#i wanted to convey this through like 5 sentences but my hands slipped

[nothinghappned]

dongsik takes juwon home after jung cheolmun's death. stays with him with an excuse of "discussing plans" because he's very aware juwon is not fine and shouldn't be alone. juwon's hands are shaking, the usual bite from his answers is entirely absent and he's way too quiet. he offers to make some tea and there's some sluggishness in his movements.

dongsik waits. he already feels the impending trainwreck, but there's nothing he can do to stop it because han juwon is fine and he can make tea and he doesn't need help. so dongsik waits.

he waits until the train gets derailed by a tiny rock and crashes right into a wall, then erupts in flames a second later. the tiny rock in this scenario being a teapot, that tips over, it's deep red content spilling all over the floor and onto juwon's hand. the wall is a panic attack, that reaches juwon step by step. first, it's the pain that registers, he pulls his hand closer to his chest. then he sees his white rug stained with red and he takes a staggering step back. dongsik sees the exact moment his brain takes him back to jung cheolmun's house, because his remaining composure crumbles. his face falls just as fast as his breathing quickens and he's already far away.

dongsik does two things at the same time. he steps in front of juwon to block the tea-stained rug from his vision, and pulls his hands away from each other so he can't scratch on the already irritated skin. because juwon thinks there's blood on it and he needs the blood off.

then in a blur juwon is pushed backwards toward the kitchen, his hand placed under the stream of cold water. there are words said, calm and softly spoken. juwon rests his forehead on dongsik's shoulder, breathing together until his breathing eventually goes back to normal.

"are you back with me?"

"hm"

"okay" (...) "how's your hand? does it hurt?"

"a little"

dongsik then goes to find the first aid kit in the bathroom, but there's nothing in it for burn. going back out he finds juwon sitting on the floor right where they were standing seconds ago. "let's sit somewhere more comfortable, juwon-ah."

"I'll go to the shop right in the corner to see if they have anything for your hand, okay? do you want something else?"

"I'm okay here"

(...)

and that's how they end up eating a whole cake while sitting on the floor in the middle of juwon's kitchen. bickering about unimportant things, because juwon's fighting spirit came back (to dongsik's absolute delight) sometime after dongsik started to talk about how good raw ramen noodles are, and how he'll make sure juwon tries some later. then he went on about talking some more nonsense just so juwon can call him ridiculous and they can smile about it.

the tea from earlier needs to be cleaned up, and they'll need to go back talking about a plan soon, but juwon's smile needs a bit more working on. so there are still 4 slices of cake to be eaten, and about 5 ridiculous stories front dongsik to be told and listened to.

[foreverrogers]

caffeine and desk chairs

"Want me to help you relax some more?"

The response is already on the tip of his tongue before you finish asking, spills out of his mouth without missing a beat. "Please."

Pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

Summary: deadlines mean peter's had too much caffeine, and you have to convince him to take a break

Warnings: SMUT!!!! 18+!!!!!! cursing, mutual masturbation, absolute faintest breath of sub!peter if you squint, basically PWP, self-indulgent filth

Words: 1.5k

A/N: this fic is the product of me leaving all my uni work until the weekend and remedying this through iced coffee and fanfiction. hope you enjoy!

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It's 11pm, and Peter has too much energy.

He gets like this, sometimes, when he crams for exams or attempts to squeeze out a 3000-word essay in a night, gets halfway through and realises his brain is moving too quickly to think straight.

It tries to pour out of him unconsciously, pent up energy usually exerted on bad guys slowly building in the quick bounce of his knee under the desk, the compulsive clicking of his pen.

He sighs when he feels your hands on his shoulders, the gentle pressure trying to steady him, brings him a quiet moment of relief as he stretches his neck side to side to work out the stiffness in his posture.

"Don't s'ppose I can convince you to come to bed?"

You're bending down now; he can feel it in the way warm breath brushes against the back of his neck, a single kiss planted on his shoulder before your hand is slipping down his chest to rest over his heart.

You can feel the rapid pulse against your palm, the culmination of a looming deadline and his fifth cup of coffee.

"I've been reading the same sentence for 5 minutes," He says, not really answering the question, enough resigned frustration in his voice that you get the answer anyway.

Another kiss to his shoulder, this one meeting the bare skin beside the collar of his shirt. "You gotta take a break, Pete." And another, pressed to the crook of his neck, his instinctive reaction to the sensation to open himself up to your course, tilting his head to the side.

His eyes are still fixed to his screen even as lips glide over skin, his hand coming up to settle over yours. "I'm fine, really, I just need a couple hundred more-"

"Pete," You interrupt, tone firm but still light, careful to convey concern rather than anger. "You're practically vibrating. Just take ten minutes."

He forces his leg to stop moving then, hadn't realised how aggressively it had been bouncing, finally lets himself lean into your touch a little.

You can tell he's still not convinced, can see the unsure pinch of his eyebrows reflected in the dimmed screen of his laptop, and so you lean up until your lips brush the shell of his ear. "For me?"

He swivels around in his chair then, briefly breaks the contact of your arms around his chest, reaches for your waist when he meets you again and you let him pull you into his lap, can't help the smile that blooms across your face.

His hands are on you immediately, a new outlet for an overcharged body, urgency in the way he gropes at you, the way his mouth moves against yours, presses you flush against him.

You feel him finger the hem of your shirt, lift it up just an inch before your hands are slipping over his, bringing them up to settle over your hips. "Hey," You smile, pull away a little when he tries to catch your lips again, kiss him slow when you're satisfied with the calming of his movements. "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere."

"Sorry," He breathes, blushes into the faint smile he gives you. But he's already fidgeting again, one finger tapping a quick pattern against the dip of your waist.

"Don't be," You whisper, return his small smile, make sure to keep the kiss easy when your lips meet his again. "Just relax."

He takes a deep breath, and you move your hand back over his heart to feel his chest expand with it, feel him melt back into his chair with a steady exhale.

"There you go," You mutter against him, try not to break the kiss, quietly revel in your ability to turn him to putty under you with only the slightest of touches.

And, well— this had started out as an innocent attempt to get him to take a break, but now he's tightening his grip at your hip and you can feel him straining against his sweatpants as he presses into you and when he deepens the kiss you can't help but let him.

The hand on his chest starts to slip down, lingers over every ridge of muscle it can map over his clothed abdomen. And then you finally find the drawstring of his pants, and the feeling of your fingers hooking into his waistband is enough to make him gasp into your mouth in anticipation.

The reaction makes you smile, make a torturously slow show of pulling the knot loose. "Want me to help you relax some more?"

The response is already on the tip of his tongue before you finish asking, spills out of his mouth without missing a beat. "Please."

And then you're touching him, already hard, cock bobbing against his stomach as you stroke him soft and slow, and the next exhale he gives catches in his throat, turns into a whine that makes you clench around nothing.

He must notice the way you shift in his lap, moves his own hand down to cup your core, presses his palm firmly against your clit. "Can I touch you?"

You don't stop your movements when you pull away, fully intend on insisting on taking care of him, on helping him relax, on giving himself over to you, but suddenly the pressure is too good and the look in his eye is too desperate and you find yourself nodding. "Just keep it slow."

He nods back, feels your thumb brush over the head of his cock and can't manage to form any other agreement.

The next glide of your hand is easier, slick with precum, and you're suddenly grateful you chose to start all of this in pyjama shorts, gives him easy access to nudge aside the crotch of your shorts and panties and slip two fingers inside you.

You're already just as wet as he thought you would be, tight, velvet heat welcoming the stretch of his fingers, aching pleasure manifesting in the moan of his name, the dip of your head against his neck.

Everything is warm, heat against heat against wet, a mess of limbs and dest fingers and moans spilt into a desk chair.

He does as you asked, curls his fingers slowly against that perfect spot deep inside you, each languid movement just a few seconds apart, has you aching for more pressure, more friction.

And so you do it for him, hips rocking against his hand as you start to speed up the stroking of his cock.

"Fuck, Y/n..."

He feels you clench around his fingers at the sound of your name, breathy and needy on his lips, makes you lean back to look at him as the grind of your hips becomes even faster.

"'S that feel good?" You ask, free hand moving up to hold his jaw, thumb catching his bottom lip, dragging it down, and he can taste the salt of your skin when he nods.

Your thumb moves to brush his cheek, lets him speak unabetted. "Thought you wanted to go slow," He mumbles, breathes it heavy against you when your mouth slots over his.

"Fuck slow."

You kiss him just in time to swallow the deep moan he releases, forever the one to make you feel and taste and hear just how good you make him feel, the result of yet another quicken of your fist up and down his cock.

The chair is squeaking now, the scrape of metal against metal melting into the sounds already echoing around the room, whining and heavy breath and slick, and you would be more concerned about it giving out under your combined weight if it weren't for the way the flat of Peter's palm was circling your clit, the curl of his fingers faster and faster and faster until—

"Need you to cum for me," You breathe, feel the warmth knotting through your lower stomach about to overflow.

"'M right with you, baby. Right-"

And then you're both falling, meet in a clash of lips and teeth and moans, pulsing and messy as hands finally slow.

You settle firmly in his lap, fingers still pressed deep inside you, both of you collapsing against the other's shoulder, try to bring your minds back to a tangible world.

And then the chair finally gives, keels under the leaning pressure and deposits you directly on the floor, lurches you rudely out of your post-orgasmic bliss.

"Are you okay?"

You ask it at the same time, answer in a shared rush of laughter.

Peter's legs are still dangling over the edge of the toppled chair, pushes you further up his body so your face is hovering over his, your hand on his chest keeping you up.

The laughter melts into grins, smiles pressed into a kiss. "I think this is a sign you should come to bed."

"Only if I get to touch you like that again."

request something! masterlist

[enchantedblackrose]

5 Sentences Game - Antonio Dawson 'I can't believe you did that.'

Oooh. Thank you! I got a bit carried away. Surprise, surprise! And ⚠️ nsfw suggestions at the very end. Again haha

"I can't believe you did that," Antonio playfully growls at you with a face completely covered in flour.

You giggle, reaching for another handful., but with one arm Antonio grabs you by the waist, twisting you away from the kitchen counter. "Oh no you don't." His free hand reaches for the bag of flour and coats your face. You squeal, hands flailing wildly in an attempt to grab anything to fight back with. You reach a pastry bag with frosting and fighting against Antonio’s grip, manage to squeeze some of the contents in his hair. The bewildered look upon his face sends you into a fit of laughter. Blinking back tears, you see Antonio has the bottle of cooking oil, threatening to spill over your head.

Your laughter ceases. "Tonio, no. Mi amor, I'm sorry," but despite the looming threat, the sight of the bright frosting in his hair causes you to grin, betraying any sincerity you were conveying. Antonio tsks as he pours the liquid over your head. You shriek and try to break from his hold.

It's difficult for Antonio to hold on to you and before either you know it, you slip, crashing down hard on the floor below you.

There's no trace of amusement left on Antonio’s face as he drops down to look you over. "Baby? Are you okay?"

"I think so," you chuckle, knowing you are not seriously injured. "My butt is probably bruised though."

His eyebrows shoot up. "I could check that out for you." You want to roll your eyes, but it's impossible to do so when Antonio looks at you like he is, his dark eyes full of lust. A familiar tingling sensation ripples through your body and you just nod at Antonio. With ease, he hoists you up, carrying you the entire way to the master shower...

-

Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I'll write the next five.

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.3

Pt. 1    Pt.2   Pt. 3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, smut in this chapter, unprotected sex, (some dom/sub themes, cunnilingus, squirting, slight breeding/impreg language, creampie, cumplay), some fluffiness follows the smut, secret relationship, angst

a/n: Part 3! This is the smut chapter. This is one of the longer ones. I hope this is meeting everyones expectations from what the first chapter had given off. Very excited to share the rest. As always requests/asks are open! :)

Word count. 3.7K

You were awakened with a light knock on the other side of Loki’s chamber door. You kept your eyes closed not wanting to have to face any conflict fresh out of sleep. Remaining in your same position you heard Thor’s voice informing Loki to feel free to make his way to the dining hall. You kept still, wanting to hear the entire conversation without any disruptions or derailings of what was meant to be said. 

“Who's the young lady between your legs, brother?”

“One I’m thinking of marrying. The only issue is her parents' blessing, something she’s yet to ask. The right time’s on the horizon, but not quite within reach.” 

“Have you spoken to father about it?”

“I have the feeling that waiting until the last moment will work best for me. A bit of chaos if you will.”

Thor chuckled

“You never change, brother.”

“Why alter something that needs not fixing?”

“That bridge is yours to cross and I will be there for you when it happens. Regardless, food will be waiting for you and your lady when you're ready to come out.”

Loki nodded his head in acknowledgment and Thor left the room. With the door closing, you stretched and turned around to face Loki. 

“So, you plan on making me your wife?”

“You were awake?!”

“I had stirred awake when your brother knocked on the door. I wasn’t faking it the whole time. Although I’ll admit, it’s nice to know you’re in this fully.”

You stood up and moved to sit in Loki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Well, since you eavesdropped in on the conversation, are you up to eat?”

You answered, hesitantly,

“Yes...if you’re in it fully and an offer of marriage is in the near future, the least I can do to convey my undying fidelity is to be shared with you in public. I’m ready for it all.”

Standing up, you stepped to the side to let Loki up and lead the way. Once out of his quarters you walked beside him through the corridors of the palace he called home. Arriving in the dining hall to your surprise and relief everyone had already left. The two of you to be left alone. Life felt unusually at ease, anxiety was free from your bones and you had a gut feeling that at least while you were here everything would play out in your favor. It was more than comforting and for once in quite some time you were finally able to eat. A little more than you expected honestly. You hadn’t realized how much you had been depriving yourself of necessary nutrients because eating was the last thing on your mind. Everything had been cluttered for the past year. 

It wasn’t until recently that your appetite began to fizzle out. You knew you’d eventually be okay but one meal a day would eventually catch up to you. And right now it was showing.

“Hungry?”

Suddenly aware of your surroundings and Loki’s raised eyebrow you were faced with how much you had actually gone through while being stuck in your head. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look like a pig did I?”

You shrunk, your shoulders making a poor attempt at hiding your embarrassed face.

“No, Y/N, you did not. Simply wondering how you put it all away.”

You paused wondering whether or not you should expose yourself. Relationships were all about transparency, right? 

“I haven’t been eating all that much lately. The mental has affected the physical especially within my own home and I finally felt comfortable within these walls and I completely forgot my manners. My apologies.”

“I never said to stop. Indulge till your heart and well, stomach’s content Y/N. This will be your home, thus you may behave however you see fit. There’s no need for change.”

Looking at Loki through your brow you saw that he meant what he said. The expression on his face silently communicating sincerity to you. Your embarrassment faded and was replaced with affirmation. 

Finishing in the hall you and Loki walked back into his quarters. Night had fallen over the sky completely and the hallways of the palace looked more familiar to you now. Entering his room you walked past the bed and went straight for the balcony. You looked up towards the sky, looking for the answer to all your questions to be written in the stars. You failed to hear the footsteps behind you and only became aware of Loki’s presence when his arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulders.

“You know, the stars aren’t going to give you the answers with any more ease. Believe me, I’ve tried. You just have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I know I just...I just wish it would be easier. I wish we had the freedoms of the cosmos, being able to travel through the entire mass of space without thought of what's to come next.”

You turned around, resting your back against the railing. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you looked up at Loki. The moonlight was bright and full, casting a white shadow across his features. You were unsure of what to do with your hands so you just placed them by your sides and admired Loki for a little while longer. A small smile subconsciously formed on your face and it wasn't until Loki reached for your hands did the haze in your eyes fade.  

“If only you knew the chaos I’d bring upon worlds. If only you knew the hells I’d race through, the agony I’d suffer with if it meant you by my side...it would seem that freedom is already had, my darling.” 

“Loki, I-

“-No matter the circumstance, you will be by my side. Whatever the battle is you must face with your parents, I swear to you, you will not bear the burden alone. If you were to, then what would I be here for?”

Your hand squeezed around his own and before you got a chance to respond to him, Loki’s hand slipped from your own and tilted your chin up. Staring into your eyes before capturing you into a searing kiss. It felt warm, comfortable, and fueled by fiery passion all at once. You removed your hand from his and wrapped your arms around his neck, weaving your fingers into his hair. Loki’s hands traveled to your waist but didn’t stay long before they traveled further down and firmly grasped your ass in his hand. The action causing an airy moan to slip from you and tug on his hair tighter eliciting a similar response from him. He slipped away from your lips, smirk all too telling of what was to come next 

“Coming alive now that the moon is out? You’re like my own personal bloodsucker.”

You playfully hit his shoulder 

“Loki..” 

“What it’s true darling. You really do, come...alive at night. It’s not a problem though, I quite enjoy seeing you shed the layers you wear while the sun shines.”

Emphasizing his point he squeezed your ass again and tapped under signaling to you to jump. Wrapping your legs around his slender waist, he turned you around and walked back into his bedroom. 

“Now that you are in your element, I take it it's time for that prize you spoke of so arrogantly earlier.”

Your eyes widened realizing what you had just signed yourself up for. Loki placed you gently down on his bed and crawled over to face you directly. 

“Unfortunately...for you at least, your choice in waiting will leave you in desperate need of a pillow to keep you from waking anyone important up.” 

“You’re so snarky, what if I desire to control this evening, hmm?”

“It will be a dream short-lived my love. You and I both know you have a debilitating tendency to fall weak under my touch. It’s irresistible to you.”

Tangling your leg underneath Loki’s, you flipped yourself over so that you were now on top of him. Desperate in having at least one moment to relish in dominance over him. Situating yourself you ground yourself into his now growing arousal. Planting your hands on his chest you brought yourself forward, leaning down into his ear and rolling your hips into his once more causing him to hiss through his teeth. Licking a stripe up from his neck to his ear you ended your trail with a light nibble on his lobe. In your last-ditch effort of a display of power, you whispered in his ear,

“Don’t be dense, you and I both know you enjoy it with much fervor being like this.”

And just like that, your moment of fame was something of the past. Before you could even register that your moment was gone, Loki was already on top of you, and the dress that once adorned your soft skin was being torn down the middle, exposing your body to him.

“Loki!-”

“-My love, there was no room left for teasing. We already established that did we not? Now, to remind you of your place, I’m going to make sure you never forget it or this night we’re sharing.”

Loki snaked down your body, his hands resting on your hips bones while he nudged your sex with his nose. Squirming your way into a submissive role, you rolled your hips down in need of any type of friction. 

“Y/N, unlike some people in the room, I fully intend on giving you what you yearn for. You just have to find the willpower of patience within you. Remember I don’t like teasing.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did right th-”

Your sentence was cut short cuz Loki had licked a tender stripe between your folds. Sending passion electric through your body. Your head lulled back into the bed fully engaged in Loki’s ministrations to your most sensitive of areas. Losing yourself in the moment you failed to notice Loki’s hands traveling up your sides and resting on your pert nipples. Rolling them between his fingers, your fingers clutched the sheets beneath you, needing something to brace yourself on. 

“Shit~ Loki, you're so good! Oh my god, don’t stop, I’m so close!”

Lifting his head up slightly you felt the change in atmosphere waiting for his smart remark to leave his lips.

“You said that with a lowercase g right?”

A little extra air left your nose signaling your light amusement to his statement. Only to follow it with a roll of your eyes still amazed by Loki’s narcissism even in such an intimate moment. The lightness in the air didn’t last long for Loki continued his attack on your cunt without warning. Smirking against your folds, he spoke

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Unless you’re seeking punishment this evening.” 

“Fuck Loki!”

His tongue was something otherworldly, finding all your sweet spots and using it to his advantage. He rolled your nipple once more and this time added a lithe finger inside your dripping heat curling it just right to become acquainted with the cute little spongy spot within you. Your hands found refuge in his black locks, rolling your hips into his face feeling your release begin to peak over the precipice. 

“Loki, please don’t stop! I’m so close, I’m gonna cum. Please, Please Loki let me cum.”

A reinvigorated fire was now fueling Loki to help you reach your bliss and with a swift back and forth motion on your now swollen clit your orgasm washed over you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Your back arched and your thighs clamped around Loki’s head being completely overwhelmed with your climax. As your orgasm subsided you brought yourself to your elbows getting ready to return the favor to your lover. But he had other plans.

Grabbing your hips, Loki slid you down the bed closer to him and placed his mouth on your sensitive mound once more.

“Holy shit! Loki, stop, I'm so sensitive.”

Looking up at your through hooded lids, he cocked one eyebrow and questioned

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“I-uhh”

Flattening his tongue against your sex your response was lost in thin air replaced with a cry of pleasure. Loki entered another finger into your fluttering cunt and was determined on bringing you to a second rapture which was not difficult considering the aftershocks of your first one were still running through you. You felt the heat pool in your lower stomach and you began to feel the pressure build somewhere lower. For a split second, you became worried about what was going to happen next and you attempted to push Loki away from you not wanting to lose control, but his other arm kept you in place. 

“Loki, please I can’t handle it. Please!”

You weren’t quite sure what it was you were begging for. It definitely wasn’t for him to stop because you were so close but rather to save the embarrassment of what was to come. Unable to ward off your orgasm any longer, Loki’s finger made one final motion and your second orgasm was even stronger than the first. Ruining your vision and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Darling...remind me from now on to never let you writhe out of my ministries.”

Trying to calm down your heavy breathing you looked down at Loki only to be met with the sight of beads of your orgasm trail down his face and your juices glistening on his chin. The sheets beneath you beginning to turn a little cold. 

“Loki, oh my-”

Climbing up over your body, he hovered over your face. Somehow while lost in your own euphoria Loki’s shirt was discarded somewhere in the room and you were all but distracted by his toned physique.

“Don’t even think about an apology. Seeing you lose yourself in me like that was more than satisfying and this was just an extra luxury that you allowed me to enjoy.”

He emphasized his point by rubbing his fingers through your weeping pussy causing your body to jerk due to the sensitivity and Loki just smiled at you. Moaning you trailed your hand down to the pronounced tent in Loki’s pants. 

“I can’t wait any longer Loki. I need you inside of me. Please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper becoming insatiable with Loki above you. Fidgeting with the button on his pants, it didn’t take you long to have them unfastened, and slipped your hand into his pants, palming his length. Loki dropped his head into the crook of your neck, a low growl escaping his throat. Helping Loki push the fabric down the rest of his legs he positioned himself in between your hips lining himself up with your entrance. Looking up at you, you noticed there was a certain softness swimming in his eyes. 

“Y/N, you are so beautiful. Truly you are the most entrancing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m more than favored to be able to call you mine.”

“Loki, I~oh fuck”

The recurring theme of your sentences being lost in translation continued when Loki prodded his tip at your entrance causing you to suck in a breath of sheer pleasure. 

“Don’t tease me, please. Just fill me up Loki, I feel so empty without you.”

A moan and an airy chuckle left Loki’s lips before he fully sheathed himself within your tight core.

“Darling, no matter how many times I have marred your womb you still remain tight as ever. Gods you feel divine.”

Moving at a slow yet devastating pace Loki’s cock was kissing your cervix and sweet spot with every single thrust. Your core clenching around him created a resistance that was licentious and overwhelming for the both of you. Loki pulled himself almost all the way out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt causing a loud high pitched moan to flee from your chords.

“Shit! Loki, do that again.”

Loki repeated the action and your back arched from the bed and your nails dug into his back racking down the length of it. This new pace and pattern of movement were moving you quickly to your third release of the evening.

“You like that Y/N. Like how my cock can make you feel like no one else can. I’m going to make sure that your insides become so familiar with my shape that nothing else will be able to satisfy you.”

Picking up his pace slightly, Loki was still slamming deep inside you. Your eyes were no longer able to stay open while lost in all the pleasure that was tingling your entire body. Quickly though that thought would be eradicated from your mind as Loki’s hand came up to your face squishing your cheeks together forcing your lips to pout.

“Look at me while I fuck you Y/N. I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. I want you to watch as I fill you with my seed, claiming you as mine forever.”

You and Loki had never let him finish inside of you and the idea of him filling you with his seed and becoming swollen with his kid had you squeezing around him tighter than you ever had. Your moans picked up in frequency and you moved your hand up to his neck bringing his face down to your so that you could share a kiss while the both of you were approaching your highs. Loki’s hand snaked down to your core and began lightly rubbing on your clit. The last bit of stimulation fully brings you to the peak of your approaching high.

“Loki, fuck. I’m going to cum. Please don’t stop. Please please please!”

Loki brought his forehead down to rest on yours. A sticky layer of sweat was evident on both your faces. His thrusts became more erratic signaling he hadn’t much time left in him before his high. 

“I love you, Y/N. More than you could fathom. And I~ahh”

This affirmation took you by surprise. You and Loki had a strong partnership and you knew that you loved each other mutually but you both had never said it out loud before. Not only did this warm your heart but it also pushed you over your threshold and your climax. Washing over you for the third time that evening. Your fluttering core cutting off Loki’s admirations for you and also sending him over his escarpment. 

“I love you too Loki, so much. I~ah fuck you feel so good still.”

Keeping your foreheads still pressed together, you stayed like that until your breathing mellowed out. Waiting for the right moment to speak again. Pulling out of you Loki watched as his seed was spilling out of you due to the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Now look at that. This is something I could get used to seeing. But more importantly, I want to ensure that your womb takes all of me.”

Taking his nimble fingers, Loki was gently pushing back his cum inside of your cunt. You were so sensitive that each time his fingers grazed your now wrecked hole, your body reacted with a quick shake and the tightening of your stomach. Your eyes kept halfway rolling into the back of your head, the overstimulation turning into something of immense ecstasy. 

“Come up here Loki.”

Sliding his way up towards the head of the bed where you were, you nestled into his chest. His skin still tacky with sweat, your bodies melding together like human puzzle pieces. Your hand was drawing mindlessly on his chest and eventually found its way to his face where you were thumbing his cheek. 

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what- of course, I did. Y/N you know that lying to you is something I find absurd. And of the few things, I refuse to lie about, intimacy is one of them. Do not fill yourself with unnecessary doubt.”

Turning his face to yours you shared another kiss with him. Tender and full of passion you were silently telling him that you understood and that the feelings were reciprocated. Pulling away from you he sat up.

“Perhaps we should run ourselves a bath. Clean ourselves up before we grow too tired to think about anything else.”

Sighing you pushed yourself up to sit upright on the bed. Lightly nodding Loki stood from the bed and was waiting for you before moving any further. You looked up at him with pleading eyes

“Carry me?”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue he begrudgingly picked you up bridal style and walked you to the bathroom of his quarters.

“You are incongruous.”

“Perhaps I am, but for us, it works.”

Setting you down on the edge of the tub Loki began drawing the bath. Steam rising up from the heat of the water. You knew it would sting on the way in but the initial burn would morph into relaxation and ease your now tense muscles. Reaching for the soap on the corner of the bath closest to you, you walked over shakily to the spout of water so that bubbles would form before the two of you got in. 

Once the water hit an appropriate height Loki helped you in, already aware of the weakness in your legs. Settling in behind you he began washing you down with one of the many washrags in the bathroom.

“You know, we’re going to have to get this out in the open a lot sooner than we were planning. Especially if you are to have my child.”

“I know. I was thinking about that. Give my silence. Let us wait till morning to run through our thoughts about how to go about this. I want to enjoy this moment with you without the worry of what’s to come next.” 

“Understood my love.”

With Loki having the last word, the two of you shared amorous silence while relaxing in the tub. Enjoying each other’s company, the silence between the two of you was necessary to think about what was going to happen next in the chaos of your life. Finishing up in the bath, you two dried off and headed off to bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you drifted off to sleep rather quickly. Your body exhausted from the night's affairs. Not knowing that this would be the last night you recognized what peace could ever look like.

[leamy-world]

Reaction to The Devil Judge (spoilers for ep. 9 & 10)

It’s been a while since i’ve last been on tumblr, but i got invested in this drama every week & the fandom’s analyses to not talk about it sometime! (Last time i was hooked, it was with Beyond Evil and i watched it by the time the finale already aired so i didn’t suffer from the weekly wait!)

So here i am, this is mainly self-indulgent with essay-long interpretations of some scenes in a totally random order, but i’d love to interact with whoever reads this if they want to react!

I’m sorry for the potential awkward phrasings, english is not my first language!

- The recap was nicely done and tied everything together, it made me realize so many things happened since the beginning! The repetition didn’t make me skip it, the narration was dynamic & fun.

- The ‘power display’ & threat Yohan showed to Soohyun (by lashing out at Juk Chang and strangling him, as proxy for Soohyun, in front of her while staring at her) were something …! She answered in the same fashion, passing by him saying she will ‘arrest Juk Chang’. I wonder how their next encounters will unfold.

- Many people already pointed this out, but Soohyun’s decision to leave Elijah, a minor, alone in her car (with its doors open, daring to tell her to stay there when she has no other choice anyway) + stop the gang alone and unannounced off duty was irresponsible. Anyways, i wonder if she will interact again with Elijah because they were adorable, i would miss it!

- The conversation between Soohyun & Gaon at his apartment (ep. 10) was interesting on both parts: 

It sounded casual, but Soohyun wanted to see where he stood in the Kang family and make sure he wasn’t in Yohan’s plans (i hope she didn’t seriously mean the ‘weird’ comment about Elijah, it’d be sad since Elijah enjoyed her company!).

Gaon was anxious professor Min told her about their last conversation (i think she’ll talk to him in the next eps). He also indirectly defended the Kangs by associating himself with them (« I’m pretty sure i’m just as weird ») and voiced his concern about Yohan, speaking more to himself than following the conversation at hand. 

When Soohyun changed the subject with the ‘i’m jealous’ bit, maybe it was to brighten the mood with a light-hearted comment, hoping Gaon would follow. And by the look of her pause right after, it seemed she was also expecting GO’s ‘positive’ reaction to her jealousy, giving in to the kind of teasing/flirt they have in their friendship. But deep down, it was also to voice her true unease about Gaon’s involvement with Yohan she had since the beginning and ep. 8. 

It’s obvious to us she meant she was jealous of Yohan. And GO could’ve understood it this way too, since she confessed to him multiple times and her feelings must be known to him (i think he takes it as a ‘joke’ given how many times she confessed and each time when he was crying, so maybe he thought, very reasonably, it was to cheer him up? I also guess he’s too absorbed by his current worries about the Kangs and her potential suspicion, to notice her attempts). 

But instead of that, he’s not in the same line of thoughts at all and picks up on the « rich », musing on what makes one’s existence rich, thinking Soohyun was envying Yohan’s position and life and proving her he’s indeed in a whole different world, empathizing with Yohan. 

She then looked like her face fell, until her eyes lit up again when he was about to admit she was precious to him along with his family.

By the way, this scene picks up right where we were left off in ep. 8, when Gaon tends to his plants:

« - Are you back for good? - Not really. They need some looking after. - You should come back, not drop by. This is where you live. - Someone there needs some taking care of too. - Take care of your own self, please. - What about me? I’m living a shamelessly comfortable life. Soohyun. - Yes? - What are you thinking about? - Nothing. By the way, Gaon … » (i wonder what she was going to say!)

Lost in thoughts, Gaon’s mixed emotions when he said Yohan was not rich (« he’s not rich. If you get to know him, Kang Yohan is really poor. ») were very well depicted by Jinyoung’s acting: the soft voice and the ghost of a smile that convey understanding and endearment, leaning on his counter in a relaxed stance, but also at the same time the stare lost in the space, maybe to all the memories tied to the Kangs and Yohan, and the tension in his left lip corner by the end of his sentence which betray his sadness and empathy with Yohan’s life. After this, when he became aware of Soohyun’s gaze, it’s like his bubble popped. He looked surprised with his eyes widening, and was fidgeting a little, then changed the subject to himself.

And « I have you, Soohyun » sounded truly grateful but also sad and conflicted, GO lets his worries show when she’s gone, maybe wondering if they would be bound to be against each other one day as he continues to side with Yohan, menacing to jeopardize their friendship to the point of no return. In these kinds of stories you expect these kinds of twists, but i grew fond of the cast send help

- I loved how Yohan’s confession to GO about his brother was filmed: the camera faced head-on his pain, slipping unbeknownst to him through the façade he always showed to protect himself. But this time, despite his (late) attempts to dismiss these feelings both for him and Gaon to regain composure (the hand gestures to hide his tears, pretending to be tough with the  « there’s no such things as innocent people », drinking away his sorrow with a bitter laugh that rings hollow), all this façade fades out in front of Gaon literally by being blurred out in the shot, as if he clearly sees his pain through (his silhouette appearing clear-cut between Yohan’s gestures). I know it’s a pretty classic shot but it fit well with this scene. He clenches his jaw in the next shot, moved by Yohan opening up. 

- The dinner scene was really moving …! Especially when you put the colder tones the kitchen had when we first saw Yohan have dinner by himself next to this scene, full of light in contrast! I wonder when the OST playing will be released, it was so beautiful and reminded me of My Mister’s OST (especially Rainbow!). I look forward to the lyrics, because most of the time the OST gives more layers & depth to the story and the characters! (please don’t let it be about Yohan’s budding feeling of a true ‘home’ ;;) I didn’t realize it upon my first watch, but Gaon really took the cutlery hostage, it cracked me up!

- The parallels in this show will be the end of me: Yohan went from the « i’m so sick of this place » (ep. 5) to asking K to drive him « home » with a delighted smile. 

- I liked the parallel of Yohan’s reaction to GO/Sun-Ah sitting in his office chair, impeding on his space (he reminds SA to stay out of it, the first time politely, the second time almost grimacing, his jaw clenched: « Just because you’re the head of the OSC doesn’t mean you can barge in like this (…) So please stop barging in like this. », while he says nothing to GO)

- At the beginning of ep. 10, we have Yohan saying he doesn’t like «  hanging out with people » & by the end of it, Soohyun saying « My childhood’s best friend is hanging out with a rich guy ».

- These two episodes gave more insight and nuance into Sun-Ah’s character, which was very nice ; and also Cha Kyung-Hee’s comeback (and her last confrontation with Sun-Ah!!!!)

- The people following Juk Chang also targeted sexual minorities according to the subs i had, i wonder if it will be addressed again sometime in the drama. 

- I loved Elijah’s « hacking » technique scene, i felt proud too! I always look forward to her scenes (and Kkomi’s too haha)! And her reaching out Gaon’s shoulder for the first time ;;

- The ‘humans lose their minds when they think they’ve lost what they have’ ……… repeated twice by YH ………… It will hit hard and all those lines will come right back at us viewers, but i’m not prepared haha! And also for the ‘if you want revenge, don’t hesitate’, i hope it doesn’t foreshadow a future revenge Gaon will execute without hesitation aaaaaa

Also, what lawyer Ko said about himself in ep. 8 may apply to Yohan’s case by the end, will he atone for what he did someday? (« I’m no longer a lawyer. I’m just a criminal. When all this comes to an end, I’ll pay for what i did. »)

- I really loved Yohan’s efforts to take into consideration both Elijah’s (he refrained himself from acting rashly like the last time she went out and listened to her) and Gaon’s feelings (stopping him from endangering himself recklessly, not forcing him onto the revenge path lest he’d regret it afterwards, and helping him to face the truth rationally). 

- « She’s hungry for affection. No matter how much you hate the world and the people in it, you can never live alone. You always need someone to rely on. As long as you’re a human being. » Many people commented on it, Gaon must speak from his own experience and empathizes with both Elijah and Yohan’s situation. These two episodes showed how Gaon cares for the Kangs more openly, and i live for it! 

- Give me that domestic scene where Gaon plays cards with YH, the nanny and Elijah! And also more K and lawyer Ko scenes!

- Jinjoo’s and Gaon’s intervention in the trial were gold! And Satie’s Gnossiennes rearrangement playing in the background during Juk Chang’s speech, it’s the cherry on the cake haha

- By the way, there was also an arrangement of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto no. 2 during the first charity event Yohan went with Jinjoo in the earlier episodes, it was also beautiful!

- GO’s Awkward Smile. I have no words, it is now forever imprinted on my mind.

Have a nice week and take care!

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Event! SP Granny’s Tailor Shop: A Giantess can Fall in Love too! Chapter 4: Glimmer of Hope (柳暗花明) Translation

“Gao Ran didn’t give up in her pursuit of the stage. Stubborn as a mull, she finally managed to use the potential of it to persuade the program team to let the ‘Fengshan Grand Ceremony’ to be performed in the finals.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join my Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Event story tag will be #For Light and Memories *Main Story Chapter 1 is referenced. You can read the refs here and here

When I went to the shop on Sunday morning, I found Gao Ran standing outside, clutching a big bag.

MC: Huh? What are you doing here? Have you been waiting long?

Gao Ran: I just arrived. I came according to the opening time.

Gao Ran handed me an azuki matcha-flavoured sundae with two chocolate biscuits inserted at the font.

Gao Ran: My treat; for bothering you every time.

Gao Ran: It’s my favourite flavour, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.

MC: Thanks~

I pulled the chairs up to the door. The sunlight shining in through the windows made patches of sunny spots on the ground.

The sundae melted in my mouth, the slight bitterness of the matcha paired with the sweetness of red beans brought life to my originally dull weekend.

Gao Ran: I actually wanted to shoot you a message to tell you about it, but I decided to drop by after thinking it through.

Gao Ran took out an exquisite-looking invitation letter with the logo of “Angel Supermodel” printed on it. On the back of it was a row of different silhouettes, but although they were merely blobs of shadows, I could still make out Gao Ran from a single glance.

MC: Are you wearing… the Empress’ court dress?

MC: You did it!? The “Fengshan Grand Ceremony” is happening…!?

She stretched, the muscles around her mouth loosening into a slight smile.

Gao Ran: I'll be waiting for you at the venue next Saturday, at 8 PM.

MC: I'll be there!

Gao Ran: You won't be disappointed.

I happily jumped to my feet in excitement with the admission ticket in hand. The matcha ice cream slipped past the corner of my mouth, brushing against my face.

Gao Ran then took a tissue and handed it to me. While cleaning off the mess, I curiously nudged her with my shoulder.

MC: So, how did you manage to persuade the director in the end?

Gao Ran: Well… through the potential of it!

She replied with a straight face before she too, stuck out her tongue, unable to hold back her bubbling laughter.

Gao Ran: When reviewing the program, we purposely played the “cultural inheritance” card to convince the director that it does have a worthy selling point.

Gao Ran: I mean, doesn’t she want fame and fortune after all? If she gets questioned on this, then she’ll show everyone else that she has a strong sense of social responsibility no matter what topic it is that’s on the stage!

Gao Ran: As the director, one should always remember to spread culture and tradition whenever one can.

Gao Ran: But I know deep down, that I don’t have a good spotlight, and neither do I have the beauty of endazzling others on sight. All I can do is to put my bets on the results of the performance.

Gao Ran: In all honesty, Xin Xian’s chances of winning are much higher than mine.

MC: Don’t go saying such depressing things. The competition hasn’t even started!

MC: You’re doing so well now, you don’t even need those spotlights! Look at you, you’re glowing!

Gao Ran: Okay, stop making jokes out of me. I’m actually really, really nervous.

Gao Ran: No matter how hard I try to persuade myself that everything will be fine so long as I try my best, I still can’t help but worry.

Gao Ran: Like, what if the audience doesn’t like it” What if I made a mistake? Or, what if I don’t meet everyone’s expectations…?

❖☆———————————★❖  

Gao Ran spoke of a good many “what ifs”. Each and every sentence was like the thorns of a cactus, slowly piercing and embedding itself as a doubt in her heart.

I gently patted her on the shoulder before standing up and pulling a formal top hat from the display cabinet.

❖☆———————————★❖    

MC: This top hat here was designed by me during the finals of the Warson Prize’s Fashion Designer competition.

MC: The judge believed that this hat only contained “conceptual design”, with absolutely no thought going into whether the craftsmanship of it was appropriate or otherwise.

MC: But there was also someone else who told me that aesthetics was originally and ultimately, a very personal thing.

MC: There might be people who won’t accept your work, but there will also naturally be others who love it.

MC: So, you don’t have to worry about how the audience will react. The most important thing is to convey what you like best to everyone else out there.

A gentle breeze blew, lifting the loose strands of hair that hung before her forehead. Suddenly, I felt like this work, built on the concept of “resilience”, suited her very well.

I lightly placed the top hat atop her head. Its big brim covered half of her small face. Her expression, firmly set in determination, was now set in stark contrast with the black chiffon of the top hat, just like an elegant, yet thorny rose.

MC: Beautiful.

Gao Ran: Of course not. You just have wondrous craftsmanship.

She straightened the hat, looking up at me in slight curiosity.

Gao Ran: (Y/n), if you already know that the competition is unfair… and that your appearance in it is nothing more than to serve as a stepping stone for the opponent to ascend to the throne…

Gao Ran: Would you still choose to continue?

MC: I would. Even if the result cannot be altered, I’d still try to enjoy the process that leads up to it.

MC: I believe that they’ll like it best when you go all out.

The afternoon wind slowly breezed past, making the wind chimes hanging on the door jingle in its wake, almost as if forming a response to her confused silence.

❖☆————— ⊹ A Giantess can Fall in Love too! ⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Previous Part: (Chapter 3: In the Depths of Memory) ⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 5: As Promised)

[quietlyimplode]

Five Songs.

Day 2 - prompt of Music for @clintasha-week Advent 2020

Five moments in time.

1/ St Ides

Crawling the broken fences, when shit gets hard

You know who your friend is

And when I lose perspective

Need to go to a place where I lose reception

“I just need a friend; not a lecture,” Natasha says quietly.

“Can I sit next to you?” Clint asks standing behind her.

“We’re on the top of a random building in New York, how’d you even find me?”

“Sometimes you come here when you’re sad. How can I not know?” Clint shifts from foot to foot, looking at her nervously. She’s sitting on the edge of the building. A move that would normally be his shiitic.

“You can sit.” Natasha swings her legs from back over the edge and looks at him. Jumping down, she slides down the wall and sits. Crossing his legs he sits next to her.

Tentatively he reaches for her hand, covering her fingers lightly.

They sit in silence, the remnants of the failed mission floating away in the moonlight.

2/ Toy Soldiers

I'm supposed to be the soldier who never blows his composure

Even though I hold the weight of the whole world on my shoulders

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Clint is furious. Angry doesn’t cover it, furious doesn’t touch it.

“I was thinking that we would lose more people if I didn’t.” It’s justified. Natasha thinks. What’s one life if so many more are at stake. Which Clint then calls her out on.

“At the cost of your own life?”

Yes, she thinks. Judging by his pacing, it’s not the answer he wants. She could placate him now or fight on this one. It’s an argument she knows is going to come up again. Fuck this. Let’s fight this one out.

“What the hell do you know? I made the right call. Without me they wouldn’t be on the quinjet back, without me we’d be at a funeral, without me..”

No more funerals. At least in the red room, there was no wakes, no funerals. She can’t stand the grief and the outpouring of emotions.

“You know what? Shut up. You made the wrong call, and it’s shear fucking dumb luck that you all made it out.” Natasha stares at him. Not luck. Clear plan, followed through by skill. Dangerous, maybe but not suicidal.

“So what? Just because you don’t have the guts to do it..” as soon as the words fly out, Natasha knows it’s a step too far.

“Fuck you and your fucking high horse.” Clint stalks out, slamming the door behind him.

.

They’re paired together 2 weeks later in a mission to Latvia. The tension bleeds through every interaction.

They’re made to share a room and it ends in another fight.

This time it’s physical.

It starts by Clint not observing personal space.

By the end of it, Clint has a black eye and Natasha has a knife wound on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t wrong though.” Natasha says passing him an ice pack.

“Maybe not, but either was I.” Clint passes her gauze.

“Truce?”

“Truce.”

3/ Are you with me?

I wanna dance by water 'neath the Mexican sky

Drink some Margaritas by a string of blue lights

Listen to the Mariachi play at midnight

Are you with me, are you with me?

“I love you.” Natasha says flippantly, grabbing her drink and clinking it with Clint's on the table.

“You’re drunk,” Clint laughs.

“Not enough to not know what what I’m saying. I love you.” She repeats.

“You’re serious.” Clint deadpans and laughs. “You’re serious.”

Natasha stretches out on the lounger, “as a heart attack.” She replies.

“I love you too, Nat.” Clint holds out his hand to grab hers and she grabs it, miss reading his intention and kisses the back of his hand.

4/ Konstantine

I can't imagine all the people that you know

And the places that you go

When the lights are turned down low

And I don't understand

All the things you've seen

But I'm slipping in between

You and your big dreams

It's always you in my big dreams

Natasha’s twitchy all day.

And the next.

It sets Clint on edge.

He tries to leave her to her coping. Whatever has triggered her this time isn’t bad (it’s not great), it’s not set off her ptsd (that he can tell) but it is frustrating (him).

She doesn’t stop moving, she doesn’t sleep and she’s more short tempered than usual. He forgot to take out the washing and she all but bit his head off.

He tries to stay away from her, spending more time in the gym, goes food shopping and the hides with Maria in her office.

By day 3, he’s had enough. Calls her out on it. Asks her what’s wrong and gets his head bitten off. Wrong move apparently.

He’s in the kitchen where he finds the writing pad where they write shopping lists, notes and messages to each other. There’s ashes in the sink next to it, a tell tale sign Natasha has burnt whatever her brain has been thinking. He shouldn’t. He wants to know. Any insight is better than not knowing.

He takes a pencil from the drawer and rubs it over the top of the paper. He feels more detective like than he’s felt in ages. She hasn’t hidden what she wrote well. But, he supposes, she didn’t expect him to be snooping.

There’s four sentences, written in her small neat handwriting. Each one drops him harder than the last.

I don’t know what’s wrong, I try and sleep and my dreams are..

He’s going to leave.

This is an exercise in futility

What’s wrong with me?

He covers his tracks, ripping the paper up and depositing it in bins around the apartment and goes in search of her.

She’s at the gym, sweating through whatever is going on. Acknowledging him with a nod she continues. He waits til she’s done and when she’s finally finished half an hour later, she turns.

He stands and goes over to her, and hugs her. Holds tight when she tries to pull away. Continues to hold it til he feels her melt into him. He tries to convey everything into it and squeezes tighter when she finally wraps her arms around him.

5 / work song

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

They’re in the hospital laying in beds side by side.

Clint wakes first, panicking she’s not next to him.

Setting off all the alarms, he falls out of bed and pulls himself over to her, pushes her across and lays next to her.

Safe at last.

______________________________________

1/ St Ides - Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

2/ Toy Soldiers - Eminem

3/ Are you with me - Lost Frequencies

4/ Konstantine - Something Corporate

5/ Work Song - Hozier

[witcherarcanathings]

When You’re Gone - An Asra Lucio x Female Reader Angst part 3

Part One (Lemon), Part Two, Part Four, Part Five

(Okay so, the reason I took so long writing this is because I was projecting myself onto MC, and writing a story that was too similar to something I recently went through. I was having trouble completing the story line, because my own story was unresolved. So here you go.)

Second submission for The Terrifying Ten challenge posted by @vesuviannights​ 

Smut (under the cut), Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Asra could almost feel you slipping away from him as the days went by. But he couldn’t help it, he had to go. He thought you understood that.

It hurt him that he had to ask others about you just to find out how you were. You’d gotten upset with him before, but this was different.

Since that day at the fountain, he had sent several letters, and all of them had gone unanswered.

As a gentle wind blew across his soft white curls, he sat cross legged on the grassy mountain path several hundred leagues from Vesuvia and silenced himself sending his consciousness out to search for you. 

It took several moments before he saw you, your back turned to him as you gazed into the palace’s reflection pool. Although Asra longed to see your face, he daren’t get too close. He knew if you sensed him, you’d push him away again, and he couldn’t bear another rejection. Silently he watched you burning bits of paper and then scattering the ashes into the water. It only took him  a moment to realize what they were: his letters. Angry and upset he broke the connection, resolved to hurry home and make things right.

You spent your time at the palace burying yourself in work, attempting  to put Asra in the back of your mind. You thought the busier you are, the less time you have for your thoughts to drift to the smell of fresh brewed tea, flowers blooming in the sunlight, violet eyes and a warm smile welcoming you home after a long day.

“Shit,” you curse. You were doing it again. It was so easy to remember the parts of Asra you loved, and even easier to forget the parts of him that caused you so much grief.

With a bundle of his recent letters in your hand, you lay lazily along the reflection pool, burning each one as you read them. When the first one came, you were happy your heart thrumming with the possibility of his return only to be disappointed when you realized it wasn’t. 

More letters came, but you were still too angry to answer. Too hurt. 

Every so often couriers would arrive with messages from Asra. When you hadn’t responded, his letters increased.

“Love, I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset with me. I’ll be back soon.”

“ I hope your doing well. Faust says you’ve been working hard at the palace. Please take care of yourself.”

" The sunsets here are really beautiful here. They make me think of you.”

“Please answer my letters, dearest. I miss you.”

And the final,

“Please.”

The worst part of it was the guilt you felt at not answering. But you just couldn’t now. Deep down you believed you never would. 

Sitting in the garden, you burned his latest plea in the palm of your hand, scattering the ashes to the wind as you sat staring at one of the lilies in the reflecting pool, studying the dragonfly resting on the soft pink petals. The white marble felt cool against your skin as you sat with legs folded along the edge.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the sound of footsteps behind you, or the glint of a golden arm reflecting in the gentle waters.

“Still brooding over your master?” Lucio broke in as he leaned casually against a nearby column.

 You scatter the last bit of ashes out of your palm before turning to face him. “Is there something I can assist you with, Count?” you ask, your tone conveying that you’d wish to be left alone.

A charming grin graced Lucio’s face, his twinkling eyes meeting yours. “Help me? No my dear, sweet magician, I was thinking maybe I could help you.” he answered.

“I’d be interested in knowing how,” you retort,  a laugh catching in your throat. “The only way I’ve seen you solve problems is by throwing money at it.” It was a joke, but it did have some truth in it. Lucio had changed much since he’d made and broke his deal with the devil, but there were still parts of him that would always remain the same.

“Well in a way, that’s what I am doing,” he continued as he stepped closer to you. ”Starting with paying the five coin citation for throwing litter in my pool.” he teased, offering you his right arm to help you up. “And lastly, by giving you this.” He uncoils an invitation placing it before you. “There’ll be a party tonight. I’ll take your attendance as repayment for the fine.” he said smiling.

You’re up on your feet in an instant as he gives you a moment to smooth out your clothes.

“I think I’ll pay the 5 gold.” you quip.

Lucio’s throaty and genuine laughs fill your ears as his hand closed the invitation into your palm. “You’re always so funny, my dear,” He sighed, “Be there at 8 o’clock. Don’t be late.” there was a bit of urgency in that he quickly covered with a confident smile as he squeezed your arm.

“I won’t be.” You say, your tone a bit more serious than you meant it to be.

 “Don’t be so grim! It’s a party not, a death sentence.” Lucio coaxed.

“One never knows when it comes to your parties, Lucio.” you shrug as you glance at the ornate invitation.

“Oh you’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear you’ll have the time of your life! You might even meet someone new.” He winked before turning to leave you standing in the garden with the invitation in your hand. “See you at 8.”

Looking at the invitation, you noticed something curious. 

“Lucio,” you shake the invitation in the air. “This says seven!”

The count turns, his smile as wistful and mysterious as the answer he gives you. “I know.”

Confused, you watch his proud and confident gait as he walks away.

Lucio had been hunting you the moment he heard you and Asra were done with.

Well, that's not exactly how Portia had put it: during their weekly card game she had let slip that you two were going through some ‘issues’. Whatever that meant.  For Lucio he decided it meant that Asra was gone and now Lucio finally a shot with you.

Tonight's party was all a part of his elaborate plan to woo you. He had made sure the food, the music, everything would be to your liking.

As he dressed for the evening, he thought about exactly what he would say, what he would do to make sure you were his tonight. Sitting in front of his vanity with his legs crossed, he made sure his eyeliner was as sharp and dramatic, with just a bit of a silver dusting that you remarked at his last party really brought out the silver in his eyes. He’d worn it many times since then, hoping to catch your eye, but so far he’d hadn’t received further comment.

 He wanted his makeup to be perfect, for it to draw you into his eyes and never look away. Applying the finishing touches, he looked himself over appraisingly. There was no way you wouldn’t want a piece of him.

When you get to your room, there's several boxes on the bed, wrapped in gold foil and tied with red ribbons. You read the tag on the largest package, already knowing who it’s from. "Compliments of his highness count Lucio" 

Sighing you opened the box. Not only did you have to go to a party, you had to wear some faddy costume that was-

Your last thought was stolen away from you as push away the white tissue paper to reveal the most beautiful gown you've ever seen: midnight blue, with twinkling moons and stars. Lucio knew your tastes well. Smiling, you walked over to the mirror and pressed the dress against you, swaying as you imagine how you’d look tonight. Ah, it was stunning - just looking at it made you feel beautiful as the first flutterings of happiness radiate within you.

At seven o’clock you’re surrounded by glittering lights and elegant guests dressed up in their finest. Heads turned as you entered the ballroom. You’d gotten used to it by now, your appointment as royal magician gave you some status. It wasn’t unusual for you to garner attention. But you knew it was more than your court appointment that had them staring. No, it was the fact that as you crossed the ballroom floor you looked like the queen of heaven.

 It wasn’t long before you were asked to dance by a visiting dignitary, and as you dance you tried to forget the longing in your heart. As the music played your mind wandered, and your body moved with practiced steps and gentle nods as your partner blathered on about some important business deal before he asked ‘wouldn’t you like to come sailing on my yacht this weekend?” You shook your head no, bowing low to excuse yourself. You needed a drink. 

Leaning against the wall, you relaxed as you drank and watched the other guests. Normally, you wouldn’t mind one of Lucio’s parties. They were always wonderful, and to be honest you needed a break. But tonight, all the glitz and glam seemed to fall flat. Being a wallflower was more familiar to you, and you were glad hardly anyone noticed you. Everyone except the count. Although he hadn’t said a word to you the entire evening, he’d been watching. You looked exactly as he envisioned as you entered the ballroom. He watched as you initially looked around and got your bearings. When he saw you noticing the flowers, he smiled exactly when you did in the exact same way. He watched you ferret out an empty table to sit at before you were asked to dance. And then laughed when you rebuffed their advances. “Nice try pal, but she’s taken. I’ve got her all figured out.” He muttered to himself.  After your fourth dance partner, he watched as you quietly excused yourself and grabbed a drink. Now was his chance. “See to everything, will you Valerius? I’m going to check on our guest of honor.” he said with a tap to the Consul’s shoulder. 

Although you’ve stopped dancing, you find your heart racing the closer it gets to 8 o’clock.Your eyes occasionally look up at the large golden clock on the far side of the ballroom, and although it’s silly you can’t help but wonder why Lucio said he would see you at eight. He was there when you arrived, but something about the smile he gave you told you he was up to something.

Anticipation builds, and your heart continues to race until the clock strikes eight and you feel yourself releasing the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

But you soon learn that you relaxed too soon, as a cool metal arm slips into yours and you find yourself side by side with Lucio.

“Enjoying the party?” Lucio purrs. 

“Yes its-” 

“You don’t have to lie.” Lucio interrupts. “It’s Asra isn’t it? Pity even all this isn’t enough to distract you from your heartache.” He says waving an arm to the extravagant celebration going on around you.

You sighed in defeat, hoping that it wasn’t that obvious. “I’m sorry, Lucio. Everything’s wonderful and I’m glad I came it’s just-”

Lucio brought a finger to your lips to silence you.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” His low, wistful voice interrupted. “Don’t worry I have something else that might help.” He nods his head forward, and after giving him a skeptical look you let him lead you through the ballroom, curious as to what he had in mind.

With a straight backed, regal stride he guides you somewhat further away from the crowd to one of the ornate tapestries hanging along the ballroom walls. He takes a quick look around before peeling back the tapestry and motioning at you. “Come on, hurry up before anyone sees.” he urges, his golden arm gently ushering you in.

It’s dark but as your eyes adjust you can see you’re in an alcove behind the tapestry.

“So this is what you wanted to show me?” you scoff. “There’s nothing here but a blank wall.”

With an impish grin, Lucio leaned in to whisper in your ear. “No, pet. This is what I wanted to show you.”

Without warning his lips crash onto yours, teeth gnashing on teeth, a bit bloody as he bites your lip. His kiss leaves you gasping and breathless as he pulls you in, his tongue slipping into you mouth as your lips part.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never think about that magician again,” Lucio growls.

And that’s what you want isn’t it? To finally forget? No more tea leaves, and the smell of rain or moonlit nights sprawled out on the rooftop.

Now it’s fire and soft fur, the sweet musky smell of roses in the summer sun, and the promise of living deliciously as your hands explore the smooth, superior muscles of his chest. Your fingers tangle in the golden curls as along his pectorals, as your own dress is pushed down to your waist, the shoulder of your dress now snug against your elbows as Lucio cups your breasts, rolling them beneath his coarse, practiced fingers as you keen into his every touch.

"Lucio...Lucio," you whisper as he ravishes your body, his feverish kisses covering your neck and chest, before his canines ghost around your areola, making you shiver. 

"You like that, doll?" He groans as his tongue circles your nipples.

"Y-Yes" your voice shakes while his deft tongue strokes over you again. The fingers of his flesh hand find his way to the folds of your sex, teasing you and touching everywhere except your aching clit.

Impatient, you push his hand to where you want him, but he holds firm, nipping your neck in warning. 

"Not yet, kitten. Daddy wants to play first." 

Teasing your entrance with his fingers Lucio chuckles at hearing needy whines leaving your lips. He slips one, and then two fingers in, growling low at the wetness slicking your thighs and the noises you make for him. Bracing his shoulders, you arch up into his touch,his fingers pumping into you as he devilishly ignores your aching clit. 

“Lucio, please…” You let out a deep frustrated moan,as you rock into his hand. 

“Shh…” Lucio whispers, “Try to stay quiet. At least until we’re alone.”

 He'd pictured making you come undone so many times, and he wanted to savor every moment as he studied your soft features. With your back pressed against the alcove and nothing but a tapestry keeping you from being seen you nod silently, biting your lip as Lucio curls his fingers into you and his thumb flicks across your clit.

“Touch me,” Lucio groans as he grinds against you, pushing you further against the wall. You can feel how hard he is as you palm him through his clothes, making him hiss. 

“Again Lucio," You breathe as you undo his pants, his proud cock presenting itself into your hands, “Tell me again.”

He begs you to touch him, before you start stroking his cock in time with the movements of his fingers inside you and watch him unravel under your touch. This way of making love was different from Asra’s - it was so fervent and needy. Lucio's whimpering, hips thrusting into your touch as you stroke him. “Good...it’s too good,” he growls, his lips never leaving yours. It doesn’t take long for his stuttering thrusts turn into raw unsteady breaths, and those breaths into muffled, masculine groans.

The noise of the party is just outside the rich purple and gold tapestry that created a secret world of passion under its shadow occupied by only you and your Count, his low, distinct voice a heady whisper in you ear.  

 "Please... please let me fuck you my beautiful Magician."

You open your legs in silent approval and with one quick movement he's inside of you. Humping away like a desperate animal. 

"Thank you thank you thank you," he whimpers as he fucks into you murmuring praises and sweet promises."so good, so beautiful."

"Lucio...please. more." You sigh arching up into him.

"Yes, pet. Anything you want. Always what you want" he groans as he fucks harder,

Moving his arms around your body, he brings you close to his chest. His hips slam into you, causing you to bite into his shoulder to muffle your cry at the feeling of his wide head hitting your g-spot. 

“I want you so much, you’re all I fucking think about.” 

He comes, silent and intense as your own orgasm finds you. 

Hurriedly Lucio pulls out of you, quickly helping you dress before arranging his own clothing.

"Follow me, quickly." He growls, his arm locking around your waist as he leads you both from under the tapestry and into the crowd of the ball room. You can only hope you've put your clothing back where it should be. You squeeze your inner muscles tightly when you feel his seed starting to slip out of you, and you blush at the lewdness of it.

Thankfully the bustle around the palace has died down and the corridors are silent as you both made your way to Lucio’s wing. His room was dark and cold when you entered it, and he cursed the servants for their superstitious nature. Although several years have passed since his return, the staff still feared entering his wing.

"Hold on Lucio, I've got it." With a flick of your wrist a roaring fire appears in the fireplace, and you smile in satisfaction.

A blur of white rushes you and in moments you're in Lucio’s bed, naked and breathless as he trails kisses over every inch of your skin. Making you writhe and moan on his fingers once more.

Smirking he removes his fingers, licking them clean while you whine disappointment. You are not empty for long. His cock is nudging at your entrance and you push back onto him, feeling the tip slip in.

“I’m the one giving you all you need. I want you to be mine.” he growls, “Forget Asra, Forget everything else except me.”

He slides into you, pressing a low purr out of you as he bottoms out. His eyes are focused on his length buried inside of you, as Lucio enjoys the mewl leaving your lips.

“Please…”

Gripping your waist Lucio starts moving. He’s sliding slowly in and out of you, letting you savor the feeling of his cock stretching your walls.  Nothing is rushed, but no time is wasted in his lovemaking. 

Hands fisting the sheets, mouth hanging open you cry out in pleasure when he starts dragging you onto his cock with every powerful thrust.  His golden claw digs into your hips, cutting into the skin as he claims you. It’s a slow and desperate burn as the two of you collide.

Lucio watches your reaction when he starts moving faster, going harder to make sure you will fall over the edge once more. He loves the way you lose control when you come, totally falling apart for him.

A lovely and breathless silence fills his chambers as the two of you lay in post coital bliss.

It lays unbroken until you feel him leaving the bed, and your heart sinks. Of course you’re just a one night stand. It was foolish to think any different.

“Please don’t...don’t leave.” Your hand reaches out for him, your eyes clouded with building tears.

You hear a quiet sigh as his fingers slip into yours. “I’m not going anywhere pet,” he soothes. “I’ll stay forever if that’s what you want. I just need to take this off before bed. I’ll tear up the sheets in my sleep if I don’t.”

With one practiced motion he removes his alchemical arm, placing it on the nightstand before returning to your side. With his right arm, he pulls you against his chest before you slide the covers over both of you.

Sleep finds you soft and warm as Lucio holds you. The last thing you see before you close your eyes is his gentle dreamy smile.

The morning afterwards, it feels strange waking up next to someone after spending nearly a month alone.

Even when he isn’t traveling, Asra's usually gone when you wake up--either downstairs working in the shop, trading in the marketplace, visiting the palace or just plain gone. The last time you remember waking up next to someone was your birthday. Asra stayed that day.

But Lucio didn't need a special reason to stay. You were it. "I'll stay forever if you want me to." You remember him saying. The words pulled at your soul, and it felt good even if it wasn't from the person you wanted it from. 

Your newfound desire for the count was a strange feeling that worried you. Suddenly you were panicking, and you began questioning yourself. ‘Oh gods,’ you whisper, careful not to wake the man sleeping next to you. 

 Silently, you slipped out of his bed, white silk sheets slipping away from you as your feet hit the marble floor. Dressing quickly, you stuck your head out the door to peek down the hallway. 

Thankful the coast was clear, and with one final look behind you, you leave-your steps brisk and light as you made your way down the hallway and back to your room, chest pounding as you wondered if last night was a good decision, searching for meaning in every act, every word that was said.

Thank you for reading, and as always your comments are always appreciated! 

P.S. Sorry I didn’t tag anyone who asked. Frankly I have no organizational skills, and my memory is terrible. Please forgive me.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 9

Adva bounce from foot to foot as she led Geralt stall to stall. Surprisingly, Geralt had given her the list and let her haggle with all the market sellers and allowed her to load him up with supplies without so much as a groan. Despite her self-consciousness on her new outfit the former kitchen maiden felt liberated wandering the town in fully fitted clothes, and the fact her skirts didn’t get caught on the sharp piece of wood anymore or trip her up. Trousers were a strange thing to wear but felt liberating. Casting a look up at Geralt Adva could help but laugh as the colossus of a man willing carrying parcels and bundles.

‘What are you laughing at?’ Geralt question from behind the mountain of purchases.

‘I never thought I’d see a big scary Witcher carrying my packages.’ Adva laughed, hurrying ahead, giggling as Geralt head peaked out with a mock scowl.

Adva smiled as she handed the man the coin for the silver and added it to the bundle, ignored the stares and whispers that she heard as they made their way back through the village and down toward the riverbank.

‘Can you believe that he chose her….’

‘Filthy mutant.’

‘Why isn’t  she carring that. Man’s got to have her trained, gotta know ‘er place.’

‘Whore… but he is going to take ‘er down the creek, fuck her against a tree.’

‘They shouldn’t let him within 5 miles of the town.’

‘Look at what she is wearing?’

‘God that girls got a sexy arse…so has the Witcher.’

They made there way through town and toward the little dock outside of the town. It was a shack of decaying wood and wrecked wooded pier that Fisherman and merchants launched themselves from. The Witcher dumped the supplies on the floor by a large oak stump, resting on his knees he began to pull the various ingredient onto the stump and light a small fire from the twigs nearby. Settling down the other side of the budding fire Adva mirrored his pose and began helping him sort the ingredients.

‘Does it bother you?’ The question cut through the pleasant silence before she could even register it was her voice.

‘Does what?’ Great replied not to look up as he blew on the fire. Small streams of white smoke curled up before disappearing into nothing.

‘Them calling you things behind your back. Didn’t you hear them?’ Adva furrowed her brow as the man continued huffing into the twigs.

‘I am a Witcher…we hear everything. Don’t you mind.’

‘Course I do. But then again, what do I care what ignorant people think of me.’ Adva answered.

‘Hmmmm.’

‘I don’t think you’re a filthy mutant.’

‘How would you know. I did buy you. Snatch you away from all you ever known.’ Geralt growled, resting his gloved hands on his thighs, golden eyes staring intensely at her

‘You did. I was and am angry at you. But I don’t think you’re a bad person; you saved me when you could have let Tradi kill me and then kill him.’

‘Hmmm’

It was amazing how much a Geralt could convey with a simple hmm. Range from content to annoyed, angry to happy. Adva was confused. The mood of the Witcher wherever changing, on the road, he would bring her a freshly roasted rabbit or an extra blanket but with his next breath growl at her. She was almost beginning to think he cares for her; this stupid charade was enough to get her thinking that he cared for her safety, there was no other reason he would want her to pose as his wife. Maybe in the next town, she could pretend to be Jaskier wife and could avoid Geralt altogether.  

Shaking her head, Adva cast her eyes down fiddling with the strip of silver into powered fillings. Geralt looked over at her golden eyes burning into her as he watched she shave down the silvers and crushing them into a fine powder between two stones. Adva was a diligent worker, a bead of sweat started to form on her forehead, pants of hot breath puffed through her lips as she pounded heavily against the rock, with every hit her breast jiggled attractively in her blouse framed by the corset.  A straw curled escaped her mane of curls; he yearned to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

‘Ah fuck….I didn’t… fuck.’ Geralt scowled himself.

‘Could you tell me how to make the charges’ Adva smiled up weakly as she spooned the powder onto the leaves.

Wordlessly, Geralt measured the various ingredient into the leaf bundles and found Adva following his every move, replicating it with the other bundles. The work was methodical and measured, precise. They worked in focused silence, Geralt took all the bundles and forced them into wooded containers and cut the fuse. Adva followed his lead and began cutting the fuse from like pieces of wick

‘Here’ Geralt said softly covering his hand over hers to adjust the length of wick she was cutting to an inch longer. Adva eyes trailed up the man’s hand, up his arm to rest of the man’s face who was staring intensely at her. A wave of energy pulsed between them. It was the same feeling when they first met, the feeling that made her drunk and lightheaded. Now however it was more intense whenever he touched her a surge of electric forced its way through her, but even with the glove covering his hand, she could feel the force lash against her skin, building and building, reaching for something at the centre of her body. The stream next to the couple, stilled, no rolling waves of small animals causing ripples against the water. Just perfect stillness. Droplets of water rose from the surface of the water hanging in the sky like a diamond. Fish swirled in the large orbs of water, in the small droplets, some had flowers, water Lillies and brooklime stood ornamental in the drops of water.

Adva and Geralt hand-turned in sync to watcher the spectacle, it was beautiful. In the sky above the cloud received back, and the overwhelming heat shone down at them. The wind died in the air, leaving them with the perfect summer day weather. The energy buzzed excitingly between them, and a hum rung out in the girl's ear with deafening ferocity. Panicked, Adva snatched her had away violently panting hard. Geralt watched amazed as the droplets sunk back to the water soundlessly and the waves began to appear once again, the cloud rolling back into sight and the gentle wind picked up again.

‘What is hell is wrong with me!’ Adva screech looking down at her burning hand. ‘My power has never been this strong, with what happened this morning and now this…’ Adva begin to babble unintelligibly. ‘Maybe Tradi had the right idea…’ Adva paced the small patch next to the bank

Geralt stood and stilled the pacing girl with a hand resting on her shoulder. The hum was back but this time soft and gentle, soothing her as he looked up at the Witcher. An unfamiliar warm smile warmed his face as he looked at her tenderly, his lips parted several times but no words formed. There were concern and frustration in his eyes, but his actions were comforting to her, he didn’t reach for his sword or threaten her, just smiled at her. Stepping closer, his clothed hand slide to her hair, while he craned his face down. Adva watched frozen as he his face inched closer, eyelids slowly closing and thick lashed fluttered his skin again. Her eyes started to shut slowly, almost as if they were unable to tear themselves away from the sight in front of her when Geralt eyes flashed open, no longer the golden orbs but a deeper amber replaced them, like fiery lava but they didn’t rest on her; instead, they opened up to a cave mouth a little further down the bank.

‘Stay here, if I am not out in 5 minutes, run back to the town.’ Geralt gripped the curvy women arms and twisted her round to stand back against the stub as he pulled the charges from the floor and rushed toward the cave.

‘Geralt’ Adva called after him, but he had vanished from sight.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3 minutes. The white-haired man had been gone for 3 minutes. The longest three minute of her life. Chewing on her thumbnail, Adva paced. She had busied herself with clearing away their supplies which had consumed all of the minutes. The seconds past slowly as she watched the mouth of the cave.

‘Lady Adva’ a voice called pulling her away from the vigil of the cave.

‘Oh, Sir…If you are looking for Geralt, he has just gone into the caves.’

‘No…No I was looking for you actually.’

‘Me?’ Adva frown deeply as the man approach further.

‘Yes, I feel the need to discuss something with you. I fear for your safety.’

‘Safety?’  

‘You aren’t married to that Witcher are you? If he has stolen you away from your family, I can help you, little dove.’

Here was a chance to make her way back to Brightwater. All she had to do is open her mouth and plead for help from this man. She opened her mouth, but the running water caught her eyes. All her life, she had been forced to bend to other people will, to serve them like a usable tool to be thrown away or sold to the highest bidder. For the first time in her life, she felt powerful and free, the magic within her surged and flowed freely and even in the circumstance of how she ended up with Geralt she was… happy almost.

‘Of...Of course, he is…’ Adva started, but a mighty explosion blew out from the cave. The pale brown puff of dirt and dust rose from the cave and steadily filled the air.

‘Geralt! GERALT!!!’ Adva screeched as she rushed toward the opening to be firmly pulled away by Miska’s strong arms.

‘Adva stop…Stop. His gone…god knows if any of the creatures survived. Adva…Adva listen’ Miska shook Adva from her hysteric, his nails digging deep into her arms.

‘Get off your hurting me.’

‘It will be okay…come on…come with me.’ Adva tried to twist her way out his grasp.

A garbled sentence chocked out of his mouth as he let her arm slip out of his grasp. A hideous green creature emerged from the water, slimy and grim. Seaweed and sludgy slid of the body, or what you would call a body, a thick trunk of toxic green scales and webbed hands and feet. Gnashing teeth snapped against the air filling it with nightmarish shrieks. The beast sniffed the air homing of the thin bead of crimson leaking from the ten half-moon dents in her arms. A blood-curling scream filled the air as the lurched forward. Another and another emerged from water till half a dozen surround the couple.

Miska flinched back, foot catching in an upturned root, smashing himself unconscious on the stump of the tree. Fearful eyes watched as the creature inched forward, snarled and biting at the air as they moved. Flexing her fingers, Adva tried to calm her racing heart, with a deep breath, she contorted her hands and summoned a swirl of water towards the beasts. The monsters stopped, startled before a bellowed roar shook the ground, the creatures shook off the water and lunged once again toward her.

‘Miska…help please.’ Adva whimpered, fearing to take her eyes away from the creatures. The man groaned lightly before sinking into a deep unconsciousness.

Adva could feel the rancid breath against her skin. The smell was enough to make her retch, fishy like a 5-day old catch and the smell of decaying vegetation. A whimper escaped her mouth as all seemed lost. The hoard of creatures posed readied to attack, glistening claws to glinted murderously in the sun. The drowner took a deep sniff and stopped, tilting its head. The other copied and halted their movements and every so slightly edges back. A whine chorused throughout, as they scrambled back. Every now and again, one swiped forward with a barked forward. Adva dragged up another shot of water and latched it toward the cowardering downers, sending them back toward the opening of the cave.

The swish of a blade cut through the air. Unholy screams echoed across the walls as the sound of meat slamming against the stone with a wet smack. Out from the smoke, a bloodied and angry Witcher appeared from the dust, growling. The beast gave a war cry as they rushed at him, claws brandished. Adva was amazed as Geralt manoeuvred between the drowners, swishing his sword elegantly as he moved. His combat was an art, a dance of brutality and speed. When the dust had settled the carved-up bodies of the drowners lay on the floor, blood soaking into the ground.

‘You hurt?’ Geralt gruffly barked.

‘Let me phrase that again; your hurt’ Geralt snarled as he tore his gloves off with his teeth and ran his fingers over wounds.

The wound where merely scratches, nothing more than a trickle of blood split. Geralt inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply. The overpowering scent of Adva invaded his senses; it was a calming smell, but then the pungent smell of the treasurer, forces itself upon the Witcher’s nose. His scent was not unpleasant, a mix of old paper and musk, but it crawled its way over the women scent as if trying and failing to overpower hers.

Geralt released the women are and with dark eyes cast his eye over the landscape, his trained witches scene taking everything in and replaying the events in his head.

‘Coward of a man he touched you..’ Geralt steadily advanced on the unconscious man, flexing the sword provocatively.

‘Geralt stop…please.’ Adva stepped between the Witcher and the unconscious Miska,

It was a pathetic attempt, Geralt, if he wanted could push her across and skewer the treasure without any effort at all. Adva had her hands firm pushed up against his chest feeling the straining muscles, and the deep rumbled rolling within his chest. It was almost a primitive sound, a sound that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. A foreign feeling pooled at the bottom of her stomach and warmed her in places she didn’t even know she had.

‘Please…it doesn’t matter. Can we just leave.’ Adva looked up at Geralt who in turn gazed down at her. 

The Witcher was silent for a few moments as he repeatedly inhaled before resting his forehead against hers. Adva had to stop herself from gasping at the intimate position. Staring up, she watched as the Witches eye fluttered closed, and he inhaled deeply.

‘I can smell you.’ He moaned, rubbing his forehead against her more, causing a shiver of pleasure to run down her body.

‘Arghhh….’ A pained groan sounded from the ground cause Adva to jump away.

Geralt snarled at the man, sheathing his sword and hoisting him up to his lapels, shaking him roughly. With blood splattered against the face, the Witcher looked like death himself. Miska squirmed under the hold, his feet dangling a right two foot off the floor.

‘If you EVER touch her again. The only thing they are going to find off you if that pitiful cowardly cock nailed to the town square. Got it? GOT IT!’ Geralt threatened lowly.

‘I wasn’t… doing anything…’ Miska struggled in vain.

‘That why she has hand marks on her arm… You are going to pay my bounty, and we are going to leave at daybreak tomorrow, and if you so much as look in her direction again I am going to rip your stomach out through your nose… Now march. You are paying me in full.’ Geralt snapped, throwing the man to his feet.

So I have been on a roll, I am now up to chapter 11, who my beautiful beta is slowly proofreading. I will drip feed them down. I am very excited by chapter 12/13 😉 Things will start to pick up the pace when we get there

Once again please stay safe, I do hope you are all able to get the essentials and not put at too much risks!

Please please please leave a comment or a review! They mean the world to me.

[alright--okay]

you ever been to a basement show? pt. 5

tsukishima kei x reader

summary: Tsukishima sees you everywhere, and for a big school thats weird. And it’s not like he’s gonna do anything, that’d be even weirder, but one day in your shared lecture he sees you wearing a shirt with some small band’s name. A band he know. And well, now he has to know who you are.

word count: ~2.2 k

a/n: the first five chapters are already on ao3 so imma post them here real quick, hope anyone reading enjoys!

read on ao3!

pt. 5 You Must Be Fun at Parties - Forests

Tsukishima awoke to an alarm that wasn’t his. It wasn’t far off, just a preset phone alarm, but it wasn’t his preset phone alarm. He wearily lifted his head, his glasses were still on his face and had left painful, no doubt, bright red, indents on his face.

At the silencing of the alarm, he turned his head to see your own sleep-droopy eyes focused on your phone in hand.

“You ready for recitation?” you asked, making him release a groan, getting a laugh from you in response.

Fuck. Tsukishima was not prepared for anything that was happening right now. Alright well, I’m waking up in the bed of someone mildly- you stretched your arms high above your head and released a loud yawn beside him- … moderately attractive and nothing even happened, good job, Kei, living the college dream.

“I tend to wake up earlier than necessary so you could try to run home before it starts,” at this Tsukishima ruffled around in the sheets to find his own phone to look at the time, ignoring the worried texts from Yamaguchi for now.

“Yeah I could probably make it,” it would be a tight fit but Tsukishima needed a moment with his thoughts that wasn’t fogged with your presence, nevermind the fact he’d have to go the rest of the day in yesterday’s clothes. You gave a nod, standing off by your bed waiting for him to collect his thing.

“So um… yeah,” you gestured to the door, going to walk Tsukishima to the entrance of your apartment.

As soon as Tsukishima walked through your doorway he made eye contact with Yachi. Her eyes were wide, obviously not expecting him to have stayed the night.

“Hi, Tsukishima,” she said.

His face felt hot, “Hi, Yachi,” with his backpack slung over his shoulder he quickly made his way to the door, “Well, see you soon, y/n,” he vaguely heard your goodbye through the shutting door.

~~~~~~

“WHAT IS HAPPENING!” Yachi immediately turned to you when the door shut behind Tsukishima.

“Nothing! Nothing is happening!” you quickly reassured her, sliding into the chair beside her, “we were listening to an album last night and just happened to fall asleep! I swear,” you let out a weary sigh, resting your head in your hand.

“It almost sounds like you want something to happen,” before Yachi finished her sentence you were shaking your head.

“No, no, that’s not it,” you were becoming more desperate to get your point across as Yachi sat there with a growing smile, “Tsukishima is a friend and spent the night with me in a platonic fashion and the fact that he is almost two meters tall has no effect on me.”

“You know he’s been that tall since high school? Wanna see him with short hair?”

You buried your head in your arms, “I didn’t need that information,” you lifted your head slightly to look at a grinning Yachi who was already pulling out her phone, “yes I want to see him with short hair, but make it quick I have to get ready.”

~~~~~~

Tsukishima tried to quietly open the door to his apartment. He had already texted Yamaguchi that yes he was fine and now all he wanted to do was shower and get changed as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t be late for his recitation. He could not be questioned.

“Look who's home,” Kenma was sitting on one of the couches in their living room, a blanket draped over his shoulders and laptop audibly straining to run in his lap.

Tsukishima internally sighed in relief, Kenma wouldn’t question him, “Hey,” he responded, already turning towards his room.

“So you were at y/n’s?”

So today is when Kenma decides to get talkative, “Yeah, um, I was helping her with a paper, ended up getting kinda late so…” he shrugged, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible, “but I have to leave soon so I’m just gonna… do that,” Tsukishima continued to his room.

Luckily Yamaguchi had an early class today so Tsukishima easily gathered his things and ran through his routine.

As Tsukishima passed through the living room again to now leave the apartment, he was stopped by Kenma.

“Yamaguchi wanted me to tell you he wants to have another gathering of sorts to watch that new movie on Netflix with everyone. And I’m sure either he texted her or Yachi will let her know, but y/n is invited.” Kenma gave him a seemingly blank stare but Tsukishima knew better. Kenma was observant, that was his thing, and Tsukishima was determined to not give away his feelings.

“That’s nice, I’ll bring it up to her.”

“Good to hear,” Kenma continued his stare.

Tsukishima gave a nod as he left the apartment, feeling that somehow he had been beaten.

~~~

“Oh! Yachi and y/n are here, I’m gonna go let them in,” Yamaguchi pocketed his phone from his position slumped on the couch, moving to go and meet you and Yachi at the front door.

While Yamaguchi left the small apartment to let in their friends, Akaashi turned to Tsukishima, sitting on one end of the other couch, “It’s nice you and Yamaguchi are hanging out with Yachi again.”

Tsukishima nodded, temporarily distracted by the noises coming from the kitchen where Kenma, Kuroo, AND Bokuto were making popcorn (because apparently microwave popcorn was a three-person job), “Um, yeah. We were all so close in high school,” Tsukishima let his voice taper off. He wanted to say that those four friends he made in high school were some of the strongest bonds he ever made. That he didn’t know where he’d be without them, and being with Yachi and Yamaguchi again was like he was back in simpler times (even if the real simpletons were off hitting volleyballs on much bigger stages).

But Tsukishima didn’t say this. Because feelings are hard and Akaashi seems to know anyway if the small smile he gave is any indication.

“y/n is a nice addition too,” Akaashi continued with his gentle smile.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend,” and that was it wasn’t it? You were getting closer to not only him, but his friends. You lived with Yachi and the last time you were over you just clicked with all these people that have known each other since high school.

Tsukishima couldn’t let that go and he didn’t want to ruin your chance at friendship with these people, so yeah. Friend it was.

“Hello, everyone!” Yachi called from the doorway. Yamaguchi held the door open as you and Yachi made your way into the small space, removing your shoes.

“Thank you for having us,” you chimed in.

“Happy to have you guys!” Kuroo said around a mouthful of popcorn as he slipped in the living room, Bokuto following close behind with the bowl cradled in his arms, also munching.

Kenma came up beside Kuroo, not-so-gently smacking his head, throwing him into an attractive coughing fit, “You don't even live here… but you guys are welcome here at any time,” he reiterated with his own small smile.

You and Yachi gave genuine smiles as Yamaguchi began herding everyone to the couches. Bokuto settled beside Akaashi, Kuroo following into place beside him to stay connected to the popcorn with Kenma trying to squeeze in next to Kuroo (although he basically ended up in the man’s lap).

Yachi took her seat at the other end of the couch Tsukishima was on so the last spot in between him and Yachi became filled by you.

You leaned slightly into his space, “Hey, what movie are we watching again?”

Tsukishima suppressed a small smile, “Honestly not sure.”

“Yeah, Yachi was no help either. I-” You were interrupted but Yamaguchi.

“Anyone need a blanket? I’m gonna grab a beanbag from my room, and Tsukki,” Yamaguchi made meaningful eye contact with him, obviously trying to convey something, “See if anyone wants wine.”

“Okay,” Tsukishima slightly drew out the word as he turned to the rest of the group, “Who wants wine?” With everyone giving some form of agreement, Tsukishima heaved a sigh and got up to go to the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” you said with a laugh, also making your way to the kitchen.

The two of you shuffled through cabinets trying to find eight cups that even remotely resemble wine glasses.

“This is sad, Tsukishima,” you said staring into another cabinet as Tsukishima found a large, cheap bottle of rosé in the fridge, “People are gonna have to drink this out of mugs.”

“What’s wrong with that? A mug is still a type of cup,” Tsukishima said with a smirk.

“I hate it here,” your wide smile gave you away, “Grab those,” you pointed to the other mismatched mugs and glasses you managed to find in the cabinets so you could transport them to the group.

Glasses (and mugs) were handed out, wine was poured, and soon everyone was nestled in blankets, waiting for the movie to start.

And yeah, ‘friends’ was working out pretty well.

~~~~~~

“Bro, don’t expose me like this!” Bokuto screeched, smacking Kuroo who was full-body wheezing at this point.

How you got here was a mystery. One moment you were drinking wine out of a mug, sitting between your best friend and a new friend (who only a few days ago, you woke up next to), and watching a movie amongst people you were growing to see as friends.

And now Kuroo was saying Bokuto liked to be spanked. It was safe to say too much wine had been consumed amongst all of you.

“This is a healthy part of friendship-”

“No, it’s not!”

“Bro,” Kuroo continued, “I love you with my whole heart, and so,” he locked Bokuto’s head in his arm, staring into his eyes, “I feel comfortable talking amongst friends, about these very personal things.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Yachi whined, you and her had started laying on top of each other at some point during the movie and had maintained your position.

“Yachi!” Kuroo now turned to her, releasing Bokuto and sitting forward, “What are your results? This is a safe environment, we don’t judge here,”

“My what-”

Akaashi now spoke up, “That BDSM test, I dunno why but we all took it together at some point. It asks a lot of questions and gives you a percentage for different um… well, kinks that you fit in.”

“Oh, I-” Yachi’s cheeks were quickly turning red.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Kuroo resumed, “You wanna know my top result? Ninety-nine percent baby-”

“Kuroo please don’t-” Tsukishima pleaded.

Kuroo let his body fall back into the couch, he raised his arms above his head and overlapped his wrists, “Rope bunny.”

At this point, you couldn’t help the laugh escaping your lips.

“And Kenma-” Kuroo was stopped by Kenma’s hand grabbing a chunk of his shirt.

“Think wisely about what you're about to say.”

Kuroo shut his mouth with a lazy smirk until Kenma removed his hand. He turned to make eye contact with you and then began mouthing something. And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was how overexaggerated Kuroo was moving his lips, but you couldn’t understand a single thing and it only made you laugh harder.

~~~

After that whole conversation, your group continued to talk for hours, bouncing from topic to topic; all of you warm and giggly from the wine and being around friends for so long.

Even though you had only known them for a short period of time, every single one of them made you feel welcome and spending nights like these with them could really let people bond.

It was the wee hours of the mourning at this point, everyone crawling to their ‘beds’ for the night. Bokuto and Akaashi were laying on top of each other on one of the couches; Yamaguchi, Kuroo, and Kenma crawled into beds; and Yachi was sprawled on the beanbag that had gone through multiple occupants throughout the night.

It was down to you and Tsukishima, sitting on opposite sides of the same couch, facing each other with your legs filling the space in between.

“Your legs are too fucking long, man,” you pointed out while his foot was hitting your thigh.

“Not my problem,” he said, now deliberately poking your thigh, making you laugh.

“Please stop,” you continued giggling, pushing away his entire leg, “I don’t wanna wake anyone up,” you said in a quieter voice.

“Eh, they’ll survive,” he gently patted your leg before standing up and retrieving a blanket and then dumping it over your head. You startled at the sudden loss of vision, but quickly pulled the blanket away from your face to meet Tsukishima’s smirk, “I’m gonna head to my actual bed but you’ll be okay out here right?”

Meeting his eyes you could see the genuine care, yeah he was smirking like an absolute prick, but you knew at that moment that if you said ‘no’ he would do anything to get you to that okay.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay out here,” you wouldn’t be able to hold down your smile if you tried, “Thank you, Tsukishima,” you hoped he could tell you weren’t only thanking him for the blanket.

“No problem, y/n, goodnight,” he turned around to his room, releasing a deep yawn and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Goodnight,” you said to his retreating form.

Laying back into the couch draped in the borrowed blanket, you fell asleep warmed by wine and your growing connection to this group of people.

[just-horrible-things]

Escape Attempt 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Cowritten with @khalwrites, King Edwyn and the ‘verse are hers.

‘Verse: Kethrys Timeline: a couple of weeks into Ariadne’s captivity

---

Ariadne can’t hope to track the passing of time. She can guess maybe, from the progress of thirst. Many hours, well into the night, but not so many as multiple days… probably. Every time she thinks of it, she is not certain. Pain makes it hard to be certain. Her whole body hurts. The dislocated joints she hangs from are sheer agony. She needs it to end. She needs it so badly, badly she has no control.

Time drags painfully past. Maybe hours, maybe only distorted minutes. She hangs limp in the chains, and despairs.

When His Majesty finally comes back for her, terror is stronger than hope. She wants to be let down but she doesn’t want to be let down if it means more torture. She might wonder why he hurts her so much but she knows why -- just for that shivering, gratifying thrill. The King is like her but worse -- and much, much more powerful in every regard.

Not so long ago she would have tried to stifle the sounds of pain and fear. But fuck dignity, she’d rather give the King what he wants sooner rather than later. She doesn’t fight the whimpers that rise in her throat. “Majesty --” she greets him “-- please please -- I’m sorry -- I -- I’m sorry please --” her lungs won’t expand, she has to drag in frequent breaths between the pleas“-- please I won’t -- do it again -- please mercy --” He steps close, drinking in her misery. His hand cups the side of her face. “-- please --” she whispers “-- Majesty -- please --”

His fingers trace across her cheek. He brushes her hair back gently and tucks it behind her ear. Perhaps it’s a good thing she can barely lift her head, or she’d flinch away from him. Flinching is punished, she's learned that. “I was merciful.” His tone is soft. Ariadne’s stomach turns, thinking of the brutality that he calls merciful. “And you betrayed my trust. Why should I be merciful again?”

Ariadne sobs breathlessly. She knew, when she tried to run. She knew that if she was caught it would be -- beyond nightmare. And she was caught. “I’ll -- I’ll be better --” she promises “”-- I’m so -- so sorry -- ple-ease--!” The King smiles. His fingers brush across her cheek again and linger at her temple, tracing half-circles, dancing across the skin. The memory of agony is just beneath the surface, starting to stab behind her eyes. She whines. She hurts so much but it can be so much worse, will be so much worse. “Have you learned?” “I have learned I -- won’t ever again --” she gasps “-- please --” She won’t, she means it. She doesn’t know why she ever thought it would work. Of course he is always watching. Somehow. There’s no escape. She can’t imagine --

His magic floods into her skull and the thought is gone.

Nothing else he does to her can compete for sheer pain. Her head shatters into a hundred glass-edged shards of agony. Her body burns as if alight, as if tearing itself apart, as if dunked into molten iron. She doesn’t feel herself convulse. Doesn’t feel her body arch and her feet come off the floor, doesn’t even feel the ligaments tearing in her arms. She doesn’t feel her breath stop in her lungs, or hear the wild, mindless shriek that tears out of her a few seconds later. She feels only the pain.

He stops, and her body goes limp. “Apologise.” The sound is distant and muddy. Her vision is dark and swimming. Her mouth moves, but she knows no words to give to him. He doesn't give her time to find them.

Agony slams down and whites out her world.

When it eases, her scream slides into a wavering, drawn-out whine.  “Apologise,” the King orders, somewhere far away. She can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t see. The sounds she makes aren’t sentences, aren't even words. Just fragmented syllables. “Breathe first.” A quiet command. “A few deep breaths for me.” That she can obey and she does. Her air-starved body is eager to suck in gasp after desperate gasp. 

His magic crashes through her mind again.

She can’t hear herself scream, but the sound is piercing and drawn-out and raw with suffering. She wails until her air runs out, keeps trying to scream as her throat closes around a strangled hiss. A convulsion, an involuntary breath, and she screams again. Over and over until her voice cracks and breaks.

When he breaks it off, thought does not return instantly. Sensations other than pain creep in piecemeal. The roughness in her throat as she whimpers and gasps. The terrible weight of her body. Her torturer’s voice. The words are noise to her first. Rough-edged fragments of syllable turn slowly in her scattered mind before coming clumsily together to convey meaning. He said apologies -- a word she understands -- and waiting. “I’m sorry --” she forces out weakly. “I’m -- so -- sorry -- Ma-ajesty.” She's still struggling to breathe when his fingers return to her temple, brushing feather-light across the stinging skin. She keens in fear, but can muster no more fight than a few weak twitches. “Do you think those few measly words are acceptable apologies?” Apologies -- acceptable? “No -- Majesty.” Never good enough, she is never good enough. “I -- sorry -- was so -- ungrateful -- I -- I’ve learned…" 

Reason starts to return as she falters her way through the pleas. She remembers who she is, and who he is -- the King she thought she idolised -- who owns her and breaks her and knows everything she thinks. "I won’t ever -- again." Whatever it is she did. "I’m so sorry -- please --" She tried to run, that's what she did, and failed. "-- please, please forgive me…”

As she stammers and shudders, the King walks behind her, leaving her swimming field of vision. She feels touch at her torn shoulder, and doesn’t recognise it until the full length of the braided leather trails across her back. The whip. To drive home her failure. How lowly she is. Oh dead gods, not like this...

“You’re going to offer me ways to be better,” the King informs her. “To show you’re truly grateful for what you’ve been given. That you’re grateful for the honor to work with such a high profile prisoner. That you’re grateful for my luxuries and my protection.” The whip cracks behind her and makes her twitch -- once, twice. “I’ll stop when I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson and then I promise to heal you.”

He promises. An end in sight -- more agony first but an end.

“Yes Your Majesty.” Her head is crowded with splitting, blinding pain. She falls back on phrases that are rarely wrong. “Thank you Your Majesty.” Another crack, another flinch to wrack her with pain and flood her with dreadful anticipation. “You have the chance to speak after each lash.”

The whip slams into her back with terrible force. The impact hurts, and the jolt of being thrown forwards against the chains is worse. A cracking scream, and then she is scrambling to guess what he wants her to say.  “I - I-I - won’t -- won’t e-ever defy you again--!” “No, Ariadne. You’re offering ways to be better, remember?” Sickening, false concern threads through his tone. “I want to heal you, not hurt you more. So tell me how you plan to improve.”

A second lash, just as hard. The tip curls round her dislocated shoulder and cuts into the swollen flesh. Ariadne screams and sobs. “I’ll --” sob “-- work better -- harder --” sob “-- ge-et results.”

The third lash lands across the back of her legs. The weal burns badly, but the jerk on her arms is a little less. “How can you prove you’re grateful?” “I -- I -- tha-ank you and --” a high, scared whine slips out “-- every time -- enthusiasm --?” 

Across her back again. Less force than the first. She still screams. “Breathe before you answer.” Permission not to answer at once. She breathes desperately. “I’ll -- I’ll kneel and -- kiss your boots -- I’ll -- I’m very grateful please--!” “Kneeling, yes, but that’s a given.” She can hear the irritation in his voice and she wants to cower. “Why did I bring you back here? What is your purpose and how can you serve it?”

The whip crashes across her shoulders again and she howls loud and long. What does he want her to say? “Hh-- h-here to -- nnhh --” whine, gasp “-- here to i-interrogate your prisoners -- Majesty--! I’ll -- I’m -- grateful to serve I --” Her voice climbs in pitch as she fumbles, anticipating the next lash.

But the King walks round in front of her, starting to roll up the whip, and she feels a surge of desperate hope. “Keep going.” “I’ll hurt anyone you say and not ask questions and thank you for the --” gasp “-- opportunity and --” gasp “-- do my work with enthusiasm and say thank you and -- and -- never disobey -- and --” Words come harder as her lungs empty of air. Anger flashes in the King’s eyes. She panics as he puts his hands on her shoulders. A sharp push down and she convulses, trying to scream, suffocating.  “I’m practically giving you the answer Ariadne,” he snarls. “What have you been doing this whole time? What is the task you’ve been set to do? Enthusiasm is the gratitude but I need to know that you will do better with your goals.”

Her body spasms as he releases the pressure. Her eyes roll in their sockets. “Breathe before you answer,” he orders coldly, “don’t make me pull the whip out again.” Those breaths come as frantic, high, strained whines at first, but her throat does loosen. “I’ll -- get results --” she promises as soon as she can, “I swear -- she’ll scream she’ll -- tell you a-anything you want -- I -- I’ll break he-er--!”

He pauses. Smiles. Fractional pressure on her ruined shoulder and she sobs harder. “Her?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. For several seconds, she doesn’t understand. Then: “It!” she squeaks, “-- i-it I meant it I sorry I no ple-ease please--!” He pushes down hard and she thrashes wildly. Bones crack beneath his hands - collarbone, rib, shoulder joint on the side that wasn’t destroyed. She wails and wails, feeling the promise of mercy slipping away. “Once more,” he demands. “And choose your words more carefully.” “C-c--” she chokes out “-- c -- mh -- p-ple-e -- nnh --” “Take a deep breath,” he orders, letting up very slowly on her shoulders. Her whole body shudders as she obeys. “Again. Now, tell me what you are going to achieve for me.” The answer is just out of reach. “... please ...” she whimpers. The pressure increases. “I -- I -- I --”  “Breathe.” Deep breath. “I -- the, the dragon.” Desperate, sharp-edged hope. “The -- I’ll -- I’ll break h-hhn -- it, it -- I’ll -- I’ll break i-it for you Majesty -- I-I will... ” He takes his hands off her, and she can only sob.

Seconds later, the chains release and drop her body to the floor.  She crumples, boneless, as pain consumes her world yet again.

Continue

[yesmrskarsgard-onhiatus]

My Dirty Dancer Part 6 - Regret (Bill Skarsgård AU)

{Authors Note ~ I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe! So we've had some smut and now we're here for the aftermath, even with Bill Skarsgård the walk off shame isn't a good one! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and remember, DMs and Asks are always open! Sending lots of love! ❤️}

Previous Chapters ~ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Tag List ~ @simplyrucas @billofourtime @walkxthexmoon @butterscotchseventeen @bskarsgardlove92 @b-afterhours

"Fuck." You whispered as you pulled your denim shorts on and caught the tail of your shirt in the zip. Immediately you turned your head to look at Bill, making sure you hadn't roused him from his sleep. You were standing beside the bed on which he was sleeping, getting ready to quickly and, as quietly as possible, slip out of his cabin and into yours just before dawn broke. Looking at him now he seemed so young, and so innocent; nothing at all like the cocky self-assured guy you knew would appear as soon as he left his cabin. Sighing, you turned back to your shorts and sorted them out before straightening up and running your hand through your hair. It was about 3 in the morning and all you wanted now was to sleep in your own bed and put off thinking about this, what you'd done, until you woke up later on. "So you just planning on leaving me without saying anything?" The voice that made your heart sink sounded tiredly from beside you. "Well honestly you looked so happy sleeping I thought it'd be cruel to wake you." You whispered back to him, slipping your shoes on and giving his tired self a quick look before walking over to the door. "Y'know, I'm usually the one sneaking off in the early hours." Bill's groggy voice called to you across the room, and you groaned a little before you walked out into the night.

~

You frowned a little as you felt light shining on your closed eyes. "Y/N? Come on you've got a morning practice for your lunchtime performance in half an hour." Lizzie called softly over to you and immediately your eyes shot open. The performance. The visit to Bill's. The touching... Your mind was flooded with all of that information as soon as you fully awoke. "Shit..." You sighed, looking over to Lizzie who was sitting on the edge of your bed. "Yeah ok...Thanks honey." Stretching, you began to sit up, suddenly noticing the marks Bill had left on your shoulder and pulling the bed sheet back up over you. "Uh...I'll see you at breakfast Lizzie, ok?" She nodded with a small smile before exiting the room. You watched her leave, making sure the door was closed behind her before you slipped out of your bed. Immediately you saw yourself in the mirror on your bedside table. Bill had really done a number on your neck, and it was gonna take a good amount of concealer to hide it for you performance. You groaned at the thought, but forced yourself to stand and get ready to head down to breakfast as quick as you could.

~

After breakfast (which had been Bill-free thankfully) you headed over to the staff rehearsal studio to go through your Mambo routine with Jake, your partner for the routine. Just before you walked into the room you saw Gemma, one of the other instructors. "Hey Y/N! I'm glad you're here!" She called over to you as she approached you, smiling. "Little change of plan with your practice and performance. Jake has injured his ankle while teaching last night and he won't be able to dance with you today, meaning we've had to switch things around. You've got a new partner. Hope everything goes well!" Waving to you, she made her way down the corridor. New partner...Your stomach twisted inside you at the prospect. No...Fate couldn't be that cruel. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted the bag hanging on your shoulder and walked down to the rehearsal room, frowning as you heard music coming from inside. So your new partner must already be in there you thought, pushing to door open to reveal your last-minute partner. "Well hello, sweetheart."

Speak, or in this case think, of the Devil, and he shall appear unto you... All six feet and four inches of him; with captivating green eyes, magnificent cheekbones and a strong jaw structure that should be illegal on any man. Damn it. "Bill?" You exclaimed, a look of absolute incredulity on your face. This was ridiculous - were you really that unlucky? Yes. Of course you were. "Yes, Y/N, that is my name. And I am your last-minute dance partner so can we get on with this?" He answered, still smirking a little bit folding his arms as he waited on the other side of the room for you, in a black vest today. Which for some reason you noticed. "And there was no one else who could have filled in for Jake?" Your mouth had said it before you could stop it and you immediately felt a little guilty. Bill's expression however barely changed at your words, and he simply shrugged his shoulders. "Johnny's got to fill in for George while he's doing private lessons and Pete has to fill in for me, everybody works here, you know that by now. Besides, I'm really the only one qualified enough to do this routine with you, considering the particularly penetrating connection you and I have." He winked slowly at you.

Sighing heavily, your shoulders dropped a little as you silently (partially) accepted the situation, rolling your eyes as you fully entered the room and shut the door behind you. Then, as you made your way over to Bill, you slipped your bag off and dropped it by the window sill before turning to him. You watched him eye you now you were closer to him, and wished that you were wearing something that wouldn't serve as such a feast for his eyes. It was just a black leotard with the same coloured tights underneath, a common rehearsal outfit, but Bill had a new way of looking at you that screamed the fact that he knew exactly what you looked like beneath your clothes. And he wasn't going to let you forget it. You groaned a little and folded your own arms. "You've got the right music I take it?" With his smirk still stuck on his lips he moved closer to you, reaching past you to turn the record player on. "Good enough sweetheart?" He quipped, and you had to nod - it was right, annoyingly so. A look of triumph pulled at Bill's statue-like features, and the familiar want to slap him arose in you once again. "Great. Now let's get on with this."

He immediately grabbed your hands and pulled you over to the centre of the room, then moved you close against him, placing one on his shoulder and wrapping his fingers around the other. His other hand snaked around your waist and you immediately glared up at him before you began your steps, trying to ignore the close proximity of your bodies and simply focusing on keeping in time with the rhythm of the song. You didn't look up to him. "So why'd you leave so early this morning, mmh?" Bill's deep voice permeated the music and your concentration, and you had to move your gaze from being fixed on his shoulder to his eyes. That was a question you really didn't want to answer. "Because I wanted to get out and back to my cabin before anyone realised where I was." You spoke plainly back to him, pulling back and moving into the turn of the routine. He pulled you back close to him again. "And by anyone you mean Lizzie?" Spike and crossbody lead. "Yes, I do. She's warned me about you so many times and-" You were lifted by your waist and you immediately had to wrap you legs around his waist. "You completely ignored everything she'd said?" Bill finished your sentence, and you gave him a quick scowl before you let your upper half fall backwards and he pulled you round and back up to him. "Well you didn't exactly help things." You spat back, unwrapping your legs and turning under his arm as the routine dictated. Then he pulled you back against him, his arm around you. "Hey, I only said the truth, it's not my fault if you can't control yourself around me sweetheart."

You scoffed, pushing yourself away and forcing yourself out of his grasp. "Not just last night you dick! What about everything you've been doing over the past month? Are you trying to say that you weren't doing that simply to break me down and get me to fuck you?" You hissed to him, shouting over the music, your eyes glaring harshly at him. "It was obvious you wanted it Y/N! Ever since your first night!" He shouted back, conveying some real emotions for the first time that morning. "You-You're just fucking unbelievable!" Turning away from him you stalked over to the record player and turned it off, grabbing your bag as you did so. "If Lizzie ever finds out about this, Mr Pearson is gonna find out about all the holidaymaker's daughters and wives you've been fucking. And I don't think you want the owner of this place to know. At all." You spat back to him as you brushed past him, barely sparing him a glance.

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For (8/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5 / ch 6 / ch 7

[CHAPTER 8/?]

Nervous is an understatement– no, it’s the understatement... of the century. The ride up was easy, she purposely cancelled their check in meeting yesterday to be sure they at least had work to talk about for the two hour car ride. Her plan worked, and their conversation rarely shifted into anything remotely personal. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be friends with him, but this entire “weekend away” will be easier if they keep things strictly business. She was reluctant to text him last night– typing and retyping her messages a dozen times. All it took was five minutes of back and forth and all her nerves settled and she found them talking in an easy rhythm.

She doesn’t want to analyze what that means.

Emma isn’t sure what to expect for the rest of this weekend, but as Killian pulls the car up to the lobby of the hotel Regina booked for them, she feels like she wants to vomit. She hasn’t stepped within 5 miles of a UFC event since she found out she was pregnant with Henry and while she knows most of the focus will be on the fighters, she can’t help the pang of anxiety at the thought someone might recognize her.

Killian parks and tells her that he’ll unload the car if she doesn’t mind checking them in. She nods and he smiles brightly, seemingly oblivious to her nerves. The hotel is nothing fancy, your standard Holiday Inn, but it does have a lobby bar which she’ll definitely need after tonight.

People are definitely going to recognize her. Breathe.

She walks up to the front desk and a sleepy-looking man clicking behind the computer. She has to clear her throat to snap him out of his tired trance. “Oh, good morning, ma’am. How can I help you?” He punctuates his sentence with a yawn and Emma chuckles to herself.

“I’d like to check-in me and my, uh, co-worker, please. The rooms should be under Mills?”

The man nods and types a few things into the computer. “Ah yes, a double room for Mills Management already paid in full. I presume you are Miss Swan?”

“Yup, that’s me. There should be a second room for a Mr. Jones… under the same reservation?” The man furrows his eyebrows and Emma’s stomach drops– this cannot be happening.

“I’m sorry Miss Swan, I only see one reservation under that name.”

Emma sighs and searches for her company card, “That’s no problem, could we just book a second room please?” As she finishes her sentence, she feels Killian at her side.

“Everything alright, Swan?” She nods. She catches herself subconsciously fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket while the tired gentleman continues to click away on his computer and knows she doesn’t have the resolve to explain what’s going on right now to Killian.

When the worker finally speaks, Emma’s fear materializes in front of her, “I’m sorry, Miss. It seems we are full tonight, there’s some sporting event here this weekend that’s had us booked up for a while. That’s probably why your company could only get one room…”

Emma feels Killian stiffen at her side once he realizes what’s going on. She’s surprised when he speaks, “Surely you must have something available, mate. A last minute cancellation?”

The man shakes his head, “I’m sorry, sir. Yours is the last room.”

Emma walks away from the counter, the world suddenly seeming rather small. She hears Killian ask the front desk worker for a moment before she sees him sit next to her. When did she sit down?

Killian grabs the tip of her chin, forcing her to look at him. She swears there’s a spark at his touch, not to mention how comforting his presence is overall— get it together, Emma. He’s speaking but she hasn’t been paying attention, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I simply said we can find another hotel, love. I’m sorry this was all messed up, Swan. I can call Regina and get this figured out.”

The genuine care in his eyes, and probably the overuse of those damn pet names, is the only possible explanation for what she says next. “It’s fine.”

Killian practically falls off the uncomfortable lobby couch they’re sharing. “I’m sorry, love?”

“It’s fine. I mean, as long as it’s fine with you, I’m fine. We’re both adults, right? And we drove all the way here and no other hotel is going to have space, plus weigh-ins are in an hour so we don’t really have time… I’m just saying it’s all we’ve got and we’ll be fine. I can take the couch or we can switch off or we can just be fucking adults and– if you want to cut me off that’d be great?” She’s used to him stopping her babbling but he’s just staring at her like her face is melting.

He shakes his head and it seems to bring him back to reality, “Sorry, love. Aye, you’re right. It’ll be fine.”  She can’t help but let out a rather obnoxious laugh when his hand immediately finds the back of his ear. The tips of his ears turn bright red as his hand snaps back to his lap. “Uh, right then. I’ll go talk to the front desk then, aye?”

All she can do is nod. Emma’s not sure what came over her, but for a split second sharing a room with Killian didn’t seem like that bad of an idea– she’d be lying if she said her opinion changed in the following seconds. She sort of zones out, probably in some sort of rash decision shock, until Killian is back by her side, this time with a pair of keys and their suitcases.

The rush of disappointment that runs through her when she thinks he actually managed to get two seperate rooms is honestly ridiculous. “Oh, uh, did they end up having an extra room?”

Killian looks confused until he follows her eyes to the two keys in his hand, “No, lass, just thought it best we both have a key.”

She sighs with what she refuses to recognize as  relief and seriously hopes Killian can’t read the actual minefield happening in her head right now. “Oh, ha, duh! Should we drop our stuff off and head out then?”

He eyes her warily– most likely shocked she agreed to this at all, let alone is handling it so well, “Aye, lass. Room #404. Let’s go.” He smiles at her and her stomach does another flop. She tells herself what she told Killian, they’re adults they can handle bunking together for two nights, but she ignores the overwhelming feeling of anticipation in her chest that won’t seem to settle down.

. . .

As they walk back to the car after dropping luggage in their room– their room – Killian is still replaying the last ten minutes in his head. He subtly pinches himself to make sure this isn’t some crazy dream he’s about to wake up from.

He knows it’s not— the slight brush of her knuckles against his as the walk is the realest thing he’s felt in ages.

Fuck.

The car ride to the weigh-ins is more awkward than Killian thought it’d be, about halfway through, he can’t help but break the silence, “Look, Swan, I know this isn’t ideal. I can call Regina and we can surely figure–”

“I’m terrified to step foot in the arena again.”

He’s a bit shocked at her confession; he’s grateful, but unsure why Emma keeps letting him in. She’s playing with her sleeve again and he can’t help but reach over and stop her— her fingers automatically wrap around his and he feels every ounce of oxygen leave his body. Somehow he manages to speak, “Swan, it’s going to be ok.”

“How can you be so sure? What if people start asking questions? What if I accidentally slip up about Henry? What if this is a total disaster?” She’s looking at him like he holds all the answers and while he’s positive he doesn’t, for her he’d try to figure out anything.

“None of those things are going to happen, love. You’re going to be a brilliant manager and -should you want to be- a happy sight for UFC die-hards, and when this is all over, you’ll go back to being a secret super mom. I have no doubt.” Killian’s not sure he’s capable of doubting Emma.

She’s smiling now— it’s soft and humble but it’s a smile all the same. She looks down, studying the end of her sleeve intently before speaking quietly, “You really think so?” Killian can feel her looking at him again— his senses continually on high alert when she’s around.

He checks the road before briefly finding her eyes— he needs her to know he’s sincere, “I have yet to see you fail.” She looks stunned at first— perhaps still not used to being believed in and he can’t help but wonder what made her this way— but then she nods resolutely and he feels as though he’s succeeded at least minuscully. It isn’t until she squeezes his hand, in a silent sign of appreciation, that he realizes it’s still entwined in hers. He squeezes back before giving her a soft smile that he hopes conveys everything he knows she's still too skittish to hear aloud— and he’s too afraid to admit. She smiles back and turns to look out the window.

He’s fascinated at the way they can communicate without saying a word.

The rest of the relatively quick drive is quiet, but comfortable unlike before. He practically felt the tension leave the car and when he turns into the parking lot, for Emma’s sake, he silently hopes it doesn’t return. It’s not that he is annoyed or unwilling to help her, but rather that it pains him to see Emma so unsure of herself— especially when he’s never been so sure of someone in his life.

This enigma of a woman turned his world upside down in a matter of two weeks, and while that should scare the hell out of him, he finds himself excited by all the what ifs.

Killian pays the parking attendant and finds a relatively close spot. He turns the car off but decides to let Emma lead— noticing she’s giving herself one hell of a mental pep talk in that passenger seat. In a feeble attempt not to rush her, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the UFC tag on Twitter. It’s mostly predictions for match ups and betting on whether or not Nottingham will actually make weight but it keeps him busy until she finally speaks up.

“Ok, let’s go.”

He looks up and can read the nerves all over her face, “You’re ready, Swan?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She gives him the same determined nod from before and gets out of the car. He follows suit and takes a deep breath before walking with her towards the arena. He uses the short trek to fall into character, almost forgetting to be “Hook” in Emma’s presence.

She makes it so easy to be just Killian— to want to be just Killian.

They take one more deep breath in unison before walking through the large glass doors into the brightly lit arena.

. . .

The first thing she notices is the familiar smell of concession food, followed closely by the absolute blinding light of the arena’s fluorescents. She resists the urge to grab Killian’s hand like she did in the car, but she could really use a sturdy reminder she’s not alone. She hazards a glance to her side, the reminder of his presence enough for now. They make it maybe 300 feet without anything happening.

Then, with the flash of a camera, it feels like everything is happening at once.

“Miss Swan!” “Over here!” “Savior!” “Emma Swan!” “Why did you leave?” “Why come back now?” “Why Hook?” “Hook!” “Jones!” “Mr. Jones, quick question!” “Swan! Jones! Right here!”

It’s worse than she imagined and she can’t help but wish she had somewhere to hide. Sometimes it’s a good thing Killian can practically read her mind.

She feels him tower over her and her nose bumps into his back. “Stay behind me, Swan. It’ll be alright.” She nods against him as he pushes through the crowd. She hears him mutter a few “excuse me”s and “no comment”s, not giving the press much of anything. He’s also doing a good job of remaining mostly calm. As his manager, she should probably be encouraging him to talk to the press, but it’s hard to want to give them anything when they act like this. She hates the press.

He can make a statement later– right now she just wants to get to their seats.

And they do, the usher stopping the press at the entrance to their floor seats. As soon as they walk through the tunnel, Killian finds his place back at her side and she smiles at him gratefully, not sure she’s calm enough to form words right now. He makes sure she’s settled before sitting next to her.  “You alright, Swan? I despise those bloody pricks.”

She chuckles, his words mimicking her thoughts almost exactly, “Ha, me too. No harm, no foul though.” Emma watches the tension leave his body and can’t help but notice the muscles in his neck relax. She realizes she’s staring and speaks up to fill the void between them, “Thank you, by the way.” She looks away, not used to being taken care of by someone other than the Nolan’s or Ruby.

“Don’t mention it, love. Now I should probably make some sort of statement–” He scratches behind his ear, seemingly hesitant to leave her.

“Yeah, for sure… I suppose I should be telling you that.” He smiles and she nods, an unspoken reassurance that she’ll be alright.

It takes almost a half hour before Killian returns, Emma is nose deep in predictions for tomorrow night’s card and jumps when he clears his throat. “Jesus, Killian. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Apologies, lass. Your purse seems to be saving my seat.” She laughs as she moves her purse– studying him as he sits. Killian seems to be in a much better mood than before and she hopes that means his statement went well.

“How’d it go?” She’s not sure why she says it so nervously, but she can’t help but feel this intense energy between them whenever there isn’t something concrete to talk about. It’s weirdly comforting and not at all unwelcome.

Another thing that scares the shit out of her.

“Quite alright, Swan. Don’t worry, Regina won’t fire you yet.” He winks and she realizes she wasn’t asking as his manager but rather as a genuinely curious friend. She supposes she should be more focused on her actual job than the man she’s supposed to be doing it for, but she can’t seem to shake him. She doesn’t want to. She rolls her eyes and he smiles brighter. “In all seriousness, love. It went well. I talked up my brilliant new manager and how excited I am to get back into the octagon.”

She stiffens at the mention of her, nervous the questioning went further than she’d like it to. She trusts Killian, but the paparazzi are brutal.  “Relax, Swan. I didn’t take any questions.” He has this uncanny knack for always knowing what to say– and what not to say. He ends the conversation and steers it into more comfortable waters, “Popcorn?”

She snorts, not realizing he’s had a red and white striped bag in his hand this entire time, “Thanks, but isn’t concession popcorn a huge step outside your strict training diet?”

He throws his head back in a genuine laugh Emma’s only been able to witness a handful of times, “Yes, Swan. Butter and salt are most definitely not allowed.” His gaze turns sincere and Emma can’t help but gulp a bit. “I didn’t do it for me.”

She knows on the surface they’re talking about the popcorn, but deep down, she also knows he’s implying so much more. Everytime Killian talks, it’s laced with innuendos and double meanings, and while Emma should be scared that those double meanings are becoming more heartfelt than flirty, she can’t find it in her to be anything but excited. For someone who has run her entire life, her heart seems pretty intent on staying right here. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and as weigh-ins begin, she finds comfort in his presence, completely forgetting about the fact they’re headed back to the same hotel room and into uncharted waters.

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 19

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2602

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome back, and thank you so much for being patient with me as I moved, started a new school year, and started my new jobs. I would love if you left a comment or an ask. Feedback is always appreciated, like and reblog if you liked reading this. Thanks so much for supporting my little passion project! P.S.......there’s smut in this chapter ;)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19: Human Influence

The library’s eerily quiet as Michael stares at you, trying to decipher whether this is some sick joke on your part. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but can’t help how his heart (unnecessary, but still a part of him) begins to race upon hearing your words. This moment, that sentence, is all that he’s wanted to hear from you since you first warmed up to him. It seems unreal to him that this is happening now, and Michael briefly wonders if having to put up with Tate and Jim--they couldn’t come up with better names?--has driven him mad.

“Tell me that you’re not joking,” he says quietly, as if speaking too loud will change your mind. Smiling, you bring your lips to his ear.

“I’m not joking.”

Michael pulls away from you, blue eyes impossibly wide as his mind races. “(Y/N), are you being completely serious? This is what you want?”

“It is.” You grab his hand, squeezing it reassuringly in the hopes that this is welcome news. “I mean, there’s a few things we need to work out, such as me being able to still retain my humanity and not being fully tied to the Underworld, as well as how I’m going to stay here without almost dying again, but yes, this is what I want. I want to be with you, Michael. I love you, and I’m meant to be yours just as much as you’re meant to be mine. There’d be no greater honor than ruling alongside you, if that’s still what you want?”

“If that’s still what I want,” Michael repeats, his stunned expression finally changing into the smirk that you love so much. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, darling mine. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“So you’re okay with me wanting to still have my humanity?”

“I would move all the stars in the sky if you asked me to do so. Any concession that you ask of me, I’ll give you. You’ve--” he breaks off, grabbing your face in his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips. “You have made me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Have I?” you tease, kissing him as you grind your hips against his. 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, and you let out a noise of surprise when he picks you up and nearly throws you on one of the library’s long tables. Parting your legs to let Michael stand between them, your lips connect to his again. He doesn’t hold back, nearly brutalizing your lips with the pressure he’s applying on them while his tongue quickly slips into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in his long hair, a constant subject of fascination for you. Every part of you that’s touched by Michael makes you feel as though you’re burning, fire trailing in his wake. Much to your chagrin, he pulls away from you.

“Let me show you just how happy you’ve made me.” Michael sinks to his knees in front of you, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as you watch him hook his fingers around your panties and quickly pull them down your body.

“Michael,” you say lowly, staring at him intently.

“Shh.” His breath fans over you as he eyes your core, already dripping with arousal, hungrily, making you squirm under his intense gaze. “Let me worship you, my queen.”

Your head falls back when his tongue circles your clit, tracing shapes on the sensitive bud as Michael sets out towards showing you how happy he is. He takes his time exploring your most intimate parts, finding your whines and moans almost as sweet as the taste of you. When two of his large fingers slip inside of you, you clap a hand over your mouth to keep from yelling out. 

“Don’t hide those delicious screams from me,” Michael mutters against your core, making you jolt against him. He hums his approval when you moan loudly, rewarding you with a curl of his fingers against your walls. “Let everybody hear just how well their queen is being taken care of.”

“Oh my God!” you say through gritted teeth, burying your fingers in Michael’s hair as if you can’t decide whether you want him to stop or continue.

“Hmm, we’ve already established that I am, in fact, your God.” 

Michael sucks your clit into his mouth, humming a tune as he continues to finger you at the same time. Even when you cum with a shout and a near-painful yank at his scalp, he continues to lap at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. You have to steady yourself with both arms when you stop shaking, staring down at Michael with wide eyes as he puts his fingers, covered in your release, in his mouth.

“You, my darling, are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” When you reach for Michael, he stands and meets your lips with his, smirking as you keen at the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck me, Michael, please,” you nearly plead with him to finally take you right here, in the middle of the Underworld’s grand library.

“Oh, sweet (Y/N),” Michael ‘tsk’s, undoing his trousers with one hand while he strokes your hair with the other, “I’m not going to fuck you. I’m going to make love to you.”

Your gaze softens as you look up at him above you, running your fingers over the smooth contour of his cheekbone while he slowly, yet swiftly, enters you. As your jaw goes slack from the pressure and fullness that Michael provides when he’s fully seated inside your walls, you let your head fall into the crook of Michael’s neck. You busy yourself with sucking purple bruises on his smooth ivory skin, trying to channel the sting you’re feeling from his still-unfamiliar size into creating a work of art. His hand grabs at your hair, gently pulling you up to look at him. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” he says sincerely, eyes conveying just how deeply his feelings run. Smiling, you kiss him softly.

“I love you too, Michael.” 

Michael lays his forehead against yours, slowly starting to rock his hips against yours. He was right when he said that he wasn’t going to fuck you: this is the slowest, sweetest, most loving sexual experience you’ve ever had, even with both of you still mostly clothed. Somehow, it’s even more intimate than the first time you and Michael had sex. The sweet words that he whispers into your ear, about how he adores your caring spirit, your radiant smile, the fire that courses through your veins, mean more than any of the prior praises of how tight you were for him. If this is making love, you decide, you never want to stop making love with Michael. 

His hands hold onto yours tightly as he continues to thrust deeply inside of you. If you could, you’d want this experience to last forever. Pleasure, however, wins out, and Michael reaches to rub at your clit with his thumb. Ever the gentleman, he focuses on his breathing and paces himself in order to get you off first. You’re determined to make this last, but your body betrays you as you clench around Michael and cum, mouth open in a yell that falls silent on your lips. Michael’s hips stutter as he reaches his own release, arms nearly giving out from the exertion as he remains inside of your tight heat. 

When you manage to breathe normally again, you wrap your arms around Michael and pull him down on top of you. You know he’s worried about crushing you, sensing his hesitation, but your vice like grip prevents him from moving off of you. He remains in the same position with you until he’s satisfied that you’re not going to inadvertently choke him when he tries to get off of you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving your messy hair out of your face. Grabbing his hand and kissing his fingers, you nod.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better than I am right now,” you admit.

Michael conjures a wet cloth from nothing, gently cleaning you before he cleans himself up. You reposition your dress, pulling it back down from where it was hiked up to your hips. Michael only has to tuck himself back into his pants and smooth out his clothes before somehow looking just as regal as he did before you made the mutual decision to defile a library.

“Michael,” you hold out your hand expectantly. “My underwear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Michael winks, snickering when you lightly smack his chest.

“Cocky bastard,” you hiss, your attempt at looking angry failing when Michael pulls you to his chest. 

“Shall we, my queen?”

“I think I could get used to you calling me that.”

Michael smirks, crooning softly in your ear, “oh, my sweet, darling Queen (Y/N), Lady of the Underworld. My (Y/N).” You close your eyes as he holds you, a content smile on your face. 

“I wish we could just stay like this.”

“I do too, love. But we do, unfortunately, have other duties to attend to.”

“Such as?” You turn around to look at him. 

“Well, I believe that I may have a way to make it possible for you to come and go as you please, without fear of dying if you remain here too long.”

“Oh?” You’re a little apprehensive, and it’s not at all surprising that he can tell. 

“Just trust me on this.” He holds out his hand, looking at you expectantly. “So? Care for a little adventure?”

You’re basically a pro at transmuting by now, the action being as natural as riding a bike. You’re bathed in sunlight, standing by the banks of a rushing river. Just when you’re starting to wonder if Michael’s brought you Above, the blazing eyes of Charon meet yours as he champions his ferry of souls down the River Styx. 

“Does he get any less creepy after being here for a while?” you ask.

“No,” Michael deadpans. 

“Figured. So?” You look around, trying to find some sort of ominous cave or treasure chest, something that would hold the key to being allowed to stay in the Underworld. “What are we looking for?”

“Come here.” Michael grabs your hand, walking with you along the river bank. It would almost be a perfect day, were you not in the Underworld looking for some magical cure-all. 

He leads you into a grove of trees, all ironically flourishing in their environment. Their branches stretch far above your head, the trees either having been here since the beginning of time or just an elaborate illusion that Michael created. There’s so many, enough that just walking a few paces into this grove makes it feel like you’re in the middle of an endless forest. The leaves, full and overlapping, form a canvas to shield from the harsh mid-afternoon sun. You’re not sure if it even is mid-afternoon, or if the sun is constantly like this in this particular part of Michael’s domain, but that’s a question for another time.

“Michael--” you stop upon looking down from the tops of the trees, finding no sign of Michael in front of you. “Michael?”

“Come and find me!” Although his voice echoes all around you, you can’t see him or find where his voice is coming from. 

“What do you mean, come and find you?” Begrudgingly, you pick a direction and start walking.

“Wrong way,” he teases, sounding like he’s right behind you. You whip around, thinking that you’ve caught him, and frown when you come up with nothing.

“You’re annoying, do you know that?” you shout, shaking your head when you hear him laugh. 

“You love it, though.”

Starting to walk faster, you keep your eyes up in an attempt to find Michael. This is a competition now, and it’s one that you’re determined to win. “Michael!” you trill. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“I’m right behind you,” his voice rings in your ear and you grin, knowing that you’ve got him. 

“Ha!” you declare, spinning around to catch him. He’s not there, and you huff. “What--?”

When you turn around, you shriek, Michael standing right in front of you. His face is mere inches from yours, and he’s got a devil’s grin lighting up his eyes. 

“Found you,” he says huskily.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what you were supposed to do.”

“Forgive me for my impatience.” He holds out his hands, which you hadn’t realized were folded behind his back.

Nestled within his grasp lies a fruit. Examining it, the irony of being tempted by such a fruit in the middle of the Underworld is not lost on you. The fruit’s at the perfect ripeness, plump and round in a way that orchard owners around the world would die for. Michael’s ivory skin contrasts with the deep red color of the fruit as he showcases it to you. 

“It’s a...pomegranate?” Michael nods at your guess, smiling as if it’s a gift. “You know we have pomegranates Above, right?”

“Yes, I am aware. However, this is no ordinary pomegranate. Do you remember the first evening we dined together?” It’s difficult for you to forget that night, the one in which you fought Michael (again), ran away, and nearly got devoured by a demon.

“Yeah, of course. You saved me from that demon.”

“Even before that.”

“Before…?” Your brow furrows as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“When I brought you food to get you to break your fast. Can you recall what I said to you then? What binds people to the Underworld, (Y/N)?”

“The fruit that you can only find from a single tree that grows along the banks of the River Styx,” you mutter. “Then this is that fruit?”

“Mhm.” Michael smirks, tossing the fruit to you. 

Fumbling with it, you manage to recover and hold it in your hands. The symbolic weight of this small fruit is far heavier than it would appear to be, and it feels as though you’re carrying the weight of the world in your grasp. This saga has lasted months, and finally it seems like this could be coming to an end. It’s exciting but also frightening.

“One bite,” Michael whispers sensually in your ear, “and you’re mine.” 

You’re entranced by the god in front of you, staring up at him as his thumb traces circles on your cheek. “Wait…” you murmur, trying not to get swept up in your captivating lover.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Not knowing what’s going to happen once I bite into that, that’s what’s stopping me.” Michael cocks his head, obviously confused. 

“Oh yes, the humanity issue.” You push the fruit towards him, your hand touching his chest.

“Michael,” you say seriously. “I’m not going to eat that fruit until I know I won’t lose my humanity and that I won’t be bound here forever.”

He sighs, nodding begrudgingly. “Let me...talk to a few friends.”

“Friends? You have friends?” Michael rolls his eyes, pinching your arm.

“Surprisingly enough, yes. These are old friends, however. We go back hundreds of years.”

“More god friends?” Your eyes widen in glee.

“Yes, but they’re not gods like Madison, Zoe, or myself.”

“So they’re not Greek, then.”

Michael smirks widely, juggling the fruit from one hand to another as he takes immense glee in dangling this secret above your head. “Guess you’ll have to come with me to find out, won’t you?”

//

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[inadaydream99]

Reunited

~ part five ~

A/N - Hey, here is fart 5! I hope you are enjoying this series so far 😊 also, just want to say a huge thank you for 300 followers! I never ever thought I would get so many just from my writing! Thank you so much for your support, it means the world to me 😁❤️

———————————————————————

San’s line of vision drops to looking at the chocolate swriling around his mug in sadness. And all he can think about is the last time he felt this way because of you. In the cafe opposite the park...

“There you are, where have you been?” Mingi cheers as you enter his room. He looks like he hasn’t moved a muscle. “Thank you.” He whispers as he takes the warm mug from you and brings it up to his lips and takes a sip, his eyes shutting as he enjoys the hot chocolate.

“I had a nice conversation with San.” Mingi’s eyes shoot open in surprise to you informing him of why you took so long.

“Really?” You laugh at the high pitch voice that Mingi suddenly speaks in. “You mean San was actually friendly with you?” He continues, choosing to ignore your laughing and wanting to press for more details.

“Well we were friends at one point.” You sarcastically retort. You watch Mingi’s face as he seems to concentrate, thoughtfully placing his drink to the side. “Don’t think too hard, it’s dangerous.” You mock, earning you to be pulled onto the bed by Mingi and tickled in revenge.

Your loud laughter can be heard down the hall and into the living room where San sits alone with his thoughts. His jaw is stiff, teeth clenched, as he hears your little shrieks and joyful laughter. He wishes he was the reason behind them... and that’s when he becomes aware of the jealous enduced knot twisting in his stomach.

~~~~

[From Mingi] Jongho hit me... can I come over?

You snicker at the text lighting up your screen, picturing the pouty expression that is most likely on Mingi’s face, before replying.

[From Y/N] of course, see you soon.

You turn your attention back onto the laptop in front of you, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you stare at the pages of words. You have been struggling to write this assignment, the work difficult and only confusing you the more you try to make sense of it.

Your face relaxes when you hear a knock on the door, your eyebrows becoming unfurrowed and lips morphing into a smile as you stand up from your work set up at the kitchen table and make your way to answer it. Mingi got here very fast.

“Oh... San, I wasn’t expecting to see you.” San shoots you a shy smile as you greet him.

“I wanted to know if you were free tonight and maybe talk, if that’s ok.” You nod at him, a slight awkward silence between you as you try to think of what to say next. You feel a little dazed, like you could be hallucinating and the reality is you have fallen asleep at your desk.

“Oh- would you like to come in?” You offer through an awkward chuckle, opening the door a little wider with your hand, as you see his face contort in confusion upon your spaced out look.

“Actually, I was hoping we could go somewhere else?” San raises a brow at you softly, a hopeful glint to his eyes which makes your heart race out of nerves.

“Um, sure.” You respond with the only sentence that you can think of. Your mind going completely void of everything as you quickly put on your shoes and grab your coat. After locking the door behind you you turn around to find San watching you fondly before you both begin walking, San leading the way as you have no idea where he could be taking you.

~~~~

“So it’s really true that Seonghwa grounded Jongho for braking the sofa?” San nods at you, joining in with your almost cry laughing over Seonghwa being acting as a parent.

San led you to the cafe opposite the park. The very one you had been reminiscing about not that long ago. You were a little, or very, surprised when you arrived, to say the least, but you have to admit that you were having a great time just hanging out with San.

Your conversation is interrupted by your phone buzzing on the table in front of you, your hand reaching to pick it up and read the message.

[From Mingi] (Y/N) where are you? I’m outside and it’s cold...

Your eyes grow wide seeing the message. How could it have slipped your mind that Mingi was coming over?

“San I’m sorry but we need to go. I forgot Mingi was on his way over.” Your guiltly eyes meet his as they caringly look back at you. “Come on.” You rush out, standing up without giving San a chance to respond. He looks a little surprised that you were telling him to come with you, but he doesn’t hesitate, grabbing his coat and following you out the cafe door hurriedly.

“I’ll walk you back and then head home.” He states as he catches up to walk beside you. You glance at him, your eyes conveying a combination of stress and guilt before flickering back to the street ahead of you.

“But I want you to stay...” You quietly admit as you both keep a fast walk towards your apartment building.

~~~~

“Finally, I was- Oh, I didn’t know you were with San.” Mingi is caught of guard as you and San reach your appartment, completely out of breath from practically running back.

“San payed a surprise visit and it slipped my mind you were coming over... I’m so sorry.” You say through heavy breaths, trying your best to get the key into the lock with your unsteady hands.

“Here, let me do it.” San reaches for the key, a cheeky grin on his face as his hand gently skims against yours and takes the key, swiftly opening it. Before you would have rolled your eyes at his expression, but now it only makes your cheeks turn pink.

“Thanks.” You reply a little flustered by the action. Mingi just observes, his mouth slightly agape at what he is whitnessing.

“What the hell was that?” Mingi whsiper shouts, his expression serious, as you are pulled into his side. Could be he jealous?

“What?” You look up at him in confusion, genuinely puzzled by his question.

“You know! With San.” Mingi continues to whisper, quickly glancing at San who is hanging his coat on the hanger and slipping his shoes off, seemingly unaware. “Is there something going on between you?” He asks. You sense his worry, understanding that your sudden 180 flip in relationship with San was a little odd.

“No, we’re just friends.” You whisper back. What you don’t realise is that San can hear you, though he pretends not to, and it hurts him that he has been put back into the friend zone once again. Exactly the place he didn’t want to be.

[fromathelastoveritaserum]

WIP Monday!

Thank you for the tag @chyrstis ! ٩(⁎❛ᴗ❛⁎)۶ Now that I have time, I’m working on catching up with my three (maybe four) fanfictions! ...wait wha?! Why do I do this to myself?? (ಠ_ಠ)

Below are some sneak peeks at my work in progress:

“My Beloved Professor” - Ch20 - Fire Emblem Three Houses

“In Sickness & In Health” - Ch12 - Mass Effect Andromeda

“When Joy Returned” - Ch11 - Far Cry 5 

“My Beloved Professor” - Fire Emblem Three Houses

“Have you been living under a rock?” Catherine asked with a frown, before she added, “You probably have been huh. Well, there won’t be a trial. Lady Rhea's word is law. And as a Knight of Seiros, I’m going to make sure the deed is done.”

“Sounds more like a task for an executioner, rather than a knight,” Byleth remarked without emotion.

Catherine’s brow arched in response. “I’m loyal to Lady Rhea through and through,” she stated  gruffly as her posture straighten proudly upon the saddle.

Ashe shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as he remained quiet. His lime green eyes snuck a glance towards Dimitri, who seemed to be sharing his thoughts; an odd power shift was at play here. 

“A blind man who questions the use of his sword is less dangerous than a man who uses his sword blindly,” Byleth quipped as she kept her gaze straight ahead.

Catherine huffed in response. “And which high and mighty person uttered that?” 

“My father,” Byleth simply remarked.

“Well, we have our mission...be sure to stick to it Professor. I don’t want any insubordination. Got it,” Catherine stated, her bright sapphire eyes now narrowed upon the young woman riding next to her.

Finally, Byleth tore her gaze away from the road to looked directly at Catherine. Face as still as a mask, she merely gave the swordswoman a solemn nod.

‘Damn, I can’t get a read on her,’ Catherine thought with gritted teeth. “Good,” she remarked out loud. Though knight had an inkling she would have to keep a wary eye on the professor.

“In Sickness & In Health” - Mass Effect Andromeda 

“And this is the Medbay,” Sara proudly announced as she lead Evfra into the clean and polished clinical area. “Though, you’ve already been here huh,” the young woman realized as she pursed her lips into a soured expression.

“Yes, he has,” Stated Lexi, in a tone that was a more cooler than what Sara would have expected from the gentle doctor. There was also a foreboding gleam in the Asari’s eyes. The Pathfinder knew that look all to well when she ended up in the Medbay after doing something Lexi had explicitly forbade the Pathfinder from doing.

“I remember General de Tershaav very well, especially on the day he brought you in when you were suffering from hypoglycemia,” Lexi recounted with a pencil thin smile.

“Wait Evfra, you brought me to the Tempest?” Last thing Sara could recall from that mission, was Akksul helping her walk!

Meanwhile Evfra just gave a noncommittal cough for he did not like where this was heading…

“In fact, I remember the General asking me, quite bluntly, whether I was qualified to take care of humans,” Lexi smiled. But, it was the razor thin smile she wore upon choosing the largest sized needle to inject you with. “I must say he made taking care of you quite the challenge. Constantly hovering over you to the point that I had to kindly request the General to step out,” the Asari added, her grey eyes gleaming with the joy of payback.

“You had to kick Evfra out of the medbay while I was being treated?” Sara gawked. She glanced from the Asari towards the Angara who refuse to make eye contact. Ryder’s mouth then snapped shut as she hissed, “I see.” And without another word, the young woman dragged Evfra by the hand out of the Medbay.

She was silent the entire way to her cabin, and Evfra became worried that the Pathfinder was upset with him. Not only had he not disclosed that event to her, but the leader had clearly obstructed the physician from properly taking care of Sara.

“SAM open this door right now” Sara commanded in a forceful voice. As the doors whoosed open, the young woman tugged Evfra in before barking, “No one is allowed to enter! And go on privacy mode!”

Finally the Pathfinder relinquished the angara’s hand. “Sara are you upse…” Evfra began, but he didn’t get to finish his sentence as the young woman raised her toes, pulling Evfra down to her by the scruff of his tactical suit.

“Shut up and kiss me!” She growled throatily before pressing her warm lips upon his gawking mouth...

“When Joy Returned” - Far Cry 5

The heavily wooded forest allowed some sunlight to peek in through its lush canopy. Down below, the smell of damp earth now mixed with the invigorating crispness of spring.

“Joy! Please slow down!” Joseph pleaded breathlessly as he carefully made his way around the large jutting stone maze of the underbrush. The teenager was clearly not used to such activities. Meanwhile, Joy skimmed along the mountainous trail like a jubilant billy goat.

The pair were taking a trip through the Whitetail Mountains as a part of filling out their high school biology field notebooks. The requirement was to sketch various springtime fauna and flora spotted along the trails.

“Come on Joe, come on! It’s just a bit further!” Joy cheered in her seemingly unending energy reserve. She climbed up the stones with ease before turning around and reaching back down to aid Joseph

“Here give me your hand,” Joy offered. But when Joseph lifted his hand up to her, Joy accidently grabbed his mid-forearm, eliciting a cry of pain from the teenager.

Quickly Joy released his arm, worried she had hurt her friend. And as she did so, Joseph’s sleeve slipped down, revealing large purple to yellow blotches of discolored skin.

“Joe...” she gasped. “What are those on your arms?” Joy whispered as she stared, wide eyed down at him.

Joseph quickly pushed his sleeve back down his arm as he looked silently away.

“Are those bruises?” Joy asked softly. “Joe...who is hurting you?”

She remembered that Jacob was Joseph’s older brother and the new worker at the Owens Ranch. But, while she was still just getting to know Jacob, he seemed to love his brothers dearly and wouldn’t lay a finger upon them. Then there was John, the youngest Seed. Gods, Johnny was a little angel who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Actually he began to tear up after nearly killing one!

“It’s...it’s okay Joy, don’t worry about it,” Joseph gently remarked as he heard Joy shift about overhead on the boulder.

“But...” Joy paused. “Alright, I won’t ask...but Joe,” she stretched down her hand to help Joseph properly up the boulder this time. However, she didn’t let go of his hand even once Joseph was standing up on the boulder in front of her.

How do you convey feelings of utmost trust? Within the few short months Joy felt she already knew Joseph for a lifetime, as if they were just old souls reuniting once again in this time period...

Silently Joy reached out to him with other hand and pressed her warm forehead against his as she closed her eyes. ‘You are precious to me,’ she tried to convey with her gesture. 

“Joe, if you ever need help or anything, please let me know,” Joy whispered.

“I will Joy, I promise,” Joseph whispered back as he returned the pressure upon her forehead, as if to say, you are precious to me too...

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @rpgwarrior4824 @angaranprincess @anavakarian (apologies for any double-tags and no pressure!)

And if you would like to be tagged in the future please let me know! :3