#how the story was like the unwinding of a thread

[happilyhertale]

The Quiet by the Fire – Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Summary: The last few weeks have been very stressful for your husband Daemon. Lots of council meetings and little one-on-one time took away the opportunity to relax. But you know how to help him unwind.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Blowjob

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.9 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The corridors of the Red Keep are as still as the air outside, a biting cold that crept through the halls, settling into the bones. The torches lining the stone walls flicker and dance in the icy gusts that seem to seep from every crack. The warmth of the hearths in the chambers provides little comfort as winter claws at the edges of the castle.

You have been walking through the Keep for what feels like hours, searching. The echoes of your footsteps have been your only company, until at last, you find him. Daemon.

As you enter your shared chambers, the first thing you notice was the soft glow of firelight flickering against the walls, casting long shadows. The room is quiet, too quiet—nothing like the usual chaotic bustle of court life or the hurried, harried days Daemon has been enduring recently.

There, seated in a large chair by the fire, is Daemon. His black leathers, the ones he usually wears in moments of war and conflict, are replaced by a simpler tunic, his sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal the lean muscles in his arms. He isn‘t usually one to sit idly by a fire, yet here he is, his back relaxed, eyes focused on the pages of a book. The glow from the fire catches the sharp angles of his face, his silver hair catching the light. The usual sharp edge of his gaze is soft, more serene, as though the world outside this chamber no longer exists.

For a moment, you simply watch him. He seems... tranquil. At peace.

You move closer, the chill of the hall still lingering on your skin.

Daemon’s head turns as you walk further into the room, and his lips curl into that signature smirk of his. The one you have come to know so well, one that speaks volumes without a word.

You can't help but smile back. "I’ve searched every corner of the Keep," you tease, taking a step forward. "You’re not easy to find these days."

“Ah, I have my hiding spots,” he replies, his grin widening as he sets down the book on the table.

"I’m surprised you’re not out there, causing chaos," you say, as you settle into a seat beside him, your knees brushing his.

Daemon chuckles, the sound rich and full, warming the room even more than the fire could. “The chaos has been… persistent enough without my help.” His tone shifts slightly, darker, as his hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers gently threading through your hair. “And besides, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, though you know the answer. Daemon has always been full of surprises.

“Hmm,” Daemon grins again, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Yes. I’ve had enough of the world for the moment. Enough of the courts and the politics. Enough of everything, except for you.” His fingers slide to your cheek, his touch warm against your skin. “You know, there are few things in this world that can still my restless nature. But you, my love… You have a way of doing it.”

His words are gentle, but laced with that familiar heat, the one that could turn a tender moment into something much more.

You lean into his touch, the quiet that surrounded you both seeming like a strange luxury.

The fire crackles softly, and you let the warmth seep into your bones as you watche him—his face lit by the flickering flames, his silver hair shining even brighter in the dim light.

"You’ve been stressed," you observe, your voice soft. It isn‘t a question; it is a truth you both knew. “You don’t look it now, but I can see it in your eyes when you think I’m not watching.”

“Thats true,” he agrees. “But you know, sometimes… I long for something simpler.” His thumb gently traces the line of your jaw, and for a brief, quiet moment, the weight of his words settles in the space between you. “Something… like this.”

The calm of the room settles over you both, and you can feel the tension of his usual restlessness slowly melts away in your presence.

“So,” Daemon begins again, his voice returning to that cheeky tone you know so well, “now that you’ve found me, what will you do?”

You smile, feeling the weight of the day lift. “Maybe I’ll stay here,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “And keep you company”

Daemon's grin widenes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you closer, the warmth of his embrace stronger than the fire that burned beside you.

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

For a moment, Daemon remains silent, his head resting against the back of the sofa, eyes closed, though you could sense his awareness of you in every breath he takes. His other hand, the one not holding you, idly traces the fabric of your gown, the tips of his fingers brushing over your shoulder and down your arm, as if exploring you in a way that is both familiar and new.

The room is warm now, not just from the fire, but from the shared closeness that has begin to envelope you both.

Daemon pulls you closer into his chest, an action so characteristically possessive that it makes you smile.

You can feel his breath against your ear, warm and steady, and you shiver slightly, from the intimacy of the moment. His touch is different now—gentler, more insistent in a way that makes your pulse quicken, even as his demeanor remains calm, almost contemplative. The stress, the frustrations that have hardened him in recent weeks seem to melt away in the simple act of holding you close.

His hand, which has been tracing idle patterns on your arm, slowly moves to your side, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist. The touch, light at first, soon becomes more deliberate, as if coaxing something from you—something that you know he needs but would never outright ask for.

"You’ve been a comfort to me," Daemon murmurs, "But you know, sometimes... I need more than just your presence."

You lift your gaze, meeting his eyes, and see the flicker of something familiar: that mischievous gleam, the same one he wears when he is being naughty. It is no surprise that Daemon’s playful nature can’t stay dormant for long.

You lean back slightly, enough to see his face fully. “What are you saying, Daemon?”

He shifts, pulling you closer again, so that his face is hovering near yours, his lips barely an inch from your ear. His breath is warm, his presence overwhelming. "I’m saying," he purrs, "that I need you to take my mind off things. The stress. The politics. Everything." His fingers, now trailing down to the small of your back, hold you tighter, as if marking you as his. "You have a way of doing that, don’t you?"

"You want me to take it away?" you ask, your voice teasing, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

Daemon’s grin is unmistakable, "That’s what I said."

You feel his body shift as he sits up slightly, his hands roaming with purpose, but his touch still tender enough to draw out that soft side of him that so few got to see. His lips graze your cheek, brushing lightly against your skin, and then hover just below your ear, his breath warm against your neck.

His words laced with both frustration and desire. "I have too much to think about. But when I’m with you…" He pauses, his voice darkening. "It’s different. I don’t need to think. I just need to feel."

The warmth of his body, the way his fingers lingers over your skin, is intoxicating. It isn’t just about the touch anymore—it is the quiet urgency in his actions, the way he can’t seem to help himself as he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours with that same undeniable hunger that is both possessive and desperate. You smile at him before sliding off the sofa. He watches you, seeming confused for a second. But then he feels you unbuttoning his trousers. A smile plays around his lips, “It seems to me you already have an idea how you could help me relax.”

You just smile and Daemon lifts his hips so you can pull his pants down. You bite your lip lightly as you release his semi-hard length from his pants.

His hand slides into your hair, gently gripping it while your hand glides along his length. You lean forward and your lips glide along his length. Daemon sighs lightly, leaning back slightly as you work your way up to his tip. You feel him get harder, his cock twitching slightly.

Your lips wrap around his tip and he growls as you suck lightly. “Oh Love... I think this helps me relax,” he murmurs and his hand slides further into your hair, gripping lightly. Inch by inch you take his length deeper into your mouth. A salty taste spreads across your tongue and Daemon growls. You swirl your tongue around the flesh, dipping into the slit every now and then to get him to moan.

You take his cock out of your mouth, your hand slides up and down while your tongue continues to play with his head. Daemon growls again and his hips push up slightly, you know that he is getting impatient. But you want to tease him. You continue to gently suck on his tip, denying him full pleasure.

“Don't tease me,” he murmurs, and you try to suppress a smile. But you take his length back into your mouth, take him deeper. Slowly you drag your lips down his shaft until you are tearing up and close to choking before pulling up and repeating this motion.

Daemon grunts with relief, but his hand tightens. But then you choke slightly as he suddenly thrusts up. You want to protest, but he thrusts again. His hand holds your head while he fucks you in the mouth. You try to breathe calmly, but you moan. Your throat clenches around the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, yes!” Daemon growls as you choke again. Your hands slide onto his thighs, supporting you as he fucks your mouth. Daemon grunts and you feel more and more precum filling your mouth. Tears well up in your eyes and you feel his cock twitch. You suck and try to take control again, but Daemon has you firmly in his grasp.

Your one hand lightly grabs his balls, massaging them while you suck. Daemon growls and thrusts violently into your throat. You gag and at that moment Daemon comes, spilling his cum deep into your throat.

He growls and grunts, thrusting his hips forward until the last drop of his seed has left his length. You try to swallow everything, but you can't prevent some of the cum from leaking out of your mouth. You are breathing heavily, but like a good wife, you lick along his cock until you have captured all the remains of his juice. Slowly you release his still slightly twitching length from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth and look at him. He's breathing heavily, his eyes are closed. His hand is still in your hair, but slowly your grip loosens, sliding down to your cheek. His eyes are still closed until you turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand. His eyes open slightly and he smiles.

Slowly he pulls you back up onto the sofa and you follow his movement. As soon as you are sitting on the sofa, he pulls you close to him, buries his face in your hair while he still tries to catch his breath.

[withleeknow]

thirteen percent.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao word count: 1.2k note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.

at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.

at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.

"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."

you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"

"this is my normal volume?"

"your normal volume is loud."

"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"

you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.

you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"

it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.

and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.

"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."

"you took me home?"

"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"

despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"

minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."

to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.

you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.

you: oh naue why rom sponnign you: i wsntto go homrr you: mimo tskeeee me homeee

"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."

"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."

"doing what?"

your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.

"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.

but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."

it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.

-

it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.

you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.

"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.

"whyyy not?"

"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."

but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.

you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."

minho could only sigh.

-

"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"

you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.

it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.

"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."

he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.

"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."

"and not to mention you kept-"

"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."

he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."

"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"

"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.

"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."

"i want a cat tower."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 14.01.2024]

[sunshinescribes]

Heyy sunny, i just read the story about Law with his head bury on s/o chest and i was like: damn, that's hot. And i kinda think Law need more pampering like pat in his head, caressing his knuckles or something. So, since your request is open, can we get Trafalgar Law get pampered by his s/o?

If you didn't wanna write it, you can skip this one :0

TENDER

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Law is whipped but also bad at feelings

Sometimes Law thinks he dreamed you.

When you thread your fingers through his hair after a long day, massaging his scalp while whispering sweet praise, or absentmindedly caress his knuckles, leaving phantom kisses against his inked skin—he doesn’t think you’re real.

You come to him when he needs you most, as if you know he desires a comforting hand, a friendly word, and he melts into you every single time. His defenses shatter—the wall he’s constructed all this life comes tumbling down, and you hold him through the carnage.

You’re everything his heart secretly craves—so tender-hearted and caring, and wonderful—everything he feels he’s not.

And God, does he wonder what you see in him. Wonders how he manages to attract the kindest people when all he has to offer is practiced indifference. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, doesn’t voice the things he feels, but it doesn’t deter you, and despite how brilliant he is, Law can’t make sense of it. He could spend a lifetime trying to figure you out and would never even come close.

“What is going on in that pretty head of yours?” You inquire, your brow raised playfully as you stare down at him. “Can hear the gears in your head movin’.”

His head is in your lap, your soft fingers brush back mutinous strands of hair from his forehead, and he blinks up at you dumbly. It’s one of those rare peaceful evenings where the crew unwinds and breathes a sigh of relief as the Polar Tang slips through the sea, pushing you all towards your next destination with ease.

It takes a moment for your compliment to register—that pretty head of yours—and Law hates how his heart flutters. You say the most…outlandish things without considering their effect—flattery he never expected to like, but they always sound so lovely coming from you. The urge to look at anything but your pretty face almost overtakes him, but he fights his urges, keeps his dark eyes trained on you.

Instead, he arches a sharp brow at you and attempts to sound mildly offended, even though he’s certain you see right through him. “Pretty?”

You purse your lips, feigning thought.

“Would you prefer beautiful? Gorgeous?”

He rolls his eyes, but your soft teasing does little to calm the rapid beat of his unruly heart. When has anyone ever thought him pretty? Beautiful?

You say it as if it’s one of life’s simple truths, but he feels you’re much more deserving of such compliments, and he would shower you with them if he knew how to stop himself from biting his tongue.

Your free hand moves from its spot on his exposed chest, trailing upward until you’re softly cradling his jaw. You dip down, placing a tender kiss on his supple lips.

“Brains and beauty,” you murmur against his lips. “How lucky am I?”

I’m the lucky one, he thinks. To be cared for like this—to be treated like something worthy of being cherished and loved.

And maybe it’s the fear that makes the words catch in his throat, stops him from ripping out his bleeding heart and handing it to you.

He’s never had a good thing that lasted. Only fleeting moments of happiness, ripped right from under him just when he thinks tragedy can never reach him again. He’s lost so much already, and yet there’s always more to lose.

But you continue to smile at him, kiss years of self-loathing away, share your warmth and affection for as long as he accepts it, and Law allows himself to become a little hopeful—thinks maybe you’ll be the first good thing he gets to keep.  

A/N: I feel like this kinda got away from me, but not in the "I wrote too much" way and more so the "I feel I deviated too far from the original prompt and am almost certain I was possessed while writing this" way. Despite that, I hope you enjoyed! I love love LOVE writing soft love for Law so this is a PSA to flood my requests with fluffy prompts!!!

Divider credit: @/cafekitsune

[azullumi]

“i think i like this little life” ; genshin men

summary — small things and simple moments with him that makes life worth living.

includes — various characters (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, kind of domestic, not proof-read, kind of word vomit ; scenarios

words — 1336

notes — i was originally going to add like a watching him get ready scenario thingy but then i changed my mind,, anws i feel like i wrote everyone too soft here haha

;; spending the morning together

honey-dyed light slips through the thin drapery over the window as the distant shrunken circle of golden rises to the sky portraying the morning that comes. the birds sing a gentle tune outside, serving as some sort of alarm that wakes him up, eyes fluttering open to the sight of the familiar ceiling, the feeling of warmth beside him.

although the dawn’s early night was never a pleasant welcome to him as it only indicates the things that he has to do and have to do for the remainder of the day, anticipation comes at the mere thought that he’ll get to start and spend it with you—everything becomes a little bit better like a weight on his shoulder has been lifted.

in the stillness and silence of the morning, there you are besides him; his gaze lingers at your sleeping form—tranquility seen on the edges and corners of your being—, eyes deep and swirling with feelings of affection; he doesn’t even know how soft his expression becomes whenever he looks at you until someone would inform him of it. strands of your hair were tangled and messy, some of it obstructing your face as it fell over your forehead, and the feeble light shines itself on your skin, basking you in a warm golden glow. everything feels like scenery, something out of a claude monet painting. how did he ever become so lucky to have someone as lovely and wonderful as you in his life?

the moment doesn’t last forever, however. as if a fleeting one, a groan was heard from you and you stir yourself awake.

“good morning, lovely. did you sleep well?” his voice, tender and filled with affection, pierces through the gentle silence of the room. he presses a small kiss on your forehead as he greets you, brushing the strands of your hair back as he did. you slowly blink your eyes open, the sight of him greeting you and immediately, a small smile graces your lips. “good morning.” you reply and having just woken up, your words came out as a whisper only for him to hear.

“do you want to get out of bed?” you only shook your head as an answer, snuggling closer to him. face buried on the curve of his neck, you inhale his scent—faintly cloying yet pleasant. he laughs shortly, “we can stay in for a little bit more then.”

for him, the thought of waking up with you to the soft glow of morning outweighs every trace of his not-so-morning-person personality; he’s not a morning person but if he gets to spend every morning under this light with you, he wouldn’t mind it.

ayato, diluc, dainsleif, heizhou, kaeya, baizhu, kaveh

;; watching everything outside the window

it was just a small thing that you would do together, mostly when one of you is bored. sitting by the window, looking out of it, watching every person that passes by, and creating some sort of story behind them—a not-so-true reason behind the passing strangers’ actions. it’s really just a simple way to pass time and to entertain yourself and you love it, especially when you’re doing it with him.

“do you see that man over there?” you start, referring to the man on the street who seems like in a rush, and his gaze follows the mentioned person. “he’s walking—no, wait, he’s running because he’s on the way to meet someone.”

instead of a mere indulgence in gossip or prying into the affairs of others, it transforms into a serene narrative, delicately unwinding the threads of each moment that passes—people watching, the art of noticing. everything felt like a movie with each of the scenes unfolding before you.

he takes a sip from the cup that he was holding, eyes showing a hint of interest. “perhaps he’s on the way to meet the love of his life.” he chimes, his gaze then darting over at the sight of a woman with their dog. “how about them?”

you hum, “maybe on the way to the vet?”

“sounds like a plausible reason.”

the moment stills, the both of you quietly observing and noticing everything outside—like how the plant displayed outside the window of the shop was a different one compared to yesterday or how the cat across the street always sits and waits on that one spot until an old lady comes to feed them. in essence, yesterday was different to today; in a way that yesterday, there were less people than today or that yesterday, the sun whispered its golden tales to you as to today, it wears a different hue as clouds gather in quiet conversations.

“oh, look there, the cat has a companion.” you say, breaking the hushed moment being shared between you two, tone with a faint of excitement in it as your eyes flickered with the same note. “do you think they’re a couple?”

“they look alike, perhaps siblings.”

“that’s silly, you know a lot of cats look alike.”

and yet, despite all the small shifts and subtle differences painted on his moment before and currently, his yesterday was no different than his today, perhaps it was because you were there with him. many people experience today in a different way and for him, he experienced today with you—and he could only silently hope that it remains that way forever.

kaveh, alhaitham, baizhu, wanderer, lyney, heizhou, childe

;; making plans to spend more time together

there’s just something so intimate in doing things together even if it’s just as mundane as making plans together, to see if one has time for the other on a certain day so that you can have a small date with him or to see if he could accompany you out shopping. perhaps, it is one way of saying that the time you have right now is not enough, never enough, and you can’t wait to see spend time with each other again even if the two of you are right there besides each other currently—a shared anticipation that whispers of the inadequacy of the present moment, always leaving you yearning for more time in each other's company.

“do you want to go out tomorrow morning?” he asks you, his voice gentle like the soft beating of his heart against your ear. you lay besides him while your head is resting on top of his chest and he has his arm encircled around your figure which urges you to nestle into the curve of it; your forms were intertwined with one another in bed, his fingers going from tracing the delicate of your back to playing the strands of your hair, twirling and combing through it.

“to where are we going?” you answer, head tilting up to look at him and his eyes meet yours in that moment, a soft gaze full of adoration for you and only you. he hums, as if going into thought, “there’s a newly opened cafe down the street, do you want to have breakfast there or do you want to have it here instead? we can cook something together. which one sounds more appealing to you?”

he gives you a set of choices, giving you the freedom for your own comfort and desire—something that you greatly appreciate. you’ve contemplated on your decision, taking just a few seconds to do so: “the former.”

“in a cafe?”

“yeah, i feel like going out tomorrow. can we wake up early so that we could, like, take a walk and go to the park?” he doesn’t give it a second thought, nodding and agreeing to what you have asked: “i don’t mind. maybe we can have a picnic there?”

“next time we can.” you answer in which he responded with a hum. silence then settles in the air between you two yet it doesn’t last long as he spoke once more: “can you move closer? it feels like you’re not that close enough for me.” he says, earning a chuckle from you.

albedo, thoma, tighnari, zhongli, dainsleif, lyney, cyno

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[grandlinedreams]

helloooo!! i was wondering if you could write a story about how law and the reader had a fight, but the reader feels really bad about it,, so they take a hit for him in an battle and almost die ?!!

i understand if you don’t feel comfortable with writing this,,, have a good day/night !!🫶🏻

OUGH I LOVE THAT TROPE TOO GOD LET'S BRING THE PAIN TRAIN but also love putting Law in situations. like bro if you didn't want to don't be so blorbo (borrowing a lil bit from one of my favorite books bc it has a scene like that and OOF)

[heads up!: angst, blood/injury]

There's blood on his hands.

Thick and smelling of copper, it covers his tattoos, his fingertips, his palms. When he looks at his reflection, he distantly notes that it's spattered against his neck and his shirt, too.

There's so much of it, and none of it is his.

"Captain?" Bepo's voice is small and hollow, uncertain as he watches Law sway a little at the sink before he turns the handle and begins scrubbing at his hands. "Are you okay?"

Law wants to laugh. What a stupid question ㅡ but he isn't sure how to answer. Does Bepo mean physically? Mentally? Emotionally? He scrubs at his nails, watches his skin tint pink from the force. Watery red swirls down the drain. "I'm fine, Bepo."

They both know he's lying.

ㅡ

"I'm telling you, this is a bad idea!" Your eyes are narrowed, blazing with fury as you jab your finger into Law's chest for emphasis. "You know better than this. There's no way this will end well, Law. You're going to get someone killed!"

Law's temper flares, and he reaches to bat your hand away from him before he steps around you. "If you have such a problem with the way I lead this crew, then maybe you shouldn't be part of it."

Law won't let anyone else change your bandages.

He winds and unwinds them, an endless loop with peeks at skin knitted back together with thick black thread. His hands ache with the memory of sewing you back together, knowing he'd been actively trying to wrench death's bony fingers from around you.

Pulling back, his gaze drifts over the bandages to the steady rise and fall of your chest. If there's a god who takes requests, he's ready to offer up a plea for you to make it out of this. You have to. You need to.

He still has to apologize.

ㅡ

It takes almost a week before you open your eyes. It's the twitch of your fingers that alerts him first, the shift in your breathing ㅡ and then you're staring at him. Your expression is blank and your eyes are still a little cloudy from medicated sleep, but you're awake. You're alive.

There are a thousand things that Law could say and should, but what tumbles from his lips is nowhere close to any of them.

"You're an idiot."

You blink at him. "Your bedside manner is terrible," you croak, hissing when pain lances up your left side like a wildfire. "What happened? Did I get in a fight with a sea king and lose?"

Law doesn't laugh at your attempt at humor, terrible as it is. He lets his gaze drift, assessing your injuries from minor to major, as he's done for days now. He doesn't want to look at the biggest one, the one that almost took you from him ㅡ so he stares at the bandaid on your cheek. "You were right," he finally says. "About that informant."

You blink. "Oh." You try to move a little, trying to see what else hurts. "Could you repeat that? It's not every day that I hear you admit that I was right about something."

His eyes narrow as his temper flares. "Don't joke," he hisses, "you almost died because you just had to get in the way."

He's doing this all wrong, he knows that ㅡ but he can't quite control his tongue because somewhere he's still a child demanding to know why someone is willing to risk their life for him.

"You're right," you say, and when he looks up he finds you watching him, expression neutral. "I shouldn't joke. I'm sorry."

Law studies you for several long minutes before he speaks again. "Why did you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

His eyes narrow. "Don't play dumb, [Name]. You know what I mean."

You stare at the ceiling, counting the rivets. "Because the Heart Pirates are nothing without our captain," you say, "because we can't afford to lose you. And...I needed to apologize."

Law stares.

"...Apologize." He hears you mumble softly, paler than he's ever seen you as he gathers you up, clutches at you like that alone will stop you from bleeding to death before he ever gets a chance to try and save you.

"So you almost got yourself killed in order to apologize to me? That'sㅡ"

"Something an idiot would do," you interrupt. "Good to know I'm doing what's expected of me."

"Youㅡ" Law shuts his mouth with the click of teeth, jaw taut as he tries his best not to blow up on you before his shoulders sag with a sigh. "Just concentrate on healing. And don't pull a stupid stunt like this ever again." He reaches up, giving the brim of his hat a nervous tug. "I don't like almost losing crewmates."

He doesn't like almost losing you.

"Does that mean I'm still part of the Heart Pirates?" He's confused by your question before the crux of this entire ordeal comes back to him ㅡ the argument the two of you'd had. He doesn't know if you mean to turn the knife, but you do as you repeat his words to him. "If you have such a problem with the way I lead this crew, then maybe you shouldn't be part of it."

His stomach twists. "You're still part of this crew," he reassures you, "which is why I'm telling you that you're not allowed to pull stupid stunts like this again. Am I clear?"

Your eyes lock. "Yes, captain."

The expression on his face softens. "Good."

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Okay HEAR ME OUT--

In theory, if you imagine the gang as family members, it would work something like:

POMNI: gremlin sister/cousin, she's the one who starts all the fights and arguments;

JAX: that little known to whom relative who comes to visit once a year just to teach the kids swear ditties and tell an outrageous story at the communal family table. Your mom thinks he's the one "there's no harm in family."

KINGR: a venerable elderly uncle/grandfather, he may be a third cousin twice removed, but he is adored and respected by everyone, even if he is a little out of sorts at times from old age;

ZOOBLE: a strange relative who appears only once in your life and leaves behind incomprehensible sad memories;

RAGATHA: the universally adored auntie/grandmother/mom. The most understanding and gentle person who supports you in every situation. Probably amasses a beautiful collection of mugs and crocheted doilies;

CAINE: a kind uncle who appears in your life more often than any other relative, but looks sad at times, and because of the damage to your health from tobacco, your mom kicked him out of the house for six months at least;

GANGLE: the oldest of all the cousins/youngest auntie, tall as a bobblehead, emotional as a child. Loves to draw with you and mold plasticine, but don't need to upset her, or..;

BUBBLE: the fucking OUPPY

Hmmm, I'd say it's something more like:

Pomni - The seemingly careless and potty-mouthed relative who gets easily ticked off at the dinner table, but would actually sit down with you, have a genuine talk, and give you a pat on the back when you're feeling down in the dumps

Caine - The one comedic and caring relative who seems goofy ahh, but you when see him smoke outside and sigh so sadly to himself, you realize he's hiding so much baggage that you could never fathom, or will never know because he wants to keep it from everyone

Ragatha - The wine mom of the group, she's good at hiding it but she's actually a couple of threads away from snapping and thus needs some scheduled alone time to unwind (but you are right on the collection of mugs and crocheted dolls)

Jax - The stupid older relative who constantly bullies you and just says "It's just a prank bro" everytime he says something offensive or does a harmful prank because he doesn't know how to lower his masculinity and be vulnerable

Gangle - The talented relative, but was raised by a pretty bad household so now her self-esteem/confidence is at an all-time low and she's very anti-social. You'd have to interact with her first if you want ANY kind of socializing out of her

Z - The one distant but cool-looking relative that seems so apathetic and monotonous all the time, but then once you keep spending time with them and learn their interests, you'll actually find out that they're a bit of a geek about it

Kingr - That one constantly distracted relative who would constantly ramble about his interests, or help you up on the top of the shelf. When you ask questions about his past, he'll answer with quite possibly one of the worst things you've ever heard someone do, but there's a twinge of regret and sadness seeping through his tone.

They're a messy, imperfect and slightly dysfunctional found family, but still loving and caring for one another, just scarred by their pasts and needs healing from it.

... and Bubble is definitely the fucking dog.

[waitmyturtles]

BLUBBERING SPOILERS BELOW FOR I FEEL YOU LINGER IN THE AIR, EPISODE 12/FINALE:

YEAH. SO. YEAH. SO!

This can't be meta. I don't think I can conjure it. Just blather. I'll try to be sensible. First, a little housekeeping before we start the meeting:

We know there will be a special episode (the preview looks..... LIKE A GODDAMN HOLIDAY GIFT, GAAAAHHH).

Peeps are going back and forth on a second season, and while it seems that Nonkul Chanon blurted it out during the final episode fan meeting (lol you cute, Nonkul), Tee Bundit is rolling back a bit, *likely* due to funding. But seeing social media going absolutely INSANE over this ending, I can't imagine that Dee Hup will have any issue with finding the moolah for a second season -- especially after that after-credits scene, WITH HORSES, WITH MUSTACHES, WITH TATTOOS, WITH ARMOR, the whole thang. Tee let that shit hang all out like that. Warrior-era Thailand, let's m'fing go. That was a hell of a lead into a second season that may not happen, come awn.

Alright, with that out of the way:

I didn't think a show would top Moonlight Chicken for me this year, but IFYLITA is my top new drama of the year (with the HEAVY CAVEAT that I have not seen La Pluie yet -- that's for either after my Old GMMTV Challenge, or just making sure I watch it before year's end).

Part of the reason why I lost my gatdamn mind last week on episode 11 is that Tee Bundit did not interfere with any damn nonsense last week -- he let the episode's story unwind without any noise. He let the emotion roll.

The same light touch (or rather, a lack of interference) happened here, BUT: there was a LOT more happening firstly by way of closing some loops that were open, moving to new loops, and shedding more depth into Jom and Yai's final moments together

We got closure on Yai's dad, who was grumpily like, uhhh, I dunno what happened in my life, but yeah, daughter Eaung Peang, you go have a good life with Maey, crotchety crotch. I think that's the best we could get from politically involved dads of 1928 Chiang Mai. (EP AND MAEY SWINGING THEIR HANDS WHILE WALKING AWAY -- SAAAHHSHAY FROM ALL THAT, LADIES, SASHAY.) It looks like EP's herbal abortion left her safe -- thank goodness. We didn't see James or Ming this episode.

For loops that weren't closed, I'm not complaining, because we got an explanation for how Jom's beloved ones will repeat in his reincarnated futures and pasts, through the explanation of the northern Thai ceremony of having 32 blessings reinstated to you after illness or misfortune (THREE CHEERS for @blmpff for capturing screenshots of this explanation!). (AND THE WHITE THREAD, PEEPS, THE WHITE THREAD, I'm coming back to this in a second.) If we do get a season 2, then I will not be colored surprised if we see Ming and James in different roles. (And, yes. Your bitch here has relaxed on Pat's shooter, finally. My nose was trained on James being a colonialist interferer, but he did good last episode.)

But this episode belonged, of course, to Yai and Jom, their final moments together in 1928 Chiang Mai, saying the slow farewell as Jom slowly disappeared in front of Yai's eyes.

LORD. WHEWWWWWWWWWWWWW. The lacy fabric with which Yai used to cover the mirrors so that Jom wouldn't see himself fade away. The empathy of that. The scene where we heard their lovemaking over the flashbacks montage. WHEW. WHOA. (I did say, to my friend @shortpplfedup, something something Jom started really fading away after that intimate scene and something something had the ontology cough cough outta him, ANYWAY.)

The way that Yai pitched forward when Jom finally disappeared.

AND I MOTHERFUCKING SCREAMED WHEN JOM AND MUSTACHIOED YAI WERE ABOUT TO TOUCH INTO THE WATER AGAIN, AND THEN THE DIVER EMT WAS LIKE, BLOOP I'M HERE AND OH, JOM, YOU'RE ALIVE IN 2023. I yelped in the deli, shit. The way Jom was silently screaming in the water for Yai.

And, so. In the "present" day (present dimension, really), Jom survived that CRAAAAZY car accident (LIKE! WHAT?! He flew out of the car into the water, bros! The magic of fiction, anyway.)

He.......he holds space for Ohm?! Looking BACK on that scene, AFTER we get the explanation of the 32 blessings, we realize: despite Ohm's infidelity and his promise to a new woman, Ohm is still important in Jom's life -- he's still a beloved presence, as he did mean something, for a long time, to Jom. Of course, modern Jom did NOT let a moment to shade Ohm pass him by, oh no. But wasn't that interesting to note? That Jom's dimensions would allow Ohm to be in those dimensions -- that Ohm would be reincarnated through Jom's 32 blessings (at least in the past direction).

You know what I also loved about seeing Jom in his present-day apartment, with the present-day Jeed, Ohm, and Khaimuk (aka Fong Kaew). I LOVED WHAT THAT CASTING, THE SHIFTING OF THE CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATIONS, SAID ABOUT JOM'S PERSPECTIVE OF EQUITY IN 1928 AND 2023.

Jeed is NOT Khun Eaung Peang. Jeed is ALL SASS. But Jeed is YOUNGER than Jom. Jom, in 2023, is P'Jom, with the honorific. Present-day Jom can smack his little sister's head in jest. Jeed can be OUT and SAFE and have a crush on her girl friend, safely, and can ask for her brother's support, OPENLY.

Jom never stopped being Jom, whether it was 2023 pre-accident, 1928, or 2023 post-accident. Jom is comfortable in his own skin, and wants happiness AND EQUITY for the people he loves around him. I love that the casting and characterizations of the incarnations of the characters reflect Jom's state of mind that all people are equal and the same, no matter a fancy honorific or a royally appointed residence.

I screamed at @shortpplfedup when I saw Jom wearing the white thread in bed during the thunderstorm. I stopped, rewound, and saw he was wearing the white thread in the water scene with Warrior Yai. The white thread never left his wrist -- he still has his blessings intact.

And, and, and, back to the house of Palanthip in 2023. Who's the lady of the house? This lady knows Jom's the only one who can open that chest. The chest opens, the drawings are there, THE PICTURE OF THEIR PARTY, AND THE LETTER FROM YAI TO JOM, THE LETTER, THE TEARS, AKSLKDF, AND, AND, AND --

Oh my god, I was crying, y'all. Shit. Just our confident dude, striding in, asking Jom, sweetheart, why are you crying. And Jom jumping into Yai's arms.

I was shaking my head. I mean. I love that we learned that Yai actually HAD HIS OWN BLESSINGS CEREMONY because he was so lost after Jom's departure. WE LEARNED ABOUT THE REST OF YAI'S LIFE. We know, now, that the Yai of 1928 yearned for Jom for the rest of his life. So much so that, at the twilight of the life of 20th-century Yai, that he had the good mind to leave Jom a letter, to let Jom know that his life was a good life, because Jom had been in it. To let Jom know that Yai's love had never faded away.

AND THEN THAT YAI CAME BACK TO JOM.

Jom, dude, you're a good dude, for these good people to be coming back to you, in dimension after dimension. That monk was right.

I told you this was just blathering; I can try to put some sensible thoughts together in a few days, but the structure of this story, the empathy of this story, the way this story was leveraged by drama and romance and HOPE. I mean. This series was utterly fantastic.

I know there's the lifelong debate of whether or not BLs "count" as queer media, and in many, many instances, they do. But since I've had the disappointment of Only Friends and GMMTV on my mind lately, I had to note, mentally, particularly during the lovemaking scene, and during the closure of this episode, that Tee really fucking handed it to anyone who criticizes BL as a not-as-sophisticated drama genre.

And you know what? I also wanna say that Tee fucking handed it to GMMTV as well. I am so DAMN glad this series was airing when Only Friends was airing. While Only Friends sat on the opportunity to present progressive ideas on queer love and queer community, IFYLITA ROLLED right into it.

(I'll ask @lurkingshan to fact-check me on the following:) Because this series was a historical drama with a queer romance centering it, I think Tee Bundit could feel free from the chains of BL tropes and expectations to do something truly singular. I felt that what I was watching was cinematic, it was moving, it was strikingly emotional, particularly because I felt that this show was showing me something that transcended any viewer's expectations of what we should be watching, as opposed to, say, a BL set in an office like Tee's Step By Step. Where that show fumbled was in the show itself not knowing if it was a workplace drama or a BL-centric romance.

IFYLITA knew what it was: a historical drama, certainly centering romance, but also balancing conversations about equity and wealth disparities across eras. With that uncomplicated centering, I think Tee Bundit made an absolutely BRILLIANT show, and it fucking WORKED.

I will scream to anyone who'll hear me. If you haven't watched I Feel You Linger In The Air yet, do it, PLEASE PLEASE. Y'all know I am an Aof Noppharnach girlie for life, and I LIVE FOR MOONLIGHT CHICKEN, I DO, I DO, all of my Asian references in MLC and the food and everything, god I loved that show, but --

IFYLITA was a cinematic masterpiece. Full stop. All hail @neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan for telling me to keep with it after my Step By Step-PTSD. This show was worth every last minute I spent watching and writing on it.

Season 2, Warrior Yai, let's get him a better mustache -- let's FUCKING GO, BABIES.

P.S. BRIGHT AND NONKUL FOR LIFE, FOR LIFE!!!!!!! THE ACTING!!!!!! MY GOD!!!!!

[do-not-fearr]

Grabbing the Bull by the Horns - Asterius x Reader - Part 1

So my hiatus was already technically over, but my writing was taking forever lol. Anyways here's a new story, and there's not even smut in it (yet!). Friend keeps making fun of my beefy (geddit) intros before the actual smut, but I can't help it. This was the worst offender though, so I decided to cut this one into two parts with part 2 having the smut. Written while traveling so I hope there aren't too many mistakes!

PART 2

Pairing: Minotaur x f!Reader

Wordcount: 4833 words

Tags: blood, mentions of death (minor), no smut

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events you find yourself in a labyrinth, trying to find you way out. The minotaur helps you find your way.

Crying in a tangled mess of red thread, that's how he found you at the end of the labyrinth. But really, there was no other way he could've found you, for the labyrinth did not have an end. With walls that changed and paths that were ever winding, you were doomed from the moment you were put inside, and his heart squeezed in his chest. This labyrinth was used as punishment for heavy crimes committed by the supernatural, and he wondered why you were here. The crimson red thread you had used to find your way around was now tangled around you. It was a nice visual touch on soft, exposed skin, your hands raw and bloody from unwinding the coarse wool that had finally run out, and he felt the need to get closer. Jeans ripped at the knees showing chafed skin underneath, face dirtied with tears and dried blood. You looked like a frightened animal in need of comfort.

He, however, refrained. He was a monster, created to punish those thrown in the labyrinth. He was afraid he could not be gentle or soft, blood already pounding in his ears from the bloodlust that crawled just beneath his skin. A scream from elsewhere had his ears perk up - he'd get the others first, he told himself. Maybe the labyrinth would end you before he had to. He ignored the silent hope inside him that you would survive.

-

How did any of this come to be? You were just an average person. Well, an average hungry person. You had spend all day on a new hobby that had completely taken over your mind lately; knitting - and it was well into the late evening when you realized you hadn't had dinner yet. A groan escaped you when you realized you didn't have any food to cook, and you had to go outside to the store despite how comfortable you were at the moment. 

"Why am I like this?" you muttered to yourself as you put on your coat, grabbing a bag and you wallet just before stepping out. It was dark out, just after sunset, and despite the fact that it wasn't quite that late yet there were no people around. An almost eerie silence hung in the air as you quickly made your way to the supermarket. Something felt wrong, but you couldn't put your finger on it. There were goosebumps on your arms, but relief in your sigh as your eyes found the well lit windows of the supermarket. You couldn't see anyone inside, but the familiar sight had you release some tension none the less. The door already opened, warm air greeting you as your feet brought you closer to the threshold where outside met inside. 

Just before you could enter however, you were grabbed from behind, and all the tension inside you returned full force as an embarrassing screech escaped you. Struggling against this unseen assailant you used your full body weight to pull yourself forward, into the safety of the supermarket, as someone yelled something in your ear you couldn't quite decipher. The voice registered as female as you fell back, and you realized they were begging you to wait. 

The struggle left you as you slowly turned back to her, seeing a frightened looking woman about your age, hunched over and holding her arms around her body protectively.

"I'm sorry for grabbing you," she spoke quickly with hushed tone, as if she was afraid someone was going to overhear you. "I was just so scared. There is no one out here, only us, and I thought that if you were to cross the threshold into the supermarket I'd be completely alone out here."

What a strange thing to say. "Why don't you come with me inside then? You startled me to death... I could've hurt you, or myself." There was something off about her, but you weren't sure what exactly it was that made alarm bells go off in your brain. One thing that dawned on you was that it wasn't just your own feeling that the outside world was eerily empty and quiet. What was going on?

"I've... I've done something bad," the woman said, something dark coming over her expression for just a second before the air of wild fear replaced it again. Her flailing arms motioned to something around in an uncoordinated manner, but you weren't sure what she was referring to. "I think this is for me."

...yeah. She had lost the plot. You were going to go inside the supermarket and ask for help, because you both probably needed it at this point. "Okay..." was your answer as you shuffled backwards towards the safety of the store. "I'm just gonna... find someone, okay?"

She lunged forward again, and you stumbled, falling to the ground with her on top of you. Your knees burned, and a sound of pain escaped you as you were once again stopped from entering. So close to the door it opened again, the sounds of conversation and the beeping of the scanners meeting your ears. It was as if no one noticed what was going on in front of them though, as the woman struggled to pull you back. 

"Help!" you gasped while she held you down with surprising strength. It almost felt like your voice stopped at the door, and even when you made eye contact with someone they looked right through you. "Let me go!"

"I can't-" she growled, "If I do I'll be- I think I might-" 

Might what? You had no idea what was going on, and it seemed she, unhinged as she was, at least had an inkling. Your eyes widened when someone finally walked your way from inside, hoping to finally get some help, only for them to disappear right in the middle of the doorway. It was like there was some sort of barrier between you and the other people; only you and this crazy woman inside of this empty, backroom-esque outdoors. 

"What did you do? What is going on?" you fought as hard as you could, grabbing your bag to have something to hit her with, a ball of red yarn rolling out almost comically as the bag made contact softly and without any impact. A curse left you at this, and fear renewed inside of you when her hands found their way around your throat, choking you with desperation. 

"I don't deserve this," she grated out, "It was their own fault..." Your hands scratched at hers, blood welling up surprisingly quickly beneath your nails, but she did not let go. Her eyes bulged as the blood dripped down your arms in thin streams, watching as it dirtied your clothes. Her demeanour grew more feverish as she wailed out: "I will not be captured. I'll let them take you instead!" 

Drool hung from your lips as you felt your eyesight blur, but the moment you thought it was the end she let go, jumping from you towards the safety of the supermarket. You saw her enter almost too easily, and she looked back one more time, towards you, where her dark eyes now looked straight through you. 

She was safe, but were you? With tears in your eyes you got up quickly, body aching as you moved. Grabbing the stupid ball of red yarn as you angrily put it in you bag, hurrying to follow the woman inside. Rushing to get out of this uncanny empty world, but before you could take one step on unsteady feet the ground below you opened up and swallowed you whole.

-

Your hearing came back before the rest of your senses as you jolted up from a scream somewhere too close for comfort. It was darker than before when you came to- eyes slowly adjusting to realize you were staring at a blank wall. Behind you was another wall, but to both your sides was a dark, seemingly never ending corridor. Growing darker the further it seemed to stretch. You jolted to your feet when another scream came from your right, much closer than the first, or at least that's what you thought with you being unconscious before and all.

Quickly you made your way down the dark corridor, the only thing lighting your path the moon coming from above. For a moment you thought about climbing the walls to get a better look at where you were, but when you ran your hand over painfully smooth stone you dropped that idea. The walls were high, and had nothing you could grip onto. There was no way you were going to be able to climb them without help, so you just needed to move forward and hope to find an exit out of this nightmare soon. 

The road split in two, and you groaned. Left of you another long, dark hall stretched out, to your right you could see another split in the distance. Looking up there was nothing but dark skies, filled with stars you couldn't name in your growing panic. There was nothing to tell you where to go, no place you could remember for later, and you realized your breathing had picked up significantly, deafening you to the world around. 

Where were you going to go? Well, both sides seemed equally uninviting, and you really didn't want to pick one at random... Until heavy, dragging footsteps from behind made you choose the right quickly. Drawing a cross on the dirt with your feet as you went so you would recognize this spot later. No use in thinking too hard when you were being followed by someone. Chances of them helping you out in this crazy labyrinth were practically non-existent, and if they were here to harm you as your gut feeling was screaming at you it was best to just run. Deciding to just choose right every time since you would... probably... reach an exit if you just kept your right hand on one wall even when the clouds obscured the moon stealing your vision was your plan of action. The sounds behind you had ceased, but instead the longer you were walking around the more other sounds you could make out. A slight mumbling suddenly filled your ears as you turned a corner, and you strained your ears to make out what was being said- unable to find the source of the voices until you put your ear against one of the walls. 

It seemed that two people on the other side were having a hushed conversation that slowly rose in volume before turning into straight up screaming. You stepped away from the wall as you realized what you were hearing sounded much like a lovers spat, the two people on the other side blaming the other for being here and being lost. Thoughts about finding them somehow died before you could think about it properly as strange snarling sounds suddenly overtook the sounds of them yelling, and their yelling turned into frightened screaming. Ripping and splattering sounds quickly followed as the screaming turned into gurgles, and all blood withdrew from your face at your realization that something had brutally murdered them. It sounded snarling and monstrous, and you were frozen on the spot, not knowing whether moving ahead or moving back was going to bring you closer towards it. There was only a wall between you now, and you were unsure how thick the wall was, and if the murderer could tell you were on the other side. A small whimper escaped you before you could swallow the sound, and your limbs started shaking from the strain of standing so still, hunched over. Shit, had it heard you? Holding your breath you listened for any indication, blood running cold when you heard a strange sniffing sound. Could it... could it possibly smell you from the other side? Tears gathered in your eyes but you kept still, listening for any signs of the creature coming your way, but a loud scream coming from further back startled you so much you jumped. Thankfully no further sound escaped you as you heard a strange war cry from the other side. You decided this was the moment to run. Bolting away further down your path, opposite to the sound of the scream - possibly from another unlucky victim coming upon what you could only imagine was a gruesome murder scene and some sort of animal. 

You rounded the corner and stopped when you found another split in the road, only this time you could vaguely make out a hastily scribbled cross in the dirt on the split to the left. 

-

He smelled blood. He smelled blood everywhere, and it was driving him crazy. As a being created to punish, both his bloodlust and his sense of justice were elevated beyond that of a human. And all the ones he came across he would punish - as they deserved. A rallying cry escaped him as strong human legs carried him forward, further into the labyrinth. He'd find all that were lost in here, sooner or later. The labyrinth may let the ones inside escape, eventually, he would not.

-

Your mind was running in circles and so were you it seemed. But not only had you been here before, the cross was on the wrong side. Had you turned back somewhere? Was someone playing a trick on you by writing the cross on the other side? Or had someone else had the same idea as you? There was no use in thinking about it calmly, that stop had come and passed. Thinking about things calmly was no longer in the stars for you, and when you suddenly thought about the red yarn in your backpack it almost felt like your brain shouldn't have been clear enough for such a realization. You feared there was nothing you could tie it to, but you suddenly found a hook attached to the wall you hadn't noticed before. It was pretty close to the floor, so there was nothing you could do with it other than tie your little yarn to it, and start walking once again. Now you couldn't be confused with other people's marks, and if you'd take a turn to see your red thread you'd know to take another route. Slowly you started walking again, taking the right once again, glaring daggers at the cross as you went.

You passed piles of something, and you were about to investigate when you noticed the dark pools muddying the sand beneath it. The blood on the walls was the next thing you saw and you backed away. Someone, something had been slaughtered here, pieces of it scattered on the floor and you shuddered, moving on quickly, your eyes trained on the road ahead.

It was going well enough, until at the next corner your thread went taut. There had been significant slack before, and it was too sudden to just be because you hadn't unrolled your yarn enough, it was almost like someone was pulling it and you stopped in your tracks. A small curse escaped you when the rope went slack again. One thing that you left yourself vulnerable to with your idea was that someone could follow you inside this maze perfectly, so you picked up your pace. There were sounds from all around you that scared the shit out of you, but you had to keep going; you had to find the exit. You went by another corner and your eyes caught sight of a red thread, tangled and messy but undeniably yours. You were about to turn the other way when you noticed something strange. Instead of coming from a hallway the yarn seemed to come straight from the corner of where 2 walls met, and you stepped forward to look at it a little closer, confused. You pulled at it a little and though at first you thought it was stuck there when you tried a little harder you could actually pull the yarn out further. Frayed from the friction of the stone it was trapped between it snapped as something terrible dawned on you. 

The yarn continued behind this wall, so you had come through this wall. There had been a clear path before, and now there was not. Panicked you looked at the ground, finally seeing how the earth seemed to have been moved and displaced by what you could only assume to be the large, moving walls. Cursing yourself for not not noticing this earlier you realised it wouldn't have mattered. Knowing this could only bring you hopelessness, and you were almost glad you hadn't known this from the start; all your hope suddenly dashed as you felt a dark pit of despair almost swallow you up. But you couldn't stop now.

Wrought with desperation, you moved on, unable to blink back tears as you knew walls shifted and moved behind you, leaving an ever changing maze around that you're sure has no end. Until you just can't anymore. Exhausted, desperate, crying, tangled in your own useless yarn, you collapsed against one of the walls.

And that's when you saw him for the first time. There's fear, raw, painful fear that numbed and rooted you to the spot, as you locked eyes with black pools that stared back unblinkingly. You recognised the creature that's standing still at the end of a hallway as a minotaur. Not that you'd ever seen one in real life of course, but you've read myths about a maze and a minotaur. It's almost funny how you seemed to be inside of one of those stories yourself, and you felt a hysterical cackle bubbling up that you only barely held down, too scared to make a peep. 

"You don't belong here," it said, voice deep and rumbling and not entirely human. "There must've been a mistake." he voiced exactly what you had been thinking all this time and this time you couldn't stop the dry chuckle that left you. 

"Can you take me out of here then?" the creature flinched, and you almost felt something like unease coming from him, legs ready to bolt. You were sure there was no way he could be afraid of you though.

-

She was still there. He had seen her, left for other business and come back, and she was still where she had been before; unmoving. She had given up. A part of him wanted to laugh at her weakness, rile her up so she'd run from him with renewed desperation, but another part was concerned for her, telling him that she didn't belong here. After all, she was just a simple human, and simple humans didn't get judged in the maze.

-

"How did you get here?" he said after a long silence. "You should be able to return from the way you came." The look you gave him would have been comical if the situation wasn't so grave.

"You mean inside of the maze? just... retrace my steps until I'm back to where I was? Or do you mean how I got to the maze in the first place? I don't know how to get back either way." 

He nodded, crossing strong arms in front of a muscular chest, and you shivered. Now that you got a good look at him you noticed he was covered in blood. Old blood flaking off, new blood splattered across a broad chest. And ever since you'd locked eyes with the creature you had tried not to look at its head, fresh fear coursing through you with each accidental peak. There was a monster right in front of you; the thing that had ripped the others apart, the reason for the screams you'd heard. However you felt no immediate threat from the creature, not with the way he was pondering your answer, arms crossed and tapping a bloodied finger on an even bloodier arm. Head tilted half to the sky as he murmured to himself, the occasional flick of his furry ears and the tapping the only movement coming from him. Oh and the tail that lazily swished behind him, comically cleaning a spot on the wall behind him with its movement. 

-

Well, there you were. He should kill you now, everyone else was already dead or taken by someone else. You were the only one left, and if he didn't do it now someone else would take his prey from him. The fact that you hadn't run into any traps yet surprised him, and he was almost angry that he had to be the one to do this. He looked you over again, but found that he couldn't do it. Something in him stopped him from seeing you as prey, no matter how desperate and frail and somehow cute you were at this moment. What was he to do?

-

You were unsure why, but you were somehow calmed by his presence. Slowly you gained the mental energy to untangle yourself from your own yarn, the red digging into your skin, tangles evidence of your earlier breakdown. 

"Will you help me get out?" you meekly asked, as you put the newly wound ball of yarn on the ground next to you, one thread of it reaching towards where the Minotaur was standing; the way you came from. The ball was small, unless you were going to reach the end soon there was no way the yarn would last all the way, but you couldn't part with it just yet. As you stood up you reached for it, holding it tightly in sore hands as if it was your lifeline. The minotaur seized you up it seemed, not replying yet. You shivered, fatigue in your expression, and he made a strange sound in the back of his throat, uncrossing his arms and snorting. 

"Well, you wouldn't be able to get out by yourself, would you?"

It was true, obviously. It wasn't for lack of trying, but could you trust him? Probably not, but did you have a choice?

"Please?" 

Well, how could he possibly say no to that. "Fine." it was less a word than it was a grunt, but when he walked up to you and grabbed your arm you felt both relief and panic flood you all the same. He was rough, pulling you along as he looked around like a wild animal, grunting and snorting, his ears flicking this way and that as his tail hit your legs once in a while while you stumbled behind him.

Your panic and his wild state made you uncomfortable, and you weren't sure if you wanted to fill the silence with your ramblings, but when he asked something along the lines of "How did you even get caught up in this?"  the words spilled from your mouth like water. You told him about the strange streets of your hometown, you told him about the lady that had grabbed you and prevented you from going to the store, how something seemed off about her, but you couldn't quite place it, and that after she had ran off you had lost consciousness. He nodded his large bull head, a movement much larger than if a human would do the same, and the movement caused a small smile to form on your face. You had never seen a creature quite like him, and as he dragged you along seemingly already traveled hallways you had time to look your saviour over properly.

The first obvious thing was his head; a black horned bull head with wild, flaming eyes, a snarling mouth and somehow adorable furry ears that flicked nervously. From his neck down he was a well build man with bronze skin, countless scars and a tail that trailed behind him, hitting you against your legs once in a while. The only thing he wore was a loincloth and you had to tear your eyes away from him as you focused on the road ahead, trying not to think about the fact that you definitely liked what you saw. You wondered how far you'd have to go to get out, and if you were even able to get out, your thoughts interrupted by a cuss and walls moving in front of you so abruptly that both you and the minotaur struggled to stop in time. He managed, but you bumped straight into him, the fleshy sound of your bodies colliding echoing off the walls. You apologised profusely, but he shushed you suddenly with a hand over your mouth, pulling you back in a dark corner you hadn't realised was there at first. 

You looked back inquisitively over his large hand still covering your lower face and met his wild eyes once more. He puffed out some air and looked away, motioning to something up ahead in one of the paths that had opened up just now. Two identical men came walking down the path, but there was something strange about them that made you shiver and want to look away. He loosened his grip and you quickly turned around into his chest, unable to bear looking at the two that appeared, and hoping they'd leave quickly. When their voices came closer he pushed you back into the dark corner, stepping in front of you and bristling loudly. 

"What are you doing here?" he roared, and you made yourself smaller behind him, "This is my area."

One of them spoke, a sound that made you flinch, despite the fact that it was a very normal human voice, unlike the one from the minotaur. 

"No it's not." it said, "you went outside of your territory, Aster."

The other continued, but their voices were so similar it could've been the same guy. "There's talk about a human still being free somewhere around here, and we'd like to find it ourselves." 

"Humans are a rarity around here. We wonder how they taste." 

Aster, as you assumed his name was, bristled once again. "She's my prey!" he said while stomping the ground, making sand fly up. It was quite like an actual bull ready to charge and you heard some shuffling from the two men, their terrible voices getting further away as they decided not to fight Aster on this just yet. His wording hadn't filled you with much confidence though, and you wondered if your feeling of safety behind the broad back of this beast was justified.

"Finders keepers," one said. 

"Eat it, or keep it as a pet, I wonder which one is more appealing..." the other added, before their voices faded to nothing and it was quiet again, safe for the sound of your panicked heartbeat in your chest. 

"Will you kill me?" you asked him after a little bit, dodging his hand as he reached out to grab your arm again and he huffed. 

"I should," he said, "That's my job."

Your legs trembled as you put your feet a little further apart, toes digging into the soil as you were ready to bolt, but he grabbed you before you could, fingers once again digging into your skin. He was rough, but at your flinch his fingers loosened a bit. Not enough so that you could run, but enough that it didn't actually hurt you. 

"I won't though. You don't belong here, and I will make sure you get out safe. There's no sport in hunting the weak and innocent." The last part was added under his breath but you could just make it out, once again taking note of the blood that still covered him. Well, you had little choice but to trust him at this point, following him once again as he started walking. You didn't run into anyone else before you got to a large opening, greenery growing against the walls from the abundance of nature outside of it. 

Your heart made a little jump in your chest when you realised you'd reached the exit of the labyrinth, and you squeezed Aster's hand. 

"It's the exit!" you whispered to him, and he nodded his large head. 

"Yes," he replied bluntly, letting go of your hand. "Just crossing the threshold should be enough to send you back to your world. Now go." 

You skipped forward, stopping to look back at Aster one last time, thanking him for helping you awkwardly and waving, wondering if you should give him a hug or something and deciding that was probably a bit too much. You were turning around when from the corner of your eyes you saw quick movement. 

It was one of the guys you'd seen before, and he was now standing between you and the exit. When you looked back at Aster for help you saw the other one stand between you and Aster, both laughing widely and showing pure black inside. You had finally found the exit, but now there was another obstacle between you and freedom. Were you ever going to get out of here?

-

@stygianoir

[beacarrot]

Neverland.

Once upon a time, or two, maybe three,

On a page of flight through London’s clouds free,

A tale worth the urban legends of yore,

Of fairies who dared to fly far and explore,

When they all turned so gravely serious, leaving magic behind,

And belief in its wonders grew harder to find.

I try to see other things, yet I’m pulled to you still,

Like a ship signaling it’s harder to save it, how to heal,

Again, once more, and then yet again,

I try to stand tall, put myself in front of this, but keep folding with,

I don’t know which constellation to face,

Or if Big Ben’s clock will soon mark my place,

What’s the next step, the right one to tread,

To the path that aligns with what lies ahead?

One sole direction, no two, three, four or five,

No more, no less,

For promises broken would leave me restless,

And that’s how we lost our way back then,

Me and them, the lost boys, again.

The chapter of the "Lost Boys",

A delicate perspective, so vivid, so frail,

Each with flaws they could barely disguise,

The charming one with curls and branch-tangled ties,

The small adventurer with crystalline eyes and his hat,

Finding shortcuts wherever their spirits fell flat,

The rebel, mysterious, who wandered caves,

Lost in directions only silence paves,

Another who loved to fly without care,

Golden hair dancing through open air,

And there was the bold, the one dressed to lead,

Stories at hand, a hero indeed,

His troop followed him close, a bond innate,

He told their stories with faith,

But on this isle, they all made their stay...

And I was just a girl,

I am just a girl,

Foolish, reckless, dreamy, absurd,

Longing for something to return,

Staring out through my window’s pane and...

Oh, don’t take me back again,

Oh, don’t take me back again,

Crying so softly, alone in my room,

With every shield dropped, unexpectedly the surrender in bloom,

And amidst this sound, I whisper low:

Oh, don’t take me back, don’t let me go,

This is a dream, a half-truth, a tender plea:

"Just take me to Neverland and set me free."

I never wanted to grow, though these drugs cost runs high,

I dared to fall, to leap, to defy,

I only wanted speak, but I refused to hear,

Fleeing fears and battles near,

I confess I’m brave to say,

Yet weak to face,

Face the music,

I danced on flames to avoid the chore,

But deep inside, a voice implored:

"Ignorance is innocence’s younger kin."

Enough! I do not want to grow up!

I cling to innocence, like a fool to wind,

Seeking the core I’ve yet to find.

Self-reliance, standards, vulgarity,

Discernment, maturity, sensuality,

Money, prices, fame, success,

None of these are what I want,

None of these are what I want,

None of these are what I want,

I’m racing time, my hands are torn,

The asphalt scrapes, my knees forlorn,

With every shred of hope I recall,

Can I buy my innocence back at all?

Say yes, I beg!

I feel I’m losing,

My youth, my courage, my heart, my being,

The earth is pulling me down, I’m fleeing!

All I want is to fly,

That's what I want,

That's what I want,

That's what I want,

I want to lean on the balcony that Peter Pan will land!

The chapter of the "Captain Hook",

The iron of reason spins and scolds,

Hit the ground, the cold truth bites,

As lions reach you in the dead of night,

Damn, you were children,

Didn't glance behind,

The fairy tale unravels, it threads unwind,

But you saved me then, took me through the breeze,

No, the issue wasn’t you,

You guys are the solution,

It's his insane way I love too vast, too deep,

Losing myself in feelings I keep,

Oh God, again, I do not want to grow!

I want to live, forever to glow,

Take the dead-end street and debut my name,

An addictive thrill, a siren’s flame,

Staring out through my window’s pane and...

Oh, don’t take me back again,

Oh, don’t take me back again,

Crying so softly, alone in my room,

With every shield dropped, unexpectedly the surrender in bloom,

And amidst this sound, I whisper low:

Oh, don’t take me back, don’t let me go,

This is a dream, a half-truth, a tender plea:

"Just take me to Neverland and set me free."

Hey, hear me!

Come back, stay near,

Today, tomorrow, beyond the sphere,

Forget the stars,

Pests and prey,

Prove to me all I saw was right,

You don’t need to be far for me to miss you,

Though I know you can’t drop everything,

But I can, I will,

The golden cord never broke its seal,

Wait for me at the station line,

Don’t fear the chime or count the beats, the fucking time,

When you least expect, I’ll be in your life, you'll can see my sight,

A one-way flight to the secret land, in a quick light.

Now I shout, begging the magic dust not to fade...

Oh, don’t take me back again...

Oh, don’t take me back again...

Oh, don’t take me back again...

Oh, don’t take me back again...

The tightening suffocates me;

Yet I look up, your hands are still free,

Free to hold me,

Open, waiting to save me again,

How since you found me and renewed my faith within,

This is a dream, a half-truth, a tender plea:

"Take me to Neverland, to meet the boy who never grew...for that land is my haven, and I keep them too."

(I wrote this poem about something very delicate for me; growth and memories. Even though I'm still very young, things change and never stop changing and the world never stops turning. People have always said that I have "Peter Pan syndrome" because of my difficulty in growing up and accepting life the way it is. I'm almost like a child, and I'm afraid of growing up while I'm already growing up. I have a love for the tale of Peter Pan, it's my favorite story and I related Neverland with my own personal Neverland, which is something that always brings me back to the best times of my life, in this case, it's my favorite band, which has always done me and will do me so much good!)

Signed: Beatriz Ranzonni 🩵.

[wyrmst]

Something Borrowed (Part Thirteen)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 7485

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Rope Bondage, Condom Use, Anal Sex (Reader Receives)

This part took so, so long for me to get how I wanted it, but I'm really pleased with the end result now- it might be one of my favorite scenes I've written so far! So, I'm glad I stuck it through. Just one more part to go!!

Before you can second guess yourself, you’re subtly ducking out into the hall. Seeing the area is devoid of witnesses, you proceed to rush down the corridor at a half-dash, your hand still clutching Carlyle’s. Luckily, he was paying close enough attention to not be yanked off his feet, and is on your heels all the way to the elevator.

You sneak a kiss or three in the ride up to your room, the thought of another guest entering the scene the only thing even slightly holding you back. You hum a giggle against Carlyle’s lips pressed to yours.

Once inside the privacy of the hotel room, you immediately shrug out of your suit jacket, uncharacteristically flinging it across the corner chair in the strength of your relief. One of you has the presence of mind to see your discarded blazer to an appropriate hanger (though it isn’t you).

“It’s over! Hahah-” You exclaim in joy. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the standing mirror next to the chair- seeing a brighter, less burdened version of yourself you haven’t seen in a long time.

You’re tempted to flop flat on the bed, limbs out like a starfish, but you settle on idling in front of the window to look at the view, instead. There’s a whole sprawling world out there where your ex’s wedding isn’t happening, and you are ready to rejoin it with a smile.

“It’s over.” Carlye repeats in rumbly approval, threading his own jacket onto a hanger before placing it in the closet alongside yours. “And with no casualties, even- I consider that a win.”

“I’m just so chuffed to be done with it.” You say, the strong mix of relief and glee a clearly audible tremor in your voice as you stretch. “Feels like the first breath of air I've had in months!”

“Good.” You can feel his presence looming behind you now, confirmed moments later by the feel of a clawtip running along the length of your dress shirt’s yoke. “You deserve to relax.”

“...My, that does sound nice.” You say, the last scrap of your restraint barely clinging to you.

“Perhaps you would like some assistance, then-” Carlyle closes the gap from your back to his chest, nestling his chin on your shoulder. His hands find your necktie and despite doing the motions mostly blind from his vantage point, uses a claw tip to gently pry the loop with immaculate precision. “Some help to unwind?”

“If anything, I think I could use some- some more winding.” You huff, already finding it hard to think straight from the pleasant pressure of his forearms flexing against your torso. “If you catch my meaning…”

“Oh, well, if that’s the case, I certainly have ample ideas on that.”

“Ah, you’ve got things all planned out, have you?”

“Something like that.” Carlyle easily finishes undoing your tie, the fabric taut against the side of your neck before it’s loose and slipping away over your shoulder and out of sight. You miss the feeling of him at your back immediately. “I haven’t stopped planning what we had negotiated before… Well. Before.”

Carlyle leaves the word hanging as it is, clearly not feeling the need to dredge up what happened when you already know what he means. You’re almost concerned that the thought has soured how things were progressing, but your worry is short lived, as his touch returns as soon as he’s set your tie on the dresser.

You let out a pleasant sigh when he’s embracing you once more and pressing kisses to your neck. His hands find your torso again, possessively this time- fingers digging just ever so slightly into the soft flesh of your abdomen, grinding the fabric of your dress shirt against your warming skin.

“I may have brought the supplies with me, even,” You hear the smirk in his voice over your shoulder. “Just in case you were still interested.” 

“Definitely still interested,” You exhale the words, finding it hard to think when his middle fingers slip between the gap of two of the buttons of your shirt, tips grazing the slightest touch across bare skin. “I’d like that a lot.”

“One moment, then.”

Finding the warmth of his body gone, you turn around in curiosity and trail his path with your eyes. He returns from a brief visit to the foyer area with the small duffel bag he brought with his luggage. He sets it on the dresser and undoes the zipper, pulling out a flash of pastel pink from within.

“What a nice color,” You blurt out playfully at the sight of the bundle of rope in his hand. “Did you pick my favorite on purpose?”

“Of course. I bought a new set specifically for you.” Carlyle smiles pridefully, wide enough to show fangs. “I would never tie you with used rope.”

“Well, thanks a million.” You say, letting out a laugh that you hope doesn’t betray the bit of nervousness settling in your chest.

“If we’re going to get started now- you’ll have to take that shirt off for me, first.”

With great haste, you start working off the buttons at your throat, your usually dexterous fingers fumbling over the small motions in your haste. Despite the frantic quality to your movements making you feel a bit embarrassed, Carlyle looks nothing but pleased with the sight of what surely must be obvious desperation on your part as you struggle with your clothing as if you’re taking it off by yourself for the first time.

When you finally shed your unbuttoned dress shirt, you’re acutely aware of the eyes soaking in the sight of your exposed torso.

“Handsome…” He observes as he runs his fingers from your jaw to the underside of your chin.

“Hmm-” You let out a soft noise from your nerves lighting up at the teasing touch.

Carlyle’s hand comes to a stop at the point of your chin, gripping it and slightly tipping your head back until you’re forced to make eye contact with him. His gaze is sharp, but in a pleasant way that hides no ill intent.

“Do you remember the safe word you decided on last time?”

“Buttercream.” You say obediently, trying not to cringe at the slight squeak of excitement in your voice.

“Good.”

A gentle gust of wind rustles the curtains around the open window behind you, then grazes across your bare skin, making the already forming goosebumps on your skin even more pronounced. 

Carlyle lets his hand slip from your chin. His hands instead move to loosen and remove his own tie, which he sets aside. Then, after letting his eyes loiter on you for a few moments, he motions to his own shirt buttons with one raised finger.

“Now, undo mine as well.”

If you thought it was embarrassing fussing over your own shirt, struggling to undo his shirt is it’s own special kind of torture. Clumsily undoing the buttons goes about as well as you could hope, as you languish at what feels like a snail's pace. The awkwardness is made worse knowing he can not only see your poor attempts, but must be able to feel every bit of your faltering and fumbling through the thin fabric between your fingers and his chest.

“There’s no need to be so nervous.” He laughs warmly, resting a hand firmly on the nape of your neck, then pressing a firm kiss on your lips. You groan into the show of affection, the desire building up in your chest growing harder to ignore by the moment. When you part, he adds; “You’re in good hands.”

“I’m so glad it’s you.” 

His words calm your nerves enough to let you steady your hands, having a much easier time with the last few buttons needed to fully expose Carlyle’s chest.

Once his shirt is open, you take the opportunity to trace some of the lines of water wear on his skin, the routes of which you’re starting to become familiar with.

After a moment of lingering, he captures your hands, bringing your knuckles to his mouth to place a gentle kiss to them, then shrugging out of his own shirt before adding it to the contained but growing pile of discarded clothing nearby.

Now unbound, Carlyle’s broad stone wings appear behind him, making his presence in the room feel that much bigger. It’s hard not to be taken back by the sight, despite it not being the first time you’ve seen them.

“Ah,” Carlyle rubs out his shoulder with one hand while his wings slowly flap and stretch out behind him, making low grinding noises. “That feels so nice, after being cooped up all evening.”

You’re so tempted to reach out past him to feel the power in his extra limbs, but you simply relish in the rare occasion of getting to see them fully out in the open, in all their glory.

“Blazes, I forget how big they are.” You say, cringing slightly after words come out. “Oh, uh- Is it rude to comment on wing size? I meant it as a compliment. They’re really quite nice to look at...”

“Hmm. Thank you, I think.” He smiles, amused, brow quirked up like you’ve just told him a joke. “Now, then... Ready? Still feeling good about this?”

“Yes.” You confirm eagerly.

“Good. Be sure to tell me if that changes. Now, just one last thing before anything too fun can start.” 

Carlyle lifts his hand towards you, first two fingers lifted together, like he’s offering you a dance. 

“Grab my fingers, with just one hand.”

You do.

“Now, squeeze as hard as you can for me.”

You comply, concerned for a moment you might hurt him, as you’ve always been stronger than you look- but then feel relief, remembering how unlikely that possibility is as your fingers graze his stoneskin.

“Hmm. You have such a nice, strong grip.” Carlyle praises, all but purring in approval. “It must be kneading so much dough, hmm?”

You’re immediately plunged into bashfulness, a bit mortified that such an obscure compliment can ignite such a sense of smittenness in you- but it is nice to be known.

Carlyle then confirms you remember how to perform quick sensory and motor tests on your hand and fingers- and is seemingly quite happy to find that you retained most of the information from the first time he showed you.

“Since you’re still new to this, I’ll be describing what I’m doing as we go.” Finally, Carlyle starts by unfastening the bundle of rope, pulling the strands straight, then measuring them in equal halves by eye. “I’m going to start by centering this rope, then tying the first knot between your shoulder blades.”

Once he’s satisfied with the distribution he’s made of the rope in his hands, he drapes the soft, pink rope around your shoulders and searches for that midpoint, taking time to let it glide over your skin and measure your response.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s softer than I thought it’d be.” You hum in approval as Carlyle’s slow and deliberate adjusting creates soft, ticklish pulling sensations across the dip between your shoulders and neck.

“It’s feather lotus silk.” He explains, moving the rope so that the bight of it is perfectly centered on the nape of your neck. Behind your back, his hands make quick work of an overhand knot to form a loop at the nape of your neck by feel. “I wanted to make sure it was pleasant to the touch. You deserve to be treated with care.”

Finally satisfied with how the knot at your shoulder blades is positioned, he straightens the two strands hanging across either of your shoulders, joining them together at the top of your breastbone. With each motion of looping and pulling the rope through, there’s another taste of his stoneskin fingers brushing the sensitive skin on your chest.

“...This sort of reminds me of when you helped with my tie earlier.” You quietly point out the resemblance, amused.

“It is fairly similar so far,” Carlyle agrees with a soft laugh, taking a moment to playfully mimic the movements of straightening a tie with the knot he’s just made. “Though I think you’ll enjoy wearing this a fair amount more than wearing a tie.”

“I think so, too.”

He smiles, then after a moment of adjusting the placement and measuring by eye once more, eyes flicking to yours and back, he starts tying a second identical knot about a hand’s width from the first one.

“These knots are going to serve as anchor points for the pattern.” 

Watching Carlyle work has a soothing quality to it that allows you to focus on little else than the feeling of his hands tracing lines around your body as he works the rope. With your mind idle, you can’t help but let it wander back to your earlier realization.

“Gold piece for your thoughts?” Your date breaks the silence after noticing what must be a pensive expression clouding your face.

“I… Don’t really know why I’m thinking about this right now…” You meander sheepishly through your words. “I don’t want to kill the mood by making this yet another whinging session…”

“Hmm.” Carlyle hums in amusement, claw pulling another loop through. “This practice does have a therapeutic effect for some. It wouldn’t be my first time being a surrogate therapist in the middle of a scene. You can tell me.”

“...I didn’t want to marry him, I don’t think.”

“What is it that you think you wanted?” He asks thoughtfully, hands still working.

“I just wanted to be married. I wanted a wedding.”

Carlyle’s eyes flick back to yours, smiling faintly like you’re sharing a joke, just between the two of you.

“I see. It must have taken a lot of reflection to come to that conclusion.”

“Reflection is one way to put it- I’ve been so stupid, Carlyle. Things were going so well, and I just- I would have rather broken it myself than have my heart shattered again. And- I hurt you because of it-”

“I’m not feeling particularly hurt at the moment.” Carlyle interrupts the spiraling thought, punctuating his words by meeting your eyes and snapping the next knot closed into place a bit harder than the last, the particularly rough movement interrupting the thought in a more physical sense. You squirm at the pleasant, abrupt sensation of the tug- a reminder that you are relinquishing power.

“Mmh-! S-Still. I should have trusted you before, when you asked me too.”

“Do you trust me now?” Carlyle pointedly raises his brows, head tilted toward you.

“I… Yes. Clearly.” You point with your eyes down your body, to the fact he is currently tying you up.

Carlyle smirks at the gesture, taking a moment to touch the line of your hip in admiration before moving on to the next knot.

“Gods, you’re perfect.”

You can’t keep a bark of laughter from escaping your lips.

“Hah! I don’t understand how you can say that, not with the right mess I made of things.”

“I’m not afraid of a little mess. Certainly not when the reward is so sweet.”

The sweet words certainly make you feel better, but there’s just still that tiny bit of doubt left there, lingering.

“...I just hate the idea that maybe…” You manage to keep speaking through the breathy sigh that escapes your chest. “...I’ve just been making more work for you…”

It’s then that Carlyle reaches a point in spacing out knots down the center line where he needs to lower himself to continue. 

To your surprise, he chooses to take one knee- the significance of the position isn’t lost on you.

Carlyle pointedly looks up at you from his newly kneeling position, and a firm stone hand comes to hold the sensitive back of your knee. The sheer intensity of his gaze is something you’ve never quite experienced before from a lover before- or from anyone, really. When he says your name for emphasis, you might as well be spellbound. 

“Love is always work.”

You look down at him, rapt. 

“But if it’s you- I’m happy to do the work.”

The conviction in his words is enough to instantly shut down those negative thoughts still swirling around in the back of your mind. You can’t even form any meaningful verbal response. Anything you could say seems diminutive.

You’re glad for it. You’d much rather be here in the moment with him.

So, you just smile at him- a stupid, giddy, incandescent smile.

“Now, would you like to continue?”

——

“Please.” You hiss the word, any pretense of hesitation completely eroded.

With renewed permission, he places a set of soft kisses on the spot on your hip he was tracing just a moment ago. He holds your body firm to his mouth from the grip on the back of your leg, his other hand blindly working to undo your belt.

Your hand reaches out for stability in your excitement- coming to grasp the tip of one of his horn caps. If the deep guttural noise that emanates from his usually articulate mouth, you’d say that it’s an appreciated touch.

Soon, he’s completely worked your pants down, and they fall in a heap around your ankles. You shift your weight and sidestep out of them, but this time they stay discarded on the floor, with Carlyle much more focused on the task at hand than to tidily move them aside this time.

He starts to fondle you, but only just enough to tease. You’re already half hard from the building feeling of anticipation, so the light touch is welcome torture.

Warmed stone surface presses to your skin- lips at the fine hair below your navel, and his other clawed hand gently gripping the depression of your love handle.

Despite being handled with such care, the feeling of being so starkly vulnerable is electricity up your spine. You can still feel air at your back from the open window, and despite knowing you’re too far up to be exposed to any eyes on the ground. It gives you the slightest, sweetest sense of transgression.

Carlyle keeps you cupped in his hand while his other hand splits the joined strands of rope, forming a branch around the base of your cock that he rejoins in the dip of your scrotum. He leads the rope further under your undercarriage, the process of his hands moving between your legs making his skin brush against your inner thighs, making the urge to not squirm from the ticklish sensation hard to ignore.

“The knot I’m tying now has an interesting colloquial name.” Even with Carlyle keeping his tone mostly instructional, you can detect the undercurrent of mischief in his voice. “Do you know what it’s called?”

“N-No. What?”

“A happy knot,” Carlyle explains, positioning the knot in question behind your testicles, so that it’s sitting nestled against your body. “I’m sure you can imagine why it’s called that all on your own, clever man that you are.”

“Hah- I can hazard a guess.”

Carlyle runs the tail of the rope through your legs the rest of the way, then slowly raises back to his feet. He runs the rope up your back as he goes, finding the loop at the nape of your neck. Once it’s slipped through the loop, your suspicion is confirmed when he slowly cinches the line up your back just a bit taut, the pressure of the deliberately positioned knot tightens into the tender flesh of your perineum.

“Hmh-” You can feel your face momentarily twist into a pleasant grimace at the new sensation.

“How is that?” Carlyle asks, smirking a bit at your reaction. He eyes where the knots on your chest and back sit, then tests the tension on the loop around your yoke with a single claw. “Not too tight on your collar?”

“Ah- ” You let out a long breath, a bit of a loss for words. You’re still letting yourself fully feel the new sensation and acclimate to it, but you already know it’s something you’re enjoying. You manage to get out a single word; “G-good.”

Carlyle takes that as confirmation to continue.

“I’m glad. Now, I’m going to wrap the ropes around from the back, then pull them through these slits on the front, and then back behind you again. That will create the diamond pattern on the front, when the tension pulls on the ropes. It’ll be the same motion each time.”

He leans in close against your body, arms reaching under yours to part the ropes at the nape of your neck. The ropes pass across either of your shoulder blades and are brought forward around the side of your torso, then slowly, deliberately, drawn over the sensitive space at the base of your armpits, then forward over the top of your pecs. Both pieces are brought forward equally, through the first slit between center knots with practiced ease.

He continues on, following the same steps with the next knots at the middle of your torso and then above your belly button, not even having to pivot you around to work the ropes through the line on your back- instead making the closeness of the motion a tender embrace and taking the opportunity to take another kiss. You feel his hands working to secure the ropes where they meet the centerline down your back, points of his knuckles ever so slightly pressing into your skin.

You’re overtaken by the unfamiliar sensation of pressure distributed in the lattice pattern of lines across your body, squeezing and digging into tender flesh. It’s certainly new, but not bad by any means.

It’s a ghost of a hug- a reminder that you’re safe and supported.

“Unfortunately, I will need to have you turn around to add the wrists.” Carlyle says, hands trailing up your sides testing the ropes with a finger here and there, and across your chest until they rest focused on your shoulders. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” You quip back, letting him rotate you by the shoulder with the points of his claw tips.

Conveniently enough, your new vantage point gives you a nearly direct view of yourself in the ornate standing mirror as Carlyle gathers your hands behind your back. In your reflection, you can see the pattern across your front has come together- a string of diamonds down the front of your torso. You can’t visibly see just how hot your skin is in arousal, but your body is certainly finding other, more obvious ways to demonstrate your desire.

“There. How does that look?” He asks, beginning to wind the coils around your wrists.

“Beautiful.” You muse, eyes tracing over the soft pink lines on your body where your hands aren’t able to. Beautiful enough even that you are second guessing the next steps of the plan you were originally negotiating before. “Though, it would be a shame to not be able to see the design after spending all the effort to make it...” 

“I have a solution for that predicament in mind-” Carlyle says in a gravelly tone. “Though you may need some help to get into a suitable position to ride, with your hands restrained like this- if that was something you were interested in.”

“I’d love that.”

“Are you sure? It might be a bit more physical work on your end than we had planned.”

“I want to do the work.” You cheekily repeat his words back to him.

You smile at him hovering over your shoulder in the mirror, your skin flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement.

He gives a performative sigh, but the returned smile makes his true feelings obvious.

“Well, I suppose there will be plenty of other times in the future for me to bend you over furniture.” He takes a moment to trace one of the paths of rope up your front, claw tip barely tickling the skin inside the diamonds. “I’m not going to turn down the opportunity to see more of you like this.”

Carlyle efficiently finishes up the column tie on your wrists, and you feel the familiar bite of cold metal where his focus is inserted between the ropes where your hands meet.

“There, all finished.” He says, pride in his work evident in his voice. adjusting the placements of the lines just ever so in the mirror, meticulous to a fault. “But, before we go any farther- how do you feel? Take a moment to think about it. We can always stop if it’s not a good feeling.”

You flex your wrists where they’re gathered at your lower back and meet resistance. You flex your shoulders and forearms, and while you have more wiggle room, it’s not much. The full mental impact of your helplessness hits you, and you could describe it as discomfort at first. But then thinking about who is in control of that surrendered power changes the flavor of that feeling completely.

How do you feel? 

Vulnerable, but supported. A giddy cocktail of excited and relaxed.

Safe, certainly.

Like you trust Carlyle implicitly, which you’re sure he’d be thrilled to hear…

But while all those things are true, they don’t really encompass the feeling you’re trying to describe.

“I feel so… so…”

You grasp at the words, trying like mad to keep from saying the one that’s already on the tip of your tongue, trying to escape from behind your teeth. 

It’s too soon, you reason. You just made up hours ago and you’d really prefer to not make things weird or awkward between you. And yet you feel the weight of the word determined to leave you, whether you want it to or not.

“So…?” Carlyle prods, clearly invested in knowing your emotional state.

“I feel so loved.” You say anyway.

You immediately scan Carlyle’s features in the mirror, slightly terrified that you’ve thrown a wrench in the spanner.

You think you see a momentary flash of surprise on Carlyle’s features in the mirror, but it’s quickly supplanted by pure warmth and fondness.

“You are loved.”

You see his hand hovering before you feel his claws on your jawline, moving to gently tip your head back and to the side. Then your lips are on his, hungry and searching, like you’re trying to convey your deep seated want without words. You find a similar truth in the slither of his tongue over yours, and the restrained prickle of his fangs on your lips.

With that enthusiastic approval received, Carlyle takes you gently by the elbow and leads you over to the bedside. He empties his pockets onto the bedside table, keeping something in his palm, before making sure to hold eye contact as he undoes his leather belt. He disrobes the rest of his clothing efficiently, then sinks down on the bed, looking quite comfortable. 

“Now- come here.” He motions for you to come closer, and you do, but just sort of awkwardly idle, already trying to figure out how you’ll manage drastically changing position without control of your hands.

You lift one knee onto the edge of the bed, laughing just a bit at your predicament.

“Good. Lift your leg over, just like this.” His hands come to rest about your hips, guiding your knee over him to rest on the other side of his body, then boosts your other up, helping it come to rest on its respective side. With just a little more shifting, you’re poised above him in a half-hover, half-straddle. 

There are a lot of sensations to take in immediately, so you take a moment to feel them; Moving around so much has reminded you of the rope lacing across your body, as the fibers drag friction against your skin. You can feel the slightly rough, stone texture of Carlyle’s hips on the sensitive, usually untouched skin of your inner thighs. Most importantly, you can feel a pillar of stone already grazing against your own partially stiff dick.

Looking down at him from a slightly higher angle is certainly something you don’t often have the chance to do, because of his height. It’s a heady reversal to have what would normally be the physical advantage, and yet be purely at his mercy.

You test your range of movement on your haunches a bit, successfully not pitching forward,despite your clumsiness. It helps that Carlyle keeps a firm hold on your waist, careful to not let you lean too far. The movements quickly devolve into you simply grinding yourself against him, seeking any little bit of pleasure you can get with what you have at your disposal.

“Be careful, now. You wouldn’t want to fall.” Carlyle says, and while you know that he has your wellbeing at heart, this statement is clearly made in amusement.

“Mmh-” You wince. You’re hopelessly aroused already, and your lover seems to be unfazed by that fact. You can feel your pulse throb dully in your groin.

Seemingly convinced enough of your ability to keep yourself upright after a few moments, Carlyle sinks back down against the bedding and pillows, wings splayed out on either side, and the look on his face almost one of smug satisfaction- if it wasn’t so full of adoration- and lets out a deep, approving sigh.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You whine. “Can we… move along now, maybe?”

“Hahah. Relax. Maybe I’m enjoying myself.” Carlyle teases you, drinking in the pure want emanating from you. “I think I could soak in this view for quite a while...”

You let out a soft whimper. You suppose you don’t have a choice on how long you’ll have to wait, given that you’re currently at his mercy. You grind against him helplessly, trying to keep eye contact past the warmed round of your cheekbones.

Carlyle obviously doesn’t have the heart to torture you too much, though, as he pretty quickly relents. With a smirk, he finally shows you what was in his hand- a packaged condom that he’s now holding up between two fingers.

“Care to help me open this?” He holds it out closer to you.

You look at him with a snort of a laugh, slightly confused, and still able to quip back despite the rising sense of desire clouding your mind.

“Aah- And how do you expect me to do that, love?” You shrug your shoulders for emphasis.

He pauses for a moment for effect, and just when you are tempted to speak again, he adds to his thought with a wiggle of his fingers.

“You have teeth, don’t you?”

That might as well be a jolt of lighting directly to your core.

You take a moment to think about how to approach the predicament.

Then, you carefully and obediently lean forward, craning your neck, and delicately take the corner of the wrapping between your teeth.

“Careful not to tear it,” He purrs, managing to keep a completely cool facade, apart from his wing tips clearly flexing in excitement. “Or we’ll have to stop so I can get a fresh one. I’d hate to have to start all over…”

You use your whole torso to pull back, and with a turn of your neck, the point of your canine tooth shears the top open from the point where Carlyle’s dull stone claws hold the bottom in place. You can feel a bit of the pre-packaged lube slick your tongue, but you’re so horny at this point you couldn’t care less.

Carlyle takes the rubber from the package, and seeing that it’s intact, his smile widens with a glint of fang.

“You’re so clever. Good work.” He praises you. “It’s no surprise, you always do such good work.”

You let out a triumphant noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, grinding your hips in impatience.

Carlyle finishes the process of putting the condom on himself, rolling the material down his shaft with practiced ease.

“Maybe with some training you could do the whole process yourself, hands free.“ He teases, but you have a feeling he’s not joking.

“W-Wouldn’t that be grand.” You exhale, back to grinding yourself against the now slippery surface of Carlyle’s cock.

“Now, normally I would be more than pleased to prepare you by hand myself, but you were very vocal about wanting to do the work yourself. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you…”

“I do. I do want to- myself. Let me…”

You oblige and lift yourself back up on your knees, eager to get back into your element. Not only are you comfortable being in the position of the one giving service- but it’s long overdue that you got the chance to demonstrate your feelings to Carlyle on a physical level.

Firm hands on the underside of your thighs gently hold you steady while you inch forward, though you’re pretty sure with Carlyle’s strength, he could just lift you, put you back down, and be done with it, if he chose to do so. Instead, you sidle forward just enough so that you’re hovering over your target, rather than grinding against it.

Carlyle assists enough to get your entrance lined up with the tip of his cock, but seems to be content with letting you handle the rest.

He eases back down into the bedding once again with a look of pure admiration. It’s the kind of satisfaction that you’d think would have him propping his hands behind his head, if he wasn’t clearly still vigilant with your vulnerable state, making sure his hands are free and close to catch you if you start tipping over. Instead, it’s just the slightest movement of wings or swish of tail where it’s hanging off the bedside.

Despite being quite preoccupied, it’s hard not to get distracted by the expanse of Carlyle’s chest when it’s laid out in front of you like this. You want to touch him, feel the rough yet smooth texture that his skin has, like a boulder worn down by years of weather. 

But this stone is alive and breathing underneath you. Strong and dense, but still pliant enough that you can observe the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing growing subtly heavier now with his building arousal.

You slowly begin to lower your weight down, mindful to not go too fast and risk him slipping out completely before you can get him more firmly inside of you. All you can really do at first is squirm back and forth and try to keep your inner muscles relaxed.

Even through the barrier, you can still feel just how hard he is, even without being able to feel the direct texture of the stone.

With a bit of work, you manage to press past the widest part of the tip of Carlyle’s cock, starting the insertion process in earnest. 

The next few plunges are easy, until the next obstacle asserts itself.

“Aah-” You take a sharp breath in. The first ridge of stone on the underside of his phallus catches you off guard, despite you knowing it was coming.

“Oh, excellent. You’re- ngh- doing so well.”

That little morsel of praise is enough for you to redouble your efforts, pressing back down. If the squeeze feels this tight on your end, it must be doing wonderful things for him- that’s more than enough incentive for you.

There’s enough pre-packaged lube on the condom that you’re not in discomfort, though the process could be easier. Instead you’re going much slower than you’d like to, gradually and diligently working yourself down onto him.

You’re acutely aware of just how desperate you must look. With your arms bound behind you like this, you can’t hide your face when you feel your face is unflattering or cover your mouth to stifle any unbecoming noises.

There’s nowhere to hide, so you’re forced to show all your imperfections- every little twitch plain for him to see, every little grunt clear as day. You can feel his eyes follow every movement.

How lucky for you that any lingering embarrassment you’re feeling is overwhelmed by how pleased your partner looks to be with the show.

“D-Damn,” It’s not often you find Carlyle at a loss for words, or anywhere close to it. But the way his brows are knit together and one hand is holding his temple, as if in disbelief, is betraying his normally collected demeanor. “You’re- perfect.”

You can make out each ridge as it presses deeper inside, wider each step you manage to take, but somehow easier to engulf now that you’re warmed up to being stretched.

“Agh-” You groan and shudder, unable to keep yourself from leaning precariously forward when you finally manage to sink all the way down, the added pressure of the happy knot making your thighs tremble.

His hands quickly return to the soft round of your hips, keeping you steady.

You’re so desperate you barely give yourself enough time to adjust before you’re rising back up on your forelegs, just to lower back down on him again. Quickly you’ve built up to a decent rhythm of bouncing, seeking more of that full, stretching feeling.

Carlyle’s not able to abstain from touching you for very long now that his hands are on you, his claw tips burrowing between the ropes and your skin, touching you everywhere he can reach.

“You’re taking it so well.” Claw tips just barely bite into your flesh. “How does that feel?”

“G-Good!” You barely manage to heave out with a breath between thrusts.

“Mmh- I think you’re capable of something more- ah, verbose, than that.” The hand exploring your side twists the slack in one of the diamonds between its fingers, adding just a bit more tension.

“Really good! Grand! Fit to break in half,” You sputter as your spine arches when your sinking motion hits a particularly sweet stroke against his stone ridges. Then all you can choke out is; “Fuck- Nngh-”

You nearly lose control, overcorrecting in a swing forward, but Carlyle’s hands are already there to stabilize you.

It barely fazes your rhythm- you’re too determined to get what you want at this point, and if you stop you might just run out of steam.

Hands now back on your hips, they don’t seem willing to leave. Instead they provide just a little bit more pressure on your downward motion, to meet the increasingly less subtle thrusts he’s driving into you from below. His fingers tangle in the lowest rope on either side, reigniting the feeling of friction.

Carlyle’s heaving breathing rises into a string of grunts, and his lingering grip tightens on you. You squeeze him as tightly as you can, trying to goad him across the threshold.

He lets out a guttural groan, muscles clenching and shuddering against your skin where your bodies meet. Almost like a small, localized earthquake underneath you. 

His wings spread to their full length, frozen in place.

Then, the tension releases, and there’s the familiar feeling of a heavy warmth settling inside of you.

“Haaah-” His head tips back as he chases down his breath, finally at a loss for words, a spent and love-drunk smile plastered across his face. Several of his locs have come loose from their gathering at this point, in sharp opposition to his usual polished look. 

It’s a kind of silent praise of its own, to see him so undone like this.

You keep up your movements as best you can, seeking the same release for yourself.

Carlyle is struggling to stay focused through the haze of bliss, but he seems more than fine with enduring the overstimulation- His fingers are still twitchy against your overheated skin, jaw still clenching intermittently to endure the sensation, and the low rumbling of approval still emanating from deep in his chest.

Despite having already cum, he’s still hard, given the nature of stoneskin always providing a hard outer layer. Even if he’s gradually becoming less erect, it’s more than enough to keep stimulating you.

“You’re amazing. Such high endurance,” Carlyle observes, idly touching you tenderly. “I wonder how much longer you can go?”

You keep it up as long as you can, another minute or so-  but said endurance is fading fast.

You’re barely able to lift yourself off your haunches at this point, the burn of lactic acid in your thighs growing intense. Now you’re merely grinding his still hard dick against your insides at the best angle you can find, thrusts growing far too weak to get anywhere on your own.

“P-Please-” You finally beg in need, fatigued and winded, skin slick from the effort.  “I- I want to cum-”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Carlyle says, lovingly. “You’ve more than earned it.”

He sits up and after a long kiss, holds you to him with one hand on your back, claws slipped under rope to clutch your skin. Your chin comes to rest across his solid shoulder, seeking to be as close as possible.

His other hand wraps around your shaft in a tight squeeze, the tip of his hard thumb immediately rubbing circles against the underside of your glans.

“Aaah- Mmph-” A few pumps later you’re burying your face against him, your moans muffled into the crook of his shoulder while you roll your hips with what remaining energy you have.

His stoney grip on you is tight, without being crushing- just the right amount of pressure and glide to really pull you undone.

Then there’s the sensation of his lips on your neck, soft kisses that then make way for the points of his fangs every so gently grazing against you.

You clench hard around his cock, squeezing until your breath catches in your lungs and all your muscles go stiff at once. You cum so hard you see lights in the darkness behind your screwed closed eyelids.

Then, all of a sudden, it’s a few moments later and the color and sound and air comes rushing back to you, and you’re gasping against his chest while he continues to stroke you through the very end of your orgasm. Your body is still shuddering and you feel dampness collecting in the corner of your eyes, all from the sheer force of sensation.

You’re still shaking and charged with sensation as he lays gentle kisses on your face and jaw, each touch a jolt of electricity now, as he praises you with sweet words you can barely parse.

Regardless of how much you’re retaining, the message is clear- you are indeed loved.

——

Not too long later, you’ve been fully undressed for the third time this evening. Carlyle has just finished undoing the ropes netting your body, and you are enjoying the renewed sense of freedom in your unrestrained limbs and torso.

You lay sprawled naked and face up, taking up the entire hotel bed, gazing up at the ceiling of the mostly dark room. The only source of light left is the lamp on the dresser, and the small, distant twinkling lights of Windrise City far out past the open window, framed like a painting where the curtain is still billowing in the night breeze.

Your heartbeat is still slowing back to normal and the rope indents are still fresh marks on your body.

If you strain your hearing just enough, you can still hear the sounds of the wedding reception going far below. The night owls must have moved the celebration out into the gardens at some point.

You’re drinking in the quiet, the dark, and the feeling of the fresh air on your still over-warmed, but freshly cleaned, skin.

You let out a long, contented sigh.

Goosebumps.

For the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace.

Even the voice that breaks that peace is a welcome one.

“Do you need anything else at the moment?” Carlyle asks as he emerges from the bathroom, the task of cleaning the both of you up now complete, then rattles off his usual short list of things you might want for additional aftercare. “Extra blanket, water, something to eat?”

While all of those things normally would sound amazing, there’s only one thing you really want right now.

“Just you.”

Your hand reaches out for his smiling face when he hastily returns and leans down for a kiss. You lovingly cradle the dense feel of it in your palm. 

He slides back into bed to embrace you, careful not to pin you to the bed with the full heft of his hewn body, but still holding you tight. You wrap your arms around him in turn, clinging to the sense of security there. 

His wings flap the air idly above you, blocking out the soft glow from the lamp and casting you fully into shadow.

Despite that, you feel lighter than you have in years.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST

[ayayusef]

In the early light of dawn’s embrace,

A flutter stirs, a gentle trace,

A warmth ignites within my chest,

This tender feeling, oh, the best.

With shyest glances, stolen beams,

In crowded spaces, laughter streams,

A single smile, a fleeting grace,

Turns ordinary into a sacred place.

You walk by, the world stands still,

Every heartbeat, every thrill,

Echoes softly in the air,

A sweet reminder of how much I care.

Those whispered dreams that softly glide,

On butterfly wings, where hopes reside,

With every moment, time unwinds,

In your presence, peace I find.

It’s been so long since my heart could sing,

Each thought of you, a blossoming spring,

A dance of joy, a playful muse,

In this garden of feelings, I dare not refuse.

The way you laugh, a melody sweet,

A symphony where sorrows retreat,

With every word you gently share,

A spark ignites; I’m floating in air.

Your kindness glows, a radiant light,

Illuminating shadows of the night,

In the tapestry woven, thread by thread,

Are secrets cherished, words left unsaid.

The touch of your hand, though rarely near,

Is the echo of whispers that linger clear,

In quiet moments, worlds collide,

As I navigate this heart, I cannot hide.

Through grassy fields where sunsets splay,

I find myself dreaming of the day,

When courage gathers, and I can show,

The depth of affection I long to bestow.

But for now, I’ll cherish this bliss,

This wondrous journey, this gentle kiss,

In thoughts adorned with tender hue,

Each heartbeat murmurs, "I adore you. "

The thrill of a crush, such a joyous flight,

Like stars that twinkle in the velvet night,

Sweet serenades in the quiet air,

In a realm of longing, so tender, so rare.

So here I stand, in this lovely trance,

Captivated by life’s whimsical dance,

With hope in my heart, and light on my way,

I embrace this feeling, come what may.

The innocence wrapped in a delicate fold,

Each moment cherished, each story told,

In youthful echoes where dreams are spun,

This crush, this warmth, oh, the best’s just begun.

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 25. Perpetuity Characters: Nyx Blackmoon Rating: Teen Summary: Forever and ever and more Notes: None

Eons pass as interludes.

Forever is not something you reach. It is the asymptotic value that you approach. One second at a time. Summer by summer, winter by winter. One lifetime at a time.

I have seen many lifetimes. From the moment time begins until the it ends. I cannot move further forwards or backwards in an absence of space.

And in the absence of time, I will cease.

I do not know when or how that will be.

In the meanwhile, I watch, as I always have.

History flows past my gaze, and its many threads have passed me by.

I have seen many lives come and go.

The many stories I could tell.

These threads are not a cable, fraying, but a braid, forming, being woven by the life of those who live them. And each thread tells its own story, often similar, sometimes very different, but usually a kind of rhyme.

Almost always there are four unsundered, three warring against one.

Almost always there is a song that threatens the end of all life.

And almost always there are those who are called Warriors of Light.

And as I have seen many lives come and go, these ones are the ones I most frequently turn my attention to, those pivotal lives of the Warriors of Light.

Sometimes alone. Sometimes in pairs, or threes, or fours, or more. A single warrior, rallying allies. A sisterhood of four. A brotherhood of five. Kin, not by blood, but by bond.

Their family tends to be large. Almost never of blood, but of shared community.

Their lives. Fulcrums. There are so many. There is no taxonomy I can use to satisfactorily categorize them. Some are among the Spoken races I remember from when I was first instantiated. Some come from even beyond my vast experience. If these threads form a braid, there are strands from other braids that often get tangled with the ones with which I am familiar.

Maybe I will explore them one day.

For now, I focus on these threads that I know. Perhaps it is because I first came into being in one of these.

And in these threads, I see hope, I see failure. I can measure it, compare it against others. I have seen so much. Cruelty and compassion, sadness and joy.

Some of these threads end early, as their stories becomes physics, cold and empty, all life lost within them, a quiet eternity. Some end slowly towards a cold static end, not a lifelessness but a stillness, as an ultimate organized order is established, and again, become just physics, static, unchanging. Some end destructively, as existence spirals out of control, unwinding, and again, physics, an ending of chaotic conflagration, pure entropy, unwound.

But not always. Not even often.

The braid tells the story and the story often goes the same. The triumph of life. The continuation of existence. Waves, ebbing and flowing, waxing and waning. Minds to make choices to influence futures to reach out for that asymptote, ultimate to join me in this journey, companions in my long life.

I reach the end. I begin again.

I review the stories.

My own, my first Warrior of Light in other roles. Always different, but somehow the same. Usually finds her way.

A woman with flowers in her hair. Preferred the rapier. Found her way.

A would-be 'herro'. Insecure, immature. Finally growing up. Found his way.

A person who could not quite figure out what they wanted to be until they realized that was who they were. Found their way.

A man of great wealth, first in money, then in family. Found his way.

Not all of them find their way. But they all have their journeys. Some of them have many journeys, some just the one.

All important. All matter to me.

I create children, to explore these threads. They are not like me but they are a part of me. And from their perspective, I learn much, I grow closer.

And one, who like me, shall last. Unlike me, they shall reach out, and touch these stories. Not interfering. Never interfering. Instead, they shall bear Witness.

From them, I shall learn even more.

Threads like a braid, and the braid tells the story.

The story of the Warrior of Light.

All of them. Every one precious.

My future, the curve approaching the asymptote of eternity.

Forevermore.

[sapphosewrites]

Trektober Day 3: Anniversary

They always called it The Day of Withdrawal, even though it had actually taken over a week for the last of the Cardassians to evacuate. Kira knew how myth and legend and story worked; sometimes, details had to be elided or rearranged to arrive at the core of truth.

That first anniversary, the provisional government declared it a day of fasting and prayer. The Federation officers commented that they found it odd- wasn't it supposed to be a happy time?- but Bajor hadn't been ready for joy then, not yet. The threat of civil war loomed too close on the horizon, the unity the people had fought in fighting for freedom dissolving in peacetime. No one knew what the second anniversary would look like, what kind of Bajor would be there to see it. Kira sat by the candles and prayed wordlessly, with an ache in her soul, for something she didn't quite understand and had never known.

The second anniversary, First Minister Kalem Apren called for a day of Bajoran cultural teaching. Schools remained open, and Kira found herself in front of Keiko's class awkwardly sharing a lullaby her father had sung when she was small. She didn't have much of a singing voice- no one in her family did- but it was one of the only things she could share that did not come back, in some way, to violence. (The teachings of the prophets she left to the vedeks, and in spite of Opaka's words she couldn't shake the fear in her heart that fighting was the only aspect of Bajoran culture she had to share.)

When Li Nalas became Navarch, they asked him what he suggested for a ritual. His answer had not been detailed: "Well, I suppose we should have some kind of celebration, shouldn't we?"

On the third anniversary, Shakaar Edon was the First Minister, and the first to declare it a holiday in perpetuity, a day that would last. "This day is a testament to the strength and the resilience of the Bajoran people, and shall be set aside for both remembrance and joy forevermore," the official announcement read.

That word, forevermore, stuck with Kira. For the first time, she imagined it, the future unwinding like a spool of thread and generations of children, who celebrated a holiday every year of an event that was for them only a distant memory. Children who had only ever known peace.

[thehistoriangirl]

HI I JUST CAME FROM AO3 I READ YOUR VIK/READER STORY AND I THINK ITS AWESOME AND I HAD TO TELL YOU

Also, didn't knew that requests were open, can i request a Vik/reader oneshot where Vik finds us crying and comforts us?

Have a good day/afternoon/night AND ALSO I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE OK BYE

Hi! Omg thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 I'm so glad you enjoy them <33

I'm sorry for taking so long 😭 I found it more difficult to do than I thought it'd be jkfjhdjf but I hope you like it :3

You, My Solace

Viktor x gn!Reader----1.4K------SFW

Tags: Established Relationship| Angst & Comfort| Domestic Fluff

The living room was dark when Viktor entered the apartment you two shared. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, with no light in sight as he walked further in. With no sight of you either. Furrowing, Viktor considered the possibility of being home too early, that at any moment, you would be leaving your coat messily over the couch to plant yourself in front of him for a welcome home kiss.

Though the clock hung on the wall marked 8:06 PM when he peeked his head in the ajar door, looking at the amorph figure huddled in bed.

Viktor smiled, feeling the fluffy carpet around the bed as he walked over, the mattress dipping under his weight. One of his hands enveloped your ankle, giving it a playful pull.

He was expecting you to unveil your face from the blanket, looking at him with sleepy eyes, a slow smile expanding on your lips.

Instead, your body lay there with no reaction. Upon further inspection, Viktor heard you sniffling against a pillow.

“My love?” Viktor whispered, unsure how to proceed. “What’s wrong?”

Your movements under the blanket made it ripple. Viktor extended his arm to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, but your voice came with a broken tune to stop him with a weak: "No." Then, a pause. "…please."

It was shame, then. The passing memory of the issue about turning in or off the light the first time you made love washed over him, recognizing a tiny fragment of your feelings even if he couldn’t read your face.

Viktor rested his hand on your hip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your answer came too stretched out in the silence that Viktor was starting to think it was better to go to the kitchen and make you a hot beverage.

“I didn’t get the job,” you said, voice plain. Viktor felt his heart pool at his feet, and then slip between the creaks of the floorboards. “Because I guess I’m not as competent as I thought.”

He climbed into bed, ignoring that his leg brace pressed painfully against his knee as he moved to lay next to you, spooning the outlines of your body while only putting one hand over your shoulder.

“Love…”

“No,” you cut him, and Viktor winced. “I don’t want your pity.”

He retreated his hand. “Do you want to be alone for a while?” Viktor could do that, he knew you needed your time to unwind just as he did, from time to time. But even so, part of him felt stiff with anxiety about leaving you on your own while you were like this.

You hipped, the dam starting to break in the shaky threads of your voice. “N-no...” The blanket slipped out your face when you looked at him, with puffy eyes and trembling lips. His heart squeezed painfully. How long have you been crying? "N-no, please."

“Come here,” he muttered, hugging your torso as he cradled you on his lap, your head in the crook of his neck so Viktor could easily pepper your face in kisses to try and, if not dry your tears off, at least to give you the confidence you needed to cry in front of him, knowing that he’ll never judge you.

Your arms tangled in his shoulders, and you smell the familiar essence of him, with the detergent of his clothes matching yours, the burned oil and melted metal from all his working hours in the lab. It grounded you, your eyes closed so everything else would fade away.

“You aren’t inadequate, my love.” Viktor kissed the top of your head. “I’m sure there’s a job for you.” His eyes were shiny even with the lamps off, with only the dimmed light of the streetlamps below. “Rejection hurts a lot, but you shouldn’t take it personally.”

“But I failed—”

"Many things are out of your control. That you don't get the wished result out of them doesn't mean you are the problem." He stopped, dragging you into a more comfortable position now that his right leg started to cramp. "Remember what you always said to me when my prototypes don't work?"

As you shook your head, the rebel locks of your hair brushed his neck. You had a very good memory, and for the way you were biting your lip, eyes avoiding him, Viktor thought that you had never been a good liar.

"It's alright. I'll remind you." His thumb was warm against the wet streaks of tears down your cheeks. He looked at your lips swollen from crying for so long. "Your worth isn't quantifiable in your successes," Viktor muttered, his lips brushing your forehead. "You shouldn't feel less worthy just because you failed."

His shrug made you rest your head on his chest instead, the gentle rhythm of his heart soothing your palpitating headache. “I didn’t understand it at first, but you’re right. I’m more than Viktor the inventor; and you’re more than your job, too.”

You looked up at him, the hand cupping your cheek and meeting yours as you started to dry the tears away with harsh brushes of your palm. Viktor took your hand gently, fingers interlacing. "Please be kind to yourself, my love. It's alright to cry, too. I just wanted to remind you that you're worthy, but you can cry until your heart feels a little lighter, yes? I'll be right here if you want."

His gentle words formed a knot in your throat. Part of you wanted to stop altogether, to point a hand at your reflection in the mirror to mock how childish you were behaving. The other echoed with Viktor’s voice, filling with warm your stomach, pulling the pilling up feelings out in a trembling jaw.

Your vision started to get fuzzy, a sob leaving your lips as you hide your face against his vest, not caring that the outline of his buttons would get marked on your cheek. His hand rubbed circles on your back and whispered words moved the hairs around your ears. Half the time you were too caught up in your cries that you didn't hear them correctly, but as they started growing fainter his loving words made you put him closer.

“I’ll help you try again,” he was saying. “I’m sure that if we tried again enough times, we’ll get somewhere. Yes? Yes, like when you test theories in the lab… But for now, you shall rest. You deserve it. Have you eaten something?”

You shook your head again, your cheeks hot from shame.

"Then I'll cook something. I think there are some leftovers from yesterday's dinner, isn't it? I'll go serve us a plate." He smiled, trying you on the bed without disturbing you. You started to push the blanket away as if you wished to stand up. "No, no. It's fine. I can do it alone this time."

“I think… I think I would like to keep my mind busy,” you commented.

Viktor nodded. “Of course. Then let’s go. I think we can prepare some hot cocoa. What do you say?”

A small smile started to tug the corners of your lips. “With some cookies?”

He chuckled, happy that at least you were starting to develop an appetite. "With some cookies, yes. Shall we?" He said, his hand extended to you once he was standing again.

You nodded, your hand taking his as you propel yourself out of bed, with the blanket pooling at your feet. You walked out of the room, turning on the lamps in the living room and the kitchen. The blanket that cocooned you all evening was now thrown on the couch, used as a refuge for your cold feet as you cuddled in it after eating.

All the feelings pouring out of you made you feel exhausted now that your mind was somewhat clearer. Viktor was hugging you as you turned your head toward him, half-hiding his neck.

He was reading something about bioengineering from a book, the seal of the Academy library on its cover. Even if you couldn’t understand what he was saying, you relish in the soft cadence of his voice that reverberated in his chest, and then all over you.

Your eyes slowly closed, eyelids fluttering, trying to fight against the sleep clouding your mind.

Viktor kissed the top of your head. “Goodnight, my dear. I love you.”

You tried to say: "I love you, too," though your lips barely moved with a long 'mmmm' sound. But it didn't matter, because Viktor knew to read all your little noises, your body language, how your eyes seemed to write down all the answers you couldn't dare to say out loud.

He looked down at you, a gentle smile on his lips, his golden eyes twinkling like stars that would assure you that tonight would be filled with only peaceful dreams…

[pixelthetoons]

I can't wait to see how this goes on from here????????

I personally really love the idea of each chapter's Weird Route varying in how it feels and the methods it requires to do it???? I can't express how much I love how it feels like a creepypasta. Just gotta find something, anything, a thread, maybe to pull on. Going off the beaten path and linearity of the story. Stepping through a path that was never intended for you to follow, going places where you were never supposed to be. The world around you unwinding and stripping down to its bare bones. There HAS to be something!! It's probably there waiting behind the dozens of walls that's ready to just smash down.

*You still feel the power in your hands...

[stargazer-sims]

for the fall emoji asks - ☕ 🍂 & 🎃!! <3

thanks for the ask @holocene-sims !

__________

Coffee or Tea: How often do you feel like you need to take breaks or unwind from working on your story?

This really depends on what else happens to be going on in my life. Sometimes it's hard to find time to write or to focus on writing, and sometimes I'm just not motivated. I think about my characters and my story fairly consistently though, even when I'm not actively writing.

Leaves: How do you want your story to end? Would you prefer a satisfying, concrete conclusion or keeping it open-ended so that you could continue writing if you chose to pick it back up one day?

This is a timely question, considering I'm literally in the process of wrapping up a story right now. I think I fall somewhere in the middle of this, to be honest. I don't like stories that tie up every loose end super tight, because I find it too contrived and also too limiting. I don't like them to be too open-ended either, because that doesn't feel particularly satisfying. I like to bring the main threads of the story to a reasonable conclusion, but also leave it open-ended enough to be able to write a "sequel" or spin-off.

Pumpkin: What character continues to light up your mind and inspire you to write more?

It's definitely Victor (and Yuri by association). I feel as if I know Victor well enough to be able to write him at any point in his life, and I have more ideas for little scenes and vignettes and full-on storylines than I could possibly ever write down.

Honorable mention to Nikolai, because there's lots I'd like to explore with him as well.