest of the water letting out a satisfied âahâ from the crisp taste. She moved from his bed to go through her backpack, pulling out two plastic packages.
They could share things like water bottles, chapstick, spoons, and straws without discomfort. Shirabu had faced slack-jawed teammates when they saw her drink from his water bottle the first time, their jaws dropped further when he asked her to borrow chapstick and he slathered it on his lips with a smirk at his fellow club members.
âEven though I'm just visiting, I would never think of ruining my nighttime routine. So, you're doing a face mask with me.â As soon as she had disappeared into the bathroom, Shirabu smiled. Falling in love with his childhood best friend was the only thing he could have ever expected. Why look at any other girl when Y/n was right there next to him? Being independent from each other but also relying on the silent motivation that came from the other.
While Shirabu had worked harder than anybody to get into Shiratorizawa, the one downfall was the absence of Y/n in his life. How she teased him for his hair, how she did so many little things in order to lighten the atmosphere he sometimes darkened, how she would never get angry back at him and would only ever approach him with a rational retaliation to his illogical outbursts.
âOkay, here let me put your hair up,â As soon as Y/n had started pulling his hair into a ponytail at the top of his head, Shirabu thought he would combust into a million pieces. âAw, youâre blushing Kenjiro!â When she had finished tying his hair, she put her hands on his cheeks and smushed his face.
âStop it Y/n.â he tried to remove her hands, but she only resorted to locking them around his neck.
âHa! Youâre trapped.â She smiled widely, admiring how his copper toned hair looked like a fountain at the top of his head.
âPsh, I can do that too.â Shirabu wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest.
When they realized what kind of position they were in, they both moved their heads to the side, avoiding looking at each other from embarrassment. They kept holding onto each other. Shrirabu is tired of doing this. They tip-toe around each other, flirting and being the only people to actually handle the other.
His grip tightens on her waist, moving her legs on either side of his hips. He wanted to mold his entire body to hers, leave an imprint of his existence on her. He could only get so physically close, and he was never satiated.
âTell me that you love me.â He whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. His breath dancing across her neck.
âI canât.â Y/n moves her head so that the pair are looking directly into each otherâs eyes. She sniffles slightly. Suddenly the mood that was once perfect for a confession turns sour, and Shirabu wants to insult anything and everything.
âWhy not?â He snaps. He knows that she likes him. She knows that he likes her. So why isnât Y/n saying anything like he hoped she would be?
âYou're too emotional right now, and I donât want to be some sort of rebound for you after volleyball.â
Y/n knew that Shirabu had been in a certain state of mind since the loss to Karasuno. While it would be nice, no, while it might be absolutely amazing for them to start a deeper relationship, the balance of Shirabu was on the line. She didnât want him to be acting out of anger or the need for comfort. She wants him to act out of love for her. No other emotions blocking the path from âaâ to âbâ. She lets go of his neck. But Shirabu only pulls her tighter into him.
âYou won't be. I promise. I love you.â He presses his face into her neck, his lips ghosting over her collarbone.
âI love you.â She isnât sure how the words come out of her mouth, but they do. Almost as if they had been sitting on her teeth just waiting to jump out.
In a rush, he kisses her. Y/n immediately moves to keep him kissing her by holding onto his neck again.
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#shirabu#shirabu kenjirou#shirabu x reader#shirabu kenjirou x reader#shiratorizawa#angst#she gives into him tho#fluff#first kiss#i love you#lilly's red string of fate
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Rusty | Chapter 21 | S.R
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
A/N - this picks up moments before the end of the last chapter. This one is a trip, please tread lightly, it got away from me.
Summary - Luke races to save Spencer from drowning. Whilst you await Spencerâs fate, you and Luke grow tenuously closer.
Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader
Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI
Warnings - CPR, paramedics, hospitals, suicide attempt, swearing, brief panic attack, slight cheating, making out, some kind of messy coma fever dream, heavy mentions of past rape, sexual assault in the form of a dream, handjob, hint at oral (m receiving).
WC - 6.5k
Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament
The moment Luke slowed the Escalade to a stop on the gravel driveway, you were flinging yourself out of the vehicle. Luke barely shut off the engine before he did the same.Â
He followed in your footsteps, running behind you up the hill towards a large Victorian style home. There were various lights coming from multiple windows in the house.Â
The front door was gratefully unlocked as you didnât have your keys on you. Luke followed you inside where you stopped in the entrance way, honing your ears on any little sound that might indicate Spencerâs location.Â
âHe could be at the stable, he often drinks down there.â You whispered.
Luke tried to not to think of the implications of Spencer drinking again after all these years of sobriety. Heâd failed to find out much more information about his exâs condition on the drive.Â
Youâd told him he was off his meds and dissociating into personalities you believed to be people from his past. If he was drinking too it really wasnât much of a surprise this had happened.Â
He heard footsteps on the floor above but not loud enough to come from a human. A moment later a red and grey floppy eared dog who he assumed to still be quite young, appeared at the top of the narrow staircase.Â
His icy blue eyes landed on you before bouncing down the stairs towards you. He threw himself at you, nuzzling against you and whining slightly.
âItâs okay, Copper, what is it?â You pet his head. âWhereâs Spencer?âÂ
The dog - Copper - moved away from you and back towards the stairs. You and Luke exchanged a look, wondering if you were supposed to follow.Â
Before you could take a step, Luke put his arm in front of you, drawing his firearm with his other hand.Â
âLet me go first.â He croaked, stepping forward. âWe have no idea what weâre walking into.âÂ
You swallowed at the inference of his words and the fact he thought he might need his weapon. You nodded stiffly and let Luke take a few more steps as Copper started up the stairs.Â
Luke followed and you tentatively crept behind them. Your heart was beating so rampantly against your chest, terrified over what you might find upstairs. Knowing Spencer it could literally be anything, you were scared to see the extent of his full psychosis.Â
He could have really hurt himself, heâd been alone for the best part of twenty four hours and you had no idea what he could have done in that time. But you were about to find out.Â
Luke continued following Copper into the master bedroom. It was pretty much how you left it aside for the near empty whiskey bottle on the bedside table and Spencerâs clothes strewn about the floor.
The folding wooden doors to the ensuite were closed but Copper came to stand in front of them, staring impatiently at them and whimpering. Luke looked back at you over his shoulder, his hand gripped around the gun noticeably shaking.Â
âI think you should wait out here.â He told you sternly but you stubbornly shook your head.
âNo way, Iâm coming in with you. I can handle it.â You spat.
Lukeâs jaw tightened and he swallowed thickly but this wasnât the time to stand around arguing. He sucked in a trembling breath before turning back to the door.Â
âSpencer?â He braced his free hand against the wood. âSpencer, can you hear me? Are you in there?â
There was no response.Â
âSpencer, Iâm going to open this door if you donât respond.â He tried again, but still there was no response.
Luke drew a really large breath into his lungs through his nose before he shoved the folding doors, watching them concertina in the middle and pushed through the opening created on the right hand side.Â
You were hot on his heels as he breached the room, his hand faltering around the weapon and it suddenly fell to the ground in a loud crash. You gasped loudly at the sight of Spencer in the tub, completely submerged in the water. You froze completely, unable to breathe let alone move.
Thankfully Luke was able to remain level headed and sprung to action after the initial shock. He ran further into the room, quickly reaching both hands into the scalding tub water and hooking them under Spencerâs armpits, dragging the led weight of his unconscious body up and out of the water.Â
Spencerâs head lolled to his chest, eyes closed and if Luke wasnât mistaken, unbreathing. He fought to pull the man fully out of the tub, water splashing everywhere while you and Copper stood stock still and watched in horror.Â
Luke manoeuvred him to the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his exâs naked body before him. He laid him gently on his back on the linoleum, kneeling over him and placing his cheek near Spencerâs face. As suspected, he wasnât breathing.Â
Moving his hand rapidly to Spencerâs neck and pressing two fingers against his pulse point he felt a very faint, very thready pulse.
âHeâs not breathing but heâs alive.â Luke straddled Spencerâs hips, glancing up at you. âCall 911 now!âÂ
You blinked at him but remained unmoved while Luke began CPR in the absence of respiratory activity. He placed the heel of palm on the centre of Spencerâs chest, ignoring how prominent his bones were and how much weight heâd lost, then pressed his other palm to the back of his first hand and started compressions.
He counted off the compressions needing a steady rate of thrusts to kick start Spencerâs heart. After the first thirty he moved his hands from his chest to tilt his head back gently and pinched his nose. He lowered his head, disregarding the utter craziness of this situation, as he sealed his lips over Spencerâs to administer mouth to mouth.
He gave two rescue breaths before sitting back and continuing with the chest compressions. As he did so, he looked at you, seeing you still hadnât moved. The colour had drained your face and your whole body was quaking.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Â
âY/N, this is not the time to freeze.â Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. âCall 911 now! He will die if you just stand there.â Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. âI mean it, Y/N, call the damn paramedics!â
Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
Finally you snapped out of your terror and reached into your pocket for your phone. Luke continued to count in his head while he listened to you on the phone. When he reached thirty he resorted back to mouth to mouth, then returned to chest compressions.
âCome on, man, come on.â He muttered, sweat gathering at his brow. âCome on Spence, please. Take a breath, just take a damn breath!âÂ
Tilting his head back again and breathing twice into Spencerâs mouth just as you hung up the phone, Spencer suddenly spluttered, his whole body jerking beneath Luke. Â
You both froze as Spencerâs eyes fluttered, opening momentarily and staring right at Luke before he parted his lips and water spurted from his mouth.Â
Luke quickly moved off of him, helping him into the recovery position while Spencer continued to spit up water and a little bile. Luke rubbed his back while you continued to stare at the coughing, shaking man.Â
âSpence, it's okay. Get it out.â Luke cooed.
But no sooner had expelled himself, his eyes closed again and his whole body stilled. But he did continue to breathe, albeit extremely shallowly. Luke motioned for you to toss him a towel which you did and Luke used it to cover Spencerâs lower half. Water dribbled from his open mouth onto the floor, his breathing ragged and infrequent.Â
Luke stayed crouched by his side, stroking his back for another few minutes, paying close attention to his breathing before suddenly it stopped again. Luke cursed in his mother tongue, pushing Spencer onto his back again and resuming his earlier attempts at CPR.Â
You didnât know how long you stood there watching in fear as Luke gave him chest compressions and mouth to mouth, before the sound of footsteps on the staircase alerted you to the arrival of EMTâs.Â
They practically pushed you and Copper aside, one of them dropping to the floor next to Luke, a canister of oxygen wheeled behind him. He placed a hand on Lukeâs shoulder as he robotically continued pumping Spencerâs chest with his hands, seemingly not noticing the arrival.Â
âSir,â the second EMT took hold of Lukeâs shoulder. âSir, it's okay, you can stop now.âÂ
The EMT had to physically drag Luke off of Spencer, while the other used a stethoscope to listen to his breathing. After a few moments he pulled away and looked up at the second paramedic.Â
âVery little respiratory activity. Heâll need intubation.â For now he placed a mask over Spencerâs lips which were starting to turn blue. âCan you clear the room please? Weâll be taking him to Canyon Vista Medical, but for now we need space, we need to replenish his O2 and stabilise him.âÂ
A trembling Luke found your side and without thinking, wrapped his arms around you. You let him lead you from the room and towards the bed where the two of you sat down, Copper joining you soon after.Â
Tears silently rolled down your cheeks as the EMTâs worked on getting him on a stretcher, keeping his oxygen mask in place. Once they started leading his unconscious form out of the room, Luke sprung back up to his feet.Â
The two of you followed close behind while he was rapidly manoeuvred into the back of the ambulance, the speed in which everything was happening only furthered to prove his dire state. The EMTâs didnât say another word to either of you and were soon peeling away, red and blueâs flashing and siren blaring.Â
Without your knowledge you were back in Lukeâs Escalade while he slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped after the ambulance as fast he could, the utter terror running through his veins.Â
But he had to stay focused for now, at least until he made it to the hospital. There would be time to dwell on all of this later. For now he had to believe Spencer Reid could survive this.Â
***
Spencer was taken straight to the ICU where he was hooked up to a ventilator via an endotracheal tube in his mouth. You and Luke had been informed that heâd gone into cardiac arrest in the ambulance but they had managed to revive him.Â
He was taken for chest x-rays to assess the level of acute respiratory distress. He was being closely monitored for potential multiple organ failure, pneumonia and central nervous system infections.Â
He was still unconscious and as such it was impossible to know the extent of brain injury due to lack of oxygen. They couldnât fairly assess if he was suffering from hypoxic or anoxic brain injury until he was awake and could be given a series of tests to determine if heâd permanently damaged his brain.Â
He was receptive to early testing, the doctor had shone a torch in his eyes and noted his pupils restricted to the intrusion. Ice cold water was applied to his ears which caused his eyes to move rapidly beneath his lids. The doctor was hopeful that these were good signs of brain activity but he certainly wasnât out of the woods.
The fluid had been drained from his lungs but it didnât mean he couldnât still contract pneumonia. Prolonged use of the ventilator also came with its own risks of lung injury. The fact that he drowned in hot water removed the risk of hypothermia but it did mean his bodyâs need for oxygen was increased and that the oxygen deprivation could have been rapidly lethal and lead to permanent brain damage.Â
He was being tested around the clock, closely monitored as he was at risk of innumerable issues and complications. His blood had been drawn on intake and the doctor informed you and Luke that his blood alcohol level had been four times the legal limit and they assumed it had led to him falling unconscious in the tub and submerging himself.Â
You and Luke didnât say as much but you both knew this hadnât been some dumb accident. This was without a doubt in both of your minds, an attempt to end his life.Â
The two of you exchanged barely two words for hours while you sat in the waiting room. Luke brought you a tepid, bitter coffee from the vending machine while you nursed it on autopilot while he excused himself to make some phone calls.
Firstly he called Grant and filled him in on everything, managing to stem his tears and remain stoic while he explained to his boyfriend how he found his ex close to death and was now waiting to see if heâd regain consciousness.Â
It was when he called Emily that Luke finally succumbed to the terror and the heartache heâd bottled up since finding Spencer in the tub and thinking he was dead.Â
Heâd sobbed down the phone while he recited all the gory details to his boss, barely able to hold himself upright and having to use a nearby wall to brace himself against.Â
Emily didnât get every word he said due to the rampant crying and the fact that Luke seemed to flick back and forth between English and Spanish while he spoke.
âJesus Em it was bad, it was so bad. I thought he estaba muerto. I thought I would never verĂa sus ojos otra vez. He wasnât breathing, he barely had a pulse. Que pasa si lo pierdo? He was just like that, so sin vida. Ay dios mio, I would haveâŠhe could have fallecido. I thought heâŠoh god Em, I thought he was gone. I thought he was gonna die en frente de mĂ! I donât know how I even held it together when all I wanted to do was quebrarme. And he still might no regresar. I still may never see his eyes again, hear su voz. Ay dios mio, AY DIOS MIO. PodrĂa haber muerto, que hubiera hecho? Fuck, fuck Em, Iâm atacadoâŠhaving a ataque de pĂĄnico.â
âOkay, okay Alvez I need you to breathe. Just stop and take a breath in, count to five and release it again. Can you do that for me?â Her voice carried down the phone.Â
âSi. Yes.â Luke closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall and doing as Emily said.Â
At her guidance he repeated this over and over until she deemed Luke to be calm enough, his breathing slowly returning to something close to normal.
âOkay, are you good?â
âYes.â Luke swallowed, turning and leaning back against the wall.
âStart again from the beginning. But Iâm going to need you to stick to one language. English or Spanish is fine but Iâm not as adept at switching between the two as you are, so please, pick one.âÂ
Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, he honestly hadnât even realised heâd been speaking Spanish. He took a deep breath and wiped his tears before telling Emily everything in English only.Â
By the time he returned to you in the waiting room heâd cried all of his tears and washed his face to try and hide that fact.Â
Your face was obscured by your hood the way it had been since you arrived at the hospital, not able to take any chances on someone recognising you. Luke slid into the chair at your side.Â
âDo I need to go? I assume your team is coming?â You sighed.Â
âTheyâre on a case, they got called out right after I headed down to New Mexico, so no they arenât. Also I donât really think Spencer would want them to witness him in this state, whether he was conscious of them being here or not.â Luke ran his hand over his rough facial hair.Â
âI should never have left him. This is my fault.â You cried.Â
Luke placed his strong hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at him through watery eyes hidden away behind your oversized hood.Â
âNone of this is your fault.â He shook his head. âNo one could have prevented this, Y/N. Unfortunately Spencer is severely mentally ill. A combination of coming off his meds and heavy drinking only exacerbated the situation. This was sadly an inevitable outcome.âÂ
âWhat happens if he doesnât wake up Luke? What happens if Spencer dies?â Your eyes were begging him for answers he just didnât have and you knew it too.Â
âHonestly?â He squeezed your shoulder. âI have no idea. I really wish I had some words to make this better, but I donât. We just have to wait and see and go from there.âÂ
You nodded knowing he was right but hating it all the same.Â
***
The momentary bliss of those first few seconds of consciousness swaddled you like a warm blanket and allowed you a reprieve from the previous day's events. The strong, firm body you found yourself cradled against breathed almost in symmetry with you.Â
Broad arms encircled you, your head nuzzled against a hard chest and being lulled by the rhythmic beating of a heart. Legs were entwined together keeping you close. And for those joyous few seconds you forgot all about Spencer in the hospital and it didnât even cross your mind that the body you were wrapped up in wasnât his.
So when you shifted your head upwards and captured the sleepy lips of your bed companion in a kiss, it didnât occur to you that it was incredibly wrong. Apparently it didnât occur to him either as he returned the kiss with vigour, tongue working its way into your mouth whilst pulling you on top of him.Â
He was already hard beneath you as you rolled your hips against his whilst hungrily exploring each other's mouth with fervour. It didnât register to you that his lips were unfamiliar, that the body you were grinding against was much more muscular than you were used to.Â
But then your brain started to kick into gear, pulling itself from its sleep-addled state and you remembered Spencer in the tub, Luke giving him CPR, the EMTâs, the hospital.
Oh my fucking god!
You suddenly broke the kiss, sitting back and staring down at a sleepy Luke Alvez under you. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at you as his own brain ebbed into consciousness.Â
âY/N?â He yelped slightly as you rolled off of him quickly. âWhat the fuck?â
âIâŠI, uh, I think I thought you were Spencer.â Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
âMierda,â he spat, pulling the sheet over his body mostly to cover the fact he was fully erect as if you hadnât felt it. âI didnât realise what I was doing. Jeez, I haven't kissed a woman in a really long time.âÂ
âWe should, uh, pretend that never happened and get back to the hospital.â You were rolling out of bed, self conscious at the fact you only wore an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties.Â
Glancing back at Luke he only seemed to be wearing boxers and the clothes on the floor only further proved that. You didnât remember leaving the hospital and getting back to the ranch. You didnât know why you and Luke were in bed together, wearing next to nothing.
âYou were exhausted.â Luke spoke, seemingly reading your mind. âI helped you up to bed and you asked me to stay with you. Honestly I didnât mind the company. I, uh, did have more clothes on when I fell asleep but I do run hot so I guess I took them off in the night.âÂ
âWe didnâtâŠ?â You turned back to him, eyebrow cocked.Â
âNo!â Luke frowned with a huff. âNo offence but youâre not exactly my type.â
âRight, my lack of a penis.â You nodded with a slight quip of your lip.Â
âExactly.â Luke couldnât help but laugh. âIâm not as equal opportunist as Spencer, if you know what I mean.âÂ
âYouâre gay, I get it. Iâm not offended.â You shook your head in amusement. âIâm gonna shower and hope to wash this fucking bizarre morning off of me.âÂ
âGood idea.â Luke nodded stiffly.Â
Without another word you padded past him towards the bathroom and closed the folding doors behind you. You froze once inside, staring at the still full tub. You could still see him there, submerged under the water, not breathing. You could see his lifeless form as Luke laid him down on the floor and tried to breathe life back into him.Â
The lips that had to administer mouth to mouth to Spencer were the same as the ones youâd fervently attacked. Youâd kissed Luke while Spencer was fighting for his life. Tears crept to your eyes and you were momentarily paralysed by the weight of it all. But you couldnât crumble, Spencer needed you.Â
You bypassed the claw foot tub, unable to bring yourself to drain the water and simply stepped inside the shower and closed your eyes in the hopes of dispelling the images that ran amok in your mind.
***
The doctors started to try and wean Spencer off of the ventilator to try and assess if he was able to breath on his own. Heâd had no further fluid build up in his lungs and they were hopeful that he would be able to breath without the use of the tube and the machine.
He was having tests done multiple times a day to measure his oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, his blood pressure, heart rate and temperature were all regularly checked. He had numerous blood tests to monitor his kidney function as well as other body functions.Â
Luke had spent several hours in Spencerâs room, talking to the unconscious man but you couldnât bring yourself to see him like this.Â
By the end of the day the doctor had successfully removed him from the ventilator and Spencer was breathing unaided. They had started by explaining all the steps to you and Luke although most of it was lost on you.Â
The pressure of the ventilator was gradually reduced whilst nurses moved Spencer into a half sitting position. His airway was suctioned before the ventilator was disconnected and replaced by a simple oxygen mask to aid his breathing but not control it.Â
The doctor monitored his breathing for any anxiety or laboured breaths. As soon as he was happy that Spencer was able to breath without the machine, extubation was carried out, the endotracheal tube removed from his throat and the mask placed over his mouth and nose.Â
He would need continuous monitoring to ensure he carried on breathing on his own but the doctor said it wasnât unheard of for patients to return to a ventilator if needed. They also started to wean him off the medication keeping him sedated but you and Luke were both warned that it could still take some time for him to awaken.
You were both made aware that when he did wake up he would likely be restless and confused and if he was to get agitated he may need resedating but they hoped it wouldnât come to that. None one mentioned the fact it was still a possibility he might not wake up at all.Â
You stayed all day before returning to the ranch in the late evening. Luke ordered take out as all the two of you had eaten was snacks from the hospital vending machine. You both only picked at the Thai food, neither feeling particularly hungry.
After dinner Luke called Grant and then Emily to fill them in on Spencerâs progress before the two of you called it a night, sleeping in separate rooms this time to avoid another potentially awkward morning.
***
Spencer Reid didnât believe in heaven and hell and perhaps that was why heâd found himself in some kind of limbo.Â
Am I dead? Must be dead. What else could this be?
You really went and done it this time, Reid. You wanted to kill yourself and it looks like you succeeded.Â
Well, this ought to be interesting.Â
Everything seemed just mildly out of focus, hazy around the edges. It was a little like being tipsy, not quite able to get his vision to cooperate yet his mind was sharp unlike when he drank.Â
Out of nowhere an incredibly bright light flashed before his left eye. He squinted before it appeared again in his right but then disappeared entirely.Â
He walked with seemingly no purpose, through one blurry room to the next without knowing where he was going or why. His feet moved of their own volition, like they had their own destination in mind.Â
Is this all there is out there? Am I simply going to wander the abyss for all eternity now? At least Iâm alone, at least they arenât here.Â
A shiver passed up his spine and he looked around quickly, trying to work out where the sudden iciness that encompassed him came from. Moments later he felt it again, confined to his headâŠhis ears?Â
No bother, it soon passed and he continued on his way.Â
Must have worked. The lack of oxygen must have killed enough of my brain cells that theyâre all finally gone. I might be able to have some peace.Â
But as he had this thought, a voice filtered into his ears distant and hard to understand but he certainly recognised it and not as one of the ghosts who had lived inside of his head.Â
âAmor mio. Siento tanto esto que te pasĂł, pero necesito que abras tus ojos ya? Hazlo por mĂ. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojos.â
Luke? Luke, is that you? Luke I donât understand, I canât⊠Never had a problem understanding Spanish before, why canât I understand him?
Luke, say it in English, what are you trying to say? Must have destroyed the part of my brain where my ability to retain language was stored. Amor mioâŠmy love? Urgh, what are you trying to tell me?
Think, Spencer, think. Something about being sorry? Siento tanto esto que te pasĂłâŠIâm sorry for what happened to you? What happened to me? I donât get it.Â
OjosâŠeyes? You want me to open my eyes? My eyes are openâŠI donât understand, Luke? Pero necesito que abras tus ojos yaâŠBut I need you to open your eyes? This doesnât make any senseâŠ
Hazlo por mĂ. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojosâŠDo it do me. Please I beg you, open your eyes? Am I losing my mind or has my Spanish gotten that rusty? I must be mistranslating, that doesnât make any sense.Â
His feet continued their aimless wandering, Lukeâs voice fading out of his ears. He pushed his way through a door at the end of a long corridor and stepped inside to be greeted by a table full of people bathed in a soft glow, while they enjoyed dinner together.
Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Tara Lewis, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi and Matt Simmons sat around the table, laughing and clinking wine glasses together, not noticing their company.Â
A smile blossomed on Spencerâs lips as he took in his old team, minus Luke. He walked towards the six of them, excited to join them in their dinner.Â
Gosh, Iâve missed them, never realised how much until right now. It's so good to see them all again, canât wait toâŠ
As he neared the table the six figures heâd known and missed started to shift and morph before his very eyes. Soon enough he wasnât looking at the six members of the BAU, instead he was looking upon the six demons who lived inside his head.Â
There they were, sharing a meal together while Spencer stood in horror as the monsters of his past broke bread together and sipped wine like they were old friends catching up after a long time apart.
Tobias Hankel sipped from his wine glass. Cat Adams and Diane Turner laughed together side by side. William Reid picked up a bread roll and tore it into pieces before he started eating it. Benjamin Merva cut into a rare steak with an overly sharp knife.
And at the head of the table, clinking his own knife against his glass and capturing the attention of the others, was the source of Spencerâs biggest trauma. The broad, tattooed latino got to his feet, his prison scrubs rolled up to his elbows and all eyes were now on him.Â
He smiled at his rapt audience, the same sick smile he used to give Spencer when he was forcing him to his knees and opening his mouth for the assault. Large hands clapped together, the very ones which had held Spencer in place while he was coerced into taking the other mens cocks in his mouth.Â
âIâm so glad we could all be here today,â he spoke in that menacing tone Spencer knew too well. âTo celebrate the man of the hour, the reason we were all brought together.âÂ
Suddenly all eyes turned to Spencer who was standing dumbly off to the side, on the outside looking in. He swallowed thickly at the six sets of eyes who seemed to be hungrily glaring at him.Â
âWithout you, querido, none of us would be here.âÂ
Please donât call me that, please god donât call me that, Spencer spoke but no words seemed to come out of his mouth. Yet, everyone seemed to hear him.
âWhatâs the matter, querido, I thought you liked it?â The man pouted at him.
I donât, I donât! Not when you say it!Â
âHe prefers it when you call him, cariño.âÂ
Another voice entered the arena, one in which Spencer didnât mind the term of endearment from. He spun around to see Luke on the edge of the room, hands in his pockets and chewing awkwardly on his lip.
Luke, Luke you came! Luke, please make them go away.Â
Again he didnât make a sound yet Luke seemed to hear him loud and clear.
âYou know Iâd do anything for you cariño, but you never let me help you. I tried, I tried so hard. But you didnât want my help.â
I want it now, please? Please! Make them go away.
He felt a strong set of arms around him from behind, he knew exactly who they belonged to. He struggled against them but he was too weak, his back being pinned against a firm chest while tattooed arms encompassed his waist, holding him steady.
âHe looks a little like me, no?â The man breathed in his ear. âIs that why you wouldnât let him touch you after what I did? Did he remind you of me?â
Y-yes, Spencer sniffled. Itâs true Luke, Iâm sorry. You reminded me of him, you reminded me of my rapist.Â
âAy cariño,â Luke huffed, still on the other side of the room and not stepping in to help him fight off his attacker. âEstabas tan vulnerable, que nunca pudiste aprender a cĂłmo cuidarte. No es raro que Ă©l se haya aprovechado de ti.â
What does that mean? I donât understand, I canât seem to remember any Spanish, Luke you have to help me!
The arms tightened around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He desperately tried to catch it but the pressure around him inhibited him from getting a solid breath into his suddenly aching lungs.Â
âHe said you are so fragile, that you never did learn to take care of yourself. He said itâs no wonder I took advantage of you.â
No, no thatâs not true. Luke, tell him, you didnât say that! Tell him!Â
Despite the fact Spencer was still not making any noise aside from trying to catch his breath, Luke shrugged. Spencer looked over at the table where the other five ghosts sat, none of them paying any attention to the three of them. They were focused back on their meals, clearly unperturbed by what was going on.Â
The arms started to loosen their hold and Spencer gasped furiously for a breath to refill his near empty lungs. His breathing was thick and fast, rampant and erratic.
âIt's to be expected when patients first come off the ventilator. He might struggle to breath on his own for a few minutes but the mask will help ensure he has enough oxygen and I can assure you Mister Alvez weâre monitoring him extremely closely.âÂ
Spencer frowned at the new voice entering his ears, looking around but not seeing any other faces. The man behind him had his hands on Spencerâs hips and no matter what he did, Spencer couldnât get his breathing to return to normal.
Luke, what is happening? Why canât I breathe properly? What is he saying about ventilators and oxygen? What have I missed?Â
The hands gripped his hips tightly through his slacks and Spencer tried to ignore them in lieu of breathing. He was huffing and puffing but he couldnât control it.Â
What is happening to me?Â
No one responded.Â
Something was suddenly on his throat or more accurately, being removed from his throat. He felt it scratch and tickle as he clawed its way out of his mouth. He coughed violently out of nowhere, shuddering at the sensation and dribbling down his chin a little.Â
He swallowed thickly, feeling empty in such a new and strange way but he didnât understand what it was. What was that feeling?Â
The sounds of laughter from the dinner table distracted him momentarily while one hand snuck around the front of his body. Spencerâs back stiffened as the thick fingers toyed at the waistband of his slacks.
Please, please donât do this, he begged, still fighting for breath. âPlease, I donât want it. I donât want it!âÂ
The hand was sliding inside his pants and Spencer whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at Luke, begging for help.
âIs he crying?â Lukeâs voice came again but this time his lips didnât move.
âItâs perfectly normal in comatose patients, Mister Alvez.â The other voice spoke again.Â
Comatose? What is going on? Someone tell me whatâsâŠoh shit! A hand wrapped around his shaft. Donât do that, don't touch me!
âDonât fight it cariño, just pretend it's me.â The Luke that was in front of him was speaking now and not the phantom, distant Luke voice.
Please, please I donât want this! I just want toâŠohâŠ
Spencer threw his head back, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure erupted in his chest. He was still struggling to catch his breath but right then he didnât care. The large, calloused hand in his pants felt divine even if he hated to admit it.Â
He locked eyes with Luke while the man continued to stroke him, his knees buckling, but the man behind him held him upright.
âFeels good, huh?â Luke smirked at him
Y-yes, fucking goddamnit yes it does.
âI like him like this; so subservient.â The man whispered against Spencerâs ear, breath hot on his skin.Â
FuckâŠfuckâŠfeels so good. Why does it have to feel so good?Â
âAre youâŠoh my god heâs fucking hard! Heâs enjoying this!âÂ
âHeâs enjoying it! Hah!â
Two other bodies appeared beside Luke now, the other two men responsible for his prison assaults. Spencer squirmed and whined at their words, fighting against the hands once more.
Iâm not enjoying it. Stop it, please. I donât want it.Â
âSpencer, baby, if you werenât enjoying it, why is your cock so hard?â Luke offered him a sad smile.Â
Itâs a-adrenaline. It happens when we-weâre excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily fâŠplease stop!Â
The tears were hot as they scored down his face. He desperately fought against the hands that wouldnât let up, touching him in places he didnât want to be touched. He still couldnât breath, everything was growing hazier.Â
He vaguely registered the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor and moments later the five other ghosts came into view.Â
William and Merva helped to remove Spencerâs shirt while he whined and tried to push them away to no avail. Cat dropped to her knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking him in her mouth while the manâs hand remained around the base of his shaft.Â
Tobias and Diane started pawing at his now bare chest, Diane sucking marks on his neck while he felt a needle at the crook of his arm.
No, please, please you have to stop. STOP! I donât want any of this, Luke, make them stop!Â
Spencer screamed and screamed until his lungs were raw and throbbing, but no one seemed to hear his pleas. He fought against the bodies now swarmed around him, thrashing and writhing but it didnât do any good. No one was listening, no one heard his cries.Â
Stop, stop, stop! You have to stop, I canât do this. Canât do this. Death was supposed to be a reprieve, it wasnât supposed to be like this! You werenât supposed to follow me to the other side. Luke, Luke! Please! Please you have to do something, Luke! Luke, Luke, LukeâŠ
With a start, Spencerâs eyes shot open while he gasped for a breath to fill his battered lungs. Suddenly everything stilled. There were no hands upon him, no voices, no torrent of unwanted emotions.Â
In the whiteness of the room he registered a faint beeping sound but he didnât acknowledge it. Across the vividly lit space, he locked eyes with those dark brown orbs heâd loved for so many years and saw all the sorrow they held as they stared back at him.
He felt something over his face, obscuring his mouth and nose, something in the crook of his arm, something else jammed in a place much lower down his body that it most certainly shouldnât be. A frantic beeping grew louder as he slowly ebbed out of that hazy unconscious. His heart? His heart was beating furiously.Â
But through it all, he only had attention on that one man whom he was sure was not a ghost this time. As a small yet melancholy smile played on his lips, Spencer knew that Luke Alvez was just as much here as he himself was.
Wherever the hell here was.Â
Heaven? Hell? Limbo again? Some kind of other in between where up is down and left is right? Got to be, canât be real. If I was alive there is no way Luke Alvez would be here in front of me andâŠ
Luke started towards him, eyes misted with tears. He moved closer to Spencer and without thinking he grabbed the younger manâs hand in his, needing to feel him, needing to ground himself.Â
He blinked back tears whilst an extremely confused, extremely oxygen deprived Spencer continued to stare blankly at him. Luke lifted his hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across his knuckles.Â
âOh cariño, am I glad to see you.âÂ
@katrina0-0 @kalulakunundrum @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x fem! reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction
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â» REMEDIAL MEASURES FOR THE PLANETS : THE SUN
basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.
a malefic sun will bring problems from the government and money loss due to tax issues. a weak sun will reduce your impact on the world and increase your struggles in life; if other satvik planets (moon, mars, jupiter) are not very strong either, then the influence of tamas guna takes over the person. it makes them lazy, sullen, reduces commitment and increases cowardice. an unfavourable sun further leads to affliction to the eyes, leading to loss of vision in the worst case.
general remedies
waking up early and engaging in surya namskaar, to be practised before sunrise, depending on regional timings. for those invested in yoga, this is especially encouraged. you can search it up anywhere, and you'll get the 12 postures with the 12 mantras to be recited with each of them.
otherwise, greet the view of the sun in the morning with devotion (without having eaten anything, preferably before brushing) and bowing to him.
respecting, and looking after the father. it is strictly unadvisable to hurt him in any manner, except if he happens to be abusive, in which case i advise distance from him. for those who are close to / at good terms with their father, speak to him in your free time and cherish your bond with him.
avoid unnecessary arguments with authority figures.
including jaggery, ginger, cinnamon in the food if sun is benefic but weak. donating red coloured pulses to the needy on sunday if sun is a malefic.
wearing copper bracelet if sun is a weak benefic.
drinking water from a copper bottle / in a copper glass.
fasting on sundays. water, fruits, fruit juices, dry fruits, milk and milk products which do not contain salt are allowed to be consumed.
carrying out responsibilities properly, without complaints.
keeping a picture of seven horses running together with an orange background at the east wall / at the table / in home / work place.
for hindus / people believing in idolatry / people with any form of devotion to the planets as gods:
TO BE DONE DAILY:
one thing i wish to emphasize here is that vedic practices like the two following are to be done in places free from the influence of alcohol / drugs / meat / rahu dominant places. after having consumed any of these, stay away from the places where the god is kept / offered remedies to, to respect their sanctity.
employ your imagination to visualize the sun god in an anthropomorphic form (as a human). this is done to create a deeper emotional relationship with the sun which is not possible with an inanimate object.
the sun is visualized with two arms, his skin the colour of red coral, holding two lotuses in his hands, with golden armlets, bracelets, necklaces and shining gold earrings. he sits atop an open lotus, and has the radiance of a thousand stars. his chariot is driven by seven horses as he moves through the sky.
do this as you stand facing the rising sun, before 7 in the morning with an empty stomach and having taken a bath. you must have a small, round copper vessel (a lota) filled with fresh water. as you imagine the sun god, bow to him softly and raise your hands filled with the vessel and start pouring it in his direction, as though offering it to him and chant the following mantra:
à„ à€čà€°à€Ÿà€ź  à€čà€°à€żà€ź à€čà„à€°à„à€ à€žà€č à€žà„à€°à„à€Żà€Ÿà€Ż à€šà€źà€ 'Om Hraam Hreem Hraum Sah Suryay Namah'  âI salute the Great Sun God for his Divine grace.â
if this is too tough, you may go for a simpler one:
'Om Suryaya Namaha'
no special accents or anything, every letter to be pronounced properly as i have written in the english translation.
keep a bucket below where the water will be collected, or any other vessel and cast it aside. this water is not to be used for watering plants, washing etc. personally, i switch between three buckets. when one is full, i cast it aside and it just vaporizes by at least half within two weeks time by which i have to switch buckets.
this can be done from the balcony, through window etc. if a safe and clean waterbody is available nearby whose water you deem pure enough to be offered to a god, then take water from that body, offer it to the lord and pour it such that it falls back into the said body. bow to the sun, and return to your schedule.
TO BE DONE ON SUNDAYS / AUSPICIOUS OCCASIONS: (depending upon level of commitment, and financial influence)
if you wish to pray to the sun god and engage in mantra chanting, then you may establish a copper statue of the god, no bigger than your finger (or the thumb if you are a busy person and may have to skip this duty at times. large statues when unkempt curse the native for dishonour of the god.)
following is a good reference statue, but it is nearly the size of your hand and will require appropriate keeping.
discipline for taking care of statues of gods. not looking after the statue of gods is extremely inauspicious. if you do not have the discipline or time to dedicate some time in the morning / early evening to worship, then don't keep the statue in your home.
i will make a post about this if anyone needs additional or personal tips regarding idol worship, or how you can adjust it better with western culture. do lmk via asks.
remedies that can be done occasionally / weekly :
offer the sun god the flowers associated with him (lotus, nag champa, hibiscus, palash), red coloured garments (it can be any new textile, even unsewn cloth can be offered), wheat grains (100 g) and copper metal if within means. all of these items are to be distributed amongst brahmins (temple priests) to appease the god.
havan can be done on sundays.
rice cooked with jaggery can be fed to brahmins (temple priests); you can ask the local temple priests about it, or if any isckon centre is present, then the authorities present there will be able to guide you well about how you can do so. if temples are present locally, then you can simply donate the items / food in a tupperware to the temple priest. the raw materials can also both be offered (raw rice grains and jaggery.
a cow with calf be given in charity. (don't go around thinking this has to be done weekly đ do it once, or maybe once every four-five years if you have that devotion and money)
feeding birds on your own with wheat grains is another excellent remedy. offering water to them in shallow vessels to prevent smaller animals from drowning in it is great, too. if sparrows are there, then it is an even better omen. you can simply offer money to institutions who take care of birds, as well.
a general advise which is applicable to everyone, regardless of the sun's strength in the birth chart is to keep a hanging sun ornament at the entrance of the house / office / studio etc. it is highly auspicious and prevents the entry of bad energies into the house. if placed inside the house, it should be hung on the east wall.
à„ à€šà€źà„ à€à€à€”à€€à„ à€”à€Ÿà€žà„à€Šà„à€”à€Ÿà€Ż
#vedic astrology#astro community#astro notes#astro observations#astrology notes#answered#astrology blog#astrology observations#astrology readings#astrology#ashlesha#astroblr
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