#im so tired I just want this quarter to be over with

[mashmouths]

anyone want to pull an edna pontellier with me

[yo9urt]

if a presentation is worth 10% of my grade i can fail it and still pass. right.

[gamblersdoll]

Could u write a sukuna fluff where he helps reader take down her braids and do her wash day 🙈

“and why do you need my help?” he asks, cheek resting on his knuckles as he looks down onto you. “sounds like a task you can do on your own.”

“you said- nevermind, forget it.” you said, walking off and into your own quarters, having a quick mumble rant about how sukuna can be such a ass, asking him help was fucking pointless.

after about half an hour later, you only had maybe about ten braids down.. when you had about a hundred of them bitches. you were already tired, going through the ‘i could rock a pixie cut or bald’ stage of your routine.

“this is all you got done after thirty minutes?” he rumbled, scaring you to no end. “you havent gotten used to me just lurking around?”

“well, i could be almost done if someone could help.”

he rolls his eyes, mumbling about how you were a brat and always had to have it your way. he stands over you.. only making you realize how giant he was, adding context.

“you–“

“ im not dumb, woman.” he said, taking a braid and taking a rattail comb, starting from the bottom. you certain had no complaints, just doing the opposite side and staying quiet.

and would you look at that, you were done after two hours.

“anything you got to say, brat?”he bends to your level, a expectant look on his face. you roll your eyes, hard and you kiss his cheek.

“thank you for helping me take out my hair.” you grumble, fuck the king of curses and that bullshit. he could go fuck himself, so much of you both being ‘equal.’

“do you want me to help wash your hair too, pup?” he teases in a ass manner, but you knew there wasnt any harm.

“i mean since youre offering..”

“that was not an offer!”

[slater-baby]

im a mess right now😞my dog just died…could you please write some comfort?

my dog had a heart disease but he was doing fine…but today he started throwing up blood…he got to the vet but it was too late…his little lungs were filled with blood….im devastated. i went to see his body and he looked like he suffered so much…the vet tried to bring him back but he didn’t….

tomorrow he’s going to be cremated 😞

hello, hon, I am so sorry to hear that your dog passed away <3 I'm sure your dog was loved just as much as family, and I'm sure he took that love with him when he passed. Here's some comfort for you ❤️ sending so much love and hope in your direction!

**small note: I wrote comfort over fluff, so it’s emotionally heavy. Sorry if you wanted something lighter!!

Broken, Together

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

Tags: slight blood and injury, hurt/comfort, reunion, fluff, confessions, flirting, implied sexual content, implied relationship, getting together, literally just straight tension between the two of them Word Count: 5.5k

-

“Hah—fuck,” you groan, not even bothering to mind your volume. Birds—what few of them were left—fly wildly from the tree next to you, running away from the pain of your shivering voice.

Let them, you think, resting your tired face against the plain of rock beneath you, There’s no helping this now.

The rain falls in merciless sheets, pelting you like miniature balls of ice with every minute of this miserable downpour. The river behind you is overflowing now, running red with untreated cuts and gloomy skies, and whirls around your dragging feet with every move, swallowing you up in muck. Listlessly, Scarlet trails of blood follow your path, but you can barely feel it pouring from the gash in your stomach.

You’d given up on walking a long time ago. Compared to the pain in your side, the fracture in your ankle was nothing, but they’re both a unique agony in their own right. You’d walked on the injury long enough, stumbling through the forest with your rifle and helmet. However, one wrong footfall had sent you tumbling down a cliffside, shards of rock and rubble imprinting themselves on every broken bone in your body—and not gently, either.

That had been half an hour ago. You’d barely made it a quarter of a kilometer since. 

The moss of the river bank tears into clumps within your grasp, washing away in the stream as you heave yourself up onto the bank. The scream you let out rings throughout the forest like a siren, and there was no doubt about it now: anyone who might have heard that would be coming soon enough. If they hadn’t trusted the sound the first time, they’d be running come the third.

Somewhere behind you, the war zone rages on. Dropping bombs paint the sky an eerie, smoke-shade of reddened blood. The nightscape is starless, hidden beneath a layer of dust and grime that not even the most powerful of telescopes could have seen through, but you look anyway.

Uselessly, you flop onto your back atop the river, unable to contain the tears of pain that leave you with the movement. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself once more, shakily setting your hand atop your bleeding cut. The treetops dance above you, swaying with every gust of the wind. It’s a gentle movement. Serene, almost. 

It’s not a bad place, you think idly, Wouldn’t mind staying here for a bit…or forever, at that.

Your lower body floats in the stream water. The rain washes away the dirt on your face. The searing pain of your injuries continue, but for the first time in days, you manage to take in a single, clean breath.

No one was coming for you. Your teammates had forgotten you—not that you blame them. If anything, you should be the sorry one. When the bombs had dropped and the five of you had been tossed in different directions, they were hardly the first thing on your mind—that’s not to say they were the last, however. Though, to claim that you’d even thought of them within the last twenty-four hours would be a stark lie. No, you were much too focused on your own dripping blood to do anything more than sit in the darkness and lick your wounds.

You sigh, trying desperately to find a star between criss-crossing tree branches, but your mind ranges on.

You didn’t come for them.

So they wouldn’t come for you.

If they aren’t already dead, that is, your mind helpfully supplies, Forty-eight hours alone, wandering through a war zone without backup and with no ammo reserves to speak of…better men had died from less.

Your fingers slip when another swathe of blood pours from the wound.

Well, at the very least, if they were well and truly gone, you’d probably be joining them soon, you smirk at the thought, Apologies can be saved for then…

The idea should have been a grim one, something that made your skin crawl and tears spring to your eyes. Yet, you find that it does the exact opposite. Instead, it falls over you like a worn blanket, painting yellow strings of warmth up your exhausted skin. An easy smile overcomes your face, and with little more to spare, you let your eyes fall closed, imaginary clouds swirling in the mass of darkness. Like that, you fade into the grass and rocks, fall away into the clutches of the earth underneath you, until it’s impossible to discern where the moss begins and where your camouflaged body ends.

Every breath is a trembling affliction, some sort of well-endured soreness. And for what seems like hours, you relish in the idea that soon enough, this will all be over. Soon enough, you really will fall back into the place you come from, back into the cradle of the distant star your very atoms were born inside of.

The moss is like a pillow.

The rocks feel like home.

The sky hangs overhead like a mobile, and with it, everything spins…

…and spins…

…and spins…

Until it doesn’t.

A loud snap resounds from the edge of the riverbank, and before you know it, something solid rams itself against your shoulder, falling headfirst into the stream at your feet. All at once, what feels like five hundred pounds of weight crushes down on top of you, replacing your comfortable end with a set of broken ribs instead.

“Fuck—,” you scream, automatically shocking into action despite the agony curling in your stomach. Uselessly, you try to push yourself back up the bank, but whatever—or whoever—just interrupted your reverie has a different plan.

A set of shaking hands grapple at your clothes, protruding from the water like a leering monster. They thrash though the waves, yanking you back down the rocky bay. You shriek as they pull your body into the water, nearly shoving you beneath the surface as they stagger to their feet. The shadow of them—the enormous, looming ink of it—consumes you when they emerge, haphazardly digging their claws into the collar of your uniform.

“Don’t—” they pant urgently, like they’d been suffocating mere seconds before, “Don’t you dare fucking move, you hear me?”

Flecks of water and spit rain down on you with his every word. Through the haze of your pain, you note that his voice is hollow and grisly, like he’d been choking up blood for hours before he came. With wide eyes, you clutch at his meaty forearms, trying to shove him away.

“Don’t fucking move!” He shouts again, jostling your body in his grip as he stumbles over his own two feet, “One more move, and I swear—swear to god, I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

Something cold and wet is shoved up against your forehead. The barrel of the gun shakes with the force of his shivering. Between words, white plumes of breath fan over your face, and just barely, you can make out the shine of his irises through the fog of night.

“Woah—woah,” you tremble, limping lifting your hands in surrender, “I’m—I’m unarmed. Swear to god. I’m…fuck, I’m dying anyway. Couldn’t—couldn’t hurt you even if I tried…Swear it.”

For a few seconds, only the stunted sound of your shared breaths taints the air.

“I swear,” you whisper, like you still had anything left to plead for.

The man above you pauses, breathing deeply, and for a second, you take in the look of him. His face is…

Well, it’s a mess, to put it lightly. He’s covered in blood—watery rivulets of it—from bones to teeth, gathering in the slits of his gums. His lips are blue and split down the middle, front teeth broken crudely. His hair is matted with sweat and dirt, and mottled wounds cover his hollowed cheekbones. And his eyes are…Well, you can’t even see them. They’re swollen shut almost completely, a shade of purple so dark you might have mistaken it for black. Judging by the way his muscles contort around his words, he’s feeling every ounce of the violence inscribed upon his face.

“Just let me go,” you ask him gently, “Let me go, and—and I swear I won’t follow you. The allied FOB, it’s—” you point over his shoulder into the tree line, “It’s back that way…at least, I think. Whatever country you’re f-from, they’ll take care of you.”

The longer you continue speaking, the more skeptical the man becomes. Though, ‘skeptical’ might be the wrong word to describe it. If anything, he seems…confused. Shakily, he lowers the barrel from your forehead, and the purple skin around his eyes draws tight for a split second, almost as if he were trying to squint at your face.

“Rogue?” His voice is gentler this time, softer, “Rogue…is that you?”

At the sound of your callsign, your blood runs cold, brain shocking back to awareness.

“How—” you grab onto his forearm, ready to fight for your peaceful death if it comes down to it, “How do you know my name…”

A sharp breath escapes him, and all of a sudden, he’s holstering his gun, grabbing you under the arms to haul you up. His broken lips curve into a hazy smile.

“‘Cause—’cause it’s me, Rogue!” he huffs, a shivering laugh following the noise, “It’s me, Ghost.”

At that, you force your eyes to open impossibly wider. Puzzled, you squint at his ravaged face, fingers tightening around his wrist.

“Ghost?” You furrow your brows, “You’re not—you’re not Ghost. Ghost doesn’t show his…”

“Rogue, just—just look.”

He reaches down towards his belt, haphazardly sinking to his knees in the muck when your weight becomes too much for him to support. Like that, both of you fall back into the freezing lap of the stream, an odd peace overcoming you. It takes him a minute to find it. However, soon enough, he pulls a sheet of sopping, black fabric from under the surface, shakily holding it up in front of his face.

There, against a muddy background, stands that familiar white skull. It’s chipped around the edges and somewhat sad looking, what with the water. Yet, there’s no denying it. That’s Ghost’s mask, the same one you stared at over a hand of playing cards or over a couple drinks at the bar. Instantly, his hands hardly feel like chains around your wrists anymore.

“Ghost?” You huff, sitting up with more strength than you can remember having in the past forty-eight hours.

The man—Ghost—can’t contain the smile that overcomes him, not even when you’re sure the pain of it must be blinding.

“Yeah,” he answers happily.

“Ghost!” 

Without even thinking, you grab him around the strap of his vest, yanking him into a tight hug. The water pushes in between your bodies, in between your beating hearts, and yet, his warmth sustains you. It survives you. You, with your cold hands and trembling body. Him, with his warm chest and blue lips.

“Holy shit,” you laugh into the crook of his shoulder, feeling more alive than you have in days, “How did you—Fuck, where have you been? Are you hurt? How are you?”

“Fuckin’ better now that I found you, love,” he chuckles, locking his arms around your waist. You can feel him resting his chin against your shoulder, stubble scraping over your cheek. It’s weirdly close, to feel him like this—to feel his arms, chest, cheek, and smile bleeding life back into your body after you’d gone so long without it.

“God, me too,” you exhale, relaxing inside of his grasp. You’d never considered it before, but something inside of the way that he holds you—like he’d sincerely missed you all these hours—is so comforting you can’t even begin to describe it. No, you can only melt into it, counting every beat of his heart as they come and go against your sternum.

“You’re…” Another sharp breath; this time, worried, “You said you’re dying…?”

His arms weaken around your body, almost like he wanted to pull back and look at you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you hook your arm around the back of his neck, pressing him into your shoulder. Some part of you—small and nagging—doesn’t want even an inch to separate you any longer.

“I—I don’t know,” you shake your head stupidly, some dumb smile on your face, “I guess…I thought I was. It definitely felt like it. But I’m not so sure anymore. God, now that you’re here, I…”

Your words trail off, their meaning too heavy for you to shoulder alone. Unconsciously, your fingers tangle in the hairs at the base of his neck, and you squeeze them lovingly, chest stuttering with a sort of happiness you never thought you’d feel again. 

Unwillingly, you can feel as tears gather in your eyes. They burn against your freezing cheeks when they fall.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Ghost,” you whisper, voice trailing off into a small cry. 

He doesn’t say anything—he can’t. The only response to your words is the way that his muscles tighten, the way that his chest rises and falls rapidly when he pulls you in all the harder, holding you steadfast against his thrumming pulse point.

“Me too, love,” he rasps, voice choked, “Me too.”

For a minute, it all fades all. From the fires raging in the distance, to the death you thought was waiting so near, they all fall limply in the face of your embrace—in the face of the emotions coursing through you.

Maybe you wouldn’t die here.

You didn’t want to die here.

Not anymore.

Not now that you have him.

Not anymore.

“Fuck,” you pull back with a sniffle, crudely wiping snot away from your face. You reach out with your dirty hands, gently cupping his swollen cheeks. He winces at even the smallest touch, instinctually grabbing your wrist to lighten your touch.

“Where have you been?” You ask with a grimace, looking at his battered body, “Are you dying?”

“No,” he chuckles, but it cuts off into a small grunt. He drops his face, tucking the mask under his belt, before reaching up a finger to play at the cut of his split lips.

“Hope not,” he huffs gleefully, lifting his face into the light for you to look at, “Probably got a pretty good concussion going on. Head sure fuckin’ feels like it. But…I think m’alright.”

You nod, pulling your hand away from his cheek to run it through his buzzed hair, checking for cuts along his scalp.

“You don’t look like it,” you joke, “I mean, I’ve never seen your face before, but…I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

At that, Simon laughs heartily, not even trying to resist the grin on his pale lips any longer.

“Yeah, that,” he sighs, running a hand over his jaw, “After the first fire run, I ran into the tree line. Wasn’t much cover anywhere else, so I figured that was the best shot at survival—and I wasn’t wrong. Only problem was that I was running in the wrong direction,” a grim countenance overcomes him for a minute, “Ran East for just a minute too long, accidentally ran straight through their bloody lines. For what it’s worth, the bastards didn’t notice me for a few hours…but, once they did…”

He sighs, rolling his eyes—like this were all just some stupid inconvenience for him instead of a life-threatening injury. You resist a laugh. Simon was like that, always confident in himself and his abilities, even when one simple mistake could prove so deadly.

“Some prick from Kortac thought it’d be a right laugh to get a look under the mask…paid for it with his life. But, not after he banged me up good,” he continues, “He tried to smash a rock over m’head, but couldn’t manage it, so he brought my head to the rock instead. That was yesterday. The swelling’s flared up pretty bad, and when I tried to put the mask on, the faceplate felt about two sizes too small…”

He huffs, looking down at his sodden mask.

“Figured I’d rough it for the night,” Simon chuckles, “Hasn’t been too bad. Mask woulda gotten in the way, anyway. M’eyes are so swollen I can barely fucking see…Didn’t even know you were there ‘till I tripped right over you.”

He looks down at your body and at the swirls of red blood cascading through the ripples around you.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” he breathes, reaching down to idly put pressure on your seeping wound.

“It’s alright,” you grit, hurriedly grabbing a hold of his shirt at the sudden sensation, “Better—than the fucking stab wound, I’ll tell you that…Though, you could do to lose a little weight, LT. Swear to god you almost cracked a rib when you fell on me like that.”

“Well,” he snarks, “Noted, love. Guess I won’t be on the cover of Vogue anytime soon, anyway. Not with a face like this, at least.”

“Exactly,” you giggle, but it quickly turns into a pained gasp when his fingers pull the two sides of your flesh back together. You writhe in the water, curling into his chest in some vain attempt at hiding yourself from the pain.

“You good?” He asks absently, rubbing over your stomach without hardly batting an eye at the way you cling onto him.

“I’ve been better,” you mewl, eyes wrenched shut, “Still—still not sure I’ll ever do better, though…”

“Don’t say that—”

“Ghost—”

“I said, don’t say that,” he scowls (or, well, as much as he can with his bruised façade), “Not yet, at least. I won’t let you.”

For a moment, all you can do is sit there against his chest, looking at where the scant moonlight phases through the colors of his blonde stubble. Although his face isn’t a pretty sight at the moment, you can’t help but memorize it, running your eyes over his each and every detail, like you were looking at him for the first time all over again.

“You promise?” You ask hesitantly, grabbing onto the back of his collar.

“I promise,” he answers without a second thought.

At that, you take in a low breath, before nodding in response. The hand against your stomach tightens for a beat—a token of reassurance—before he’s shifting on his knees.

“Here,” he huffs, getting his feet underneath himself, “Over that hill, you see it? There’s an overhang. Might give us a bit o’ cover from the rain.”

“Okay,” you follow listlessly, hooking your arm around his neck. However, just when you begin to come to your feet, the crackling bones in your ankle <em>scream</em> in protest. Limply, you fall against him.

“Fuck,” you grunt, looking down at where your feet disappear in the water, “Stupid legs…”

“Can you walk?” He huffs, stumbling over his own two feet. It nearly sends the both of you tumbling back into the water. Mentally, you chuckle at the pitiful image the two of you must make.

Maybe that concussion was worse than he was letting on, you raise your brows, staring at his grisly face.

“Far enough,” you reply instead of speaking your mind, carefully curling your hand around his back. Although your strength is marginal, even just the suggestion of your touch seems to straighten him up—enough to get onto the bank of the stream, at the very least.

“Good, ‘cause—” Simon’s voice peaks on your first step, a deep, hollow noise escaping him, “‘Cause once we’re there, m’not sure how much longer I can—bloody stand.”

“Right—back at you...” You grit, wrenching your eyes shut with another blistering step.

-

Fire-starters were a fickle thing, you’d learned.

Especially in the rain.

“Damnnit,” you curse, scowling down at fingers once more. The rain had done a number on Simon’s dwindling supplies, and none but a single fire starter remained. Good thing he was a heavy smoker, otherwise you’d have to light this fire caveman-style.

Yeah, you take a deep breath in, Maybe you could lay off all the warnings about lung cancer…it all seems like a trivial fucking problem in the face of this.

“Here,” Simon weakly shuffles closer, jacket halfway down his arms.

He pries the lighter out of your hands, flicking his thumb across the wheel. Without further persuasion, the flame blinks to life, a stark burn against your frozen skin.

“Fuck—!” Simon’s arm jerks, and he hurriedly covers his eyes, nearly dropping the lighter against the ground.

“Woah—you okay?” You yank the lighter out of his hand, hurriedly nestling the sparks against the kindling. It goes up in flames (thankfully) hardly a second later.

“Yeah, s’just—” he furiously rubs over his eyes with the palms of his hands, shoulders tight in agony, “The light is just…This—fucking headache won’t go away…”

“Ghost,” you shuffle closer to him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, “Maybe you should lay down for a minute. I’ll—I’ll finish setting everything up, and we can figure things out in the morning.”

“No—no, Rogue, I won’t fuckin’ leave you by yourself,” he rakes a hand through his hair, under-eyes blackened and tired, “You’re hurt, too. That cut needs cleaned and dressing—and don’t you dare fuckin’ tell me otherwise.”

At that, you snap your mouth shut, swallowing the very words he’d just predicted. His eyes are woefully deadpan beneath all the swelling.

Gotcha.

“Ghost, you’re just as bad,” you come closer, holding his shoulders.

“Don’t say that,” he pulls your hand off of his shoulder, clutching it in front of his chest, “Don’t compromise yourself for me just because of a stupid little—”

“I’m not compromising myself—”

“I said no, okay? So just—”

“Ghost, your face is fucking purple right now—”

“And that’s okay so long as I know you’ll make it through the fucking night!” He whisper-yells, voice strained, like even the act of talking were painful in and of itself, “This headache can last as long as I know that you’ll last, okay, love? You get what I’m saying? Do you understand now?”

With every word that he speaks, his fingers curl tighter and tighter around your own, until you’re sure the shaking in your frame is from the blistering way he melds your skin and not the frigid winds whipping up your back. Unbidden, you’re speechless, and eventually, his voice dwindles into nothing. However, his hold remains.

“Ghost…” you begin, but you don’t know how to continue. His breath materializes like falling snowflakes between the two of you, and from his height, he curls over you closer.

“You remember what I said back then? That night at the bar?” He leans his face down, forcing you to meet his eye.

Your breath hitches at the mention, a glowing heat gathering in your cheeks. You barely have the bravery to raise your lashes to look at him, but when you do, he remains the same, bloodied man that he’d always been.

“I’m done letting you think that you’re unimportant, Rogue,” he whispers, his very words woven into the plains of your skin, “Not to me. Not to any of us. I’m done. Do you hear me?”

Shakily, you nod your head, looking down at your intertwined hands. Something inside of you—small and fragile—revels in the heat of his skin, and yet, another part of you shudders in the shadow of it. The cast of its unfamiliarity. The way that he touches you. The way that he speaks to you. The thoughts you know he has of you…and your own inability to muster your bravery.

“Let me take care of you. For once,” he continues, pleading.

Briskly, you swallow, closing your eyes. His scent wraps around you like a blanket, and with shivers running up your spine, you submit to the uncertainty of it. To a man whose face you’d never seen before…to a man whose lips you hardly remember the taste of.

Unwittingly, your brain thinks back on that night in the bar.

Kentucky bourbon.

Slurred dialogue.

Linen sheets. 

Dripping sweat.

The truth of him—one that you didn’t even know had existed…

God, you remember the way he tastes. In the recesses of your drunken memories…

Lime and hops. Stringent alcohol and cigarette smoke. Victory, virility, vitality and all of their counterparts. It was wasted on you. Or, at least, you thought it had been. Ghost, on the other hand, had never given up quite so easily.

“Simon,” you say for the first time in months—for the first time since that night. His chest stills against you.

“Then,” you press your hand to his sternum; it looks inconsequential against the mass of him, “Let’s do it together. Take care of each other, I mean. Can we do that?”

You look up at him from where you sit, shadowed beneath everything that he is. Through the darkness, you can see the way his jaw grinds for a few seconds, before he gives in.

“Only if you let me make the first move,” he huffs, a small smile overcoming his lips.

You can only scoff, eyes dropping back onto the ground between your legs. Blood rushes to your face, and your fingers fidget against his chest.

“Don’t you always do that?” You quip under your breath.

“Well,” he shuffles closer, gently grabbing your shoulder, “You tell me, love. Was that night in the  bar a one-off or…?”

“Simon,” you keel forward with an embarrassed laugh, looking over his shoulder instead of his face, “You—you can’t just say things like that…”

“Why?” he turns his head, lips brushing against your cheekbone. His fingers fumble at your collar, painting shivers into your being with every brush of your touching skin. The sound of the zipper is stark when he begins to edge it downwards, “Afraid you might like ‘em?”

At that, you don’t even have the strength to make a joke. No, you hook your arms around his neck, placing your chin on his shoulder while he slowly opens your jacket. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” this time, he presses his cheek into yours; it’s so dreadfully, beautifully warm, “But I know you’ll listen.”

His words are like a balm, distracting you even when his fingers begin to pluck at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I push it up?” He asks you gently, “Just enough to clean the cut. I won’t look if you don’t want me to. I swear.”

“Why?” You mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder like that might give you more bravery, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before…”

“Trust me, love, I remember,” he shifts on his knees, nose brushing your hair, “But I know how you get about that stuff…All delicate ’n whatnot.”

“M’not delicate,” you giggle, even as something cold and wet presses into your bloodied stomach.

“You’re not,” he replies mindlessly, “But you felt that way. That night.”

That night.

Your skin bristles viscously at the thought, but even more viciously at the feeling of his fingers holding your wound closed. Instead of focusing on the pain, you try desperately to lose yourself in the memory of it, of how his bare skin had felt against yours that night. He doesn’t see it, but you can’t help but smile dreamily at the thought of it.

That night.

God, that night.

You were younger than him. Callow, too. Half the time you felt like some bloodless kid standing next to the rest of them. Unintelligent. Unimportant. The charity case that somehow made it to the big leagues. 

Of course you’d always had eyes for Ghost—who wouldn’t—even before he’d dropped the pretenses and admitted that he thought of you as friends. You still remember the night he’d finally told you. You’d nearly drove yourself insane with all of the swirling thoughts that had swallowed you up when you’d laid down for bed.

After that, you felt like a teenager writing his name in the margins of her diary, in looping hearts and gel pen. 

He was so far above you, and you, so beneath him. By all means, you were nothing to him.

Until that night.

Until you were in your cups, falling off of your barstool.

Until he pulled up his mask to take another drink, and you saw his smile for the very first time.

Until the boys went home and only you remained.

Until he pulled you close and told you that he thought you were beautiful—that he thought you were everything.

Until the only thing you could sense was the whiskey on his breath and the slick heat of his sweaty hips pumping back and forth between your legs.

Swallowing, you pull your fingers into his jacket, holding onto him like he might disappear into the very earth that had encompassed your tomb not an hour ago.

That night, you weren’t some small thing any longer. You weren’t some crushing high-schooler or immature teenage girl. You felt like the woman you’d finally become, the one you swore he’d made you.

If only you could’ve had the courage to look him in the eye and admit to all of it in the months that’d followed…

“I think you’re delicate,” you murmur in the swathe of his shirt, “Not back then, but now…”

You pull back, cupping his jaw. His skin and taut and thin, mangled and grisly. You can tell that the singular point of contact is agonizing to him, but he doesn’t resist it. No, he lets you hold him there, even when a wince works its way up his throat.

“Is that how I seem to you?” He asks, breathing you in.

“Simon, like this…” you follow the marks with your eyes, from his chin to his hairline, “With everything that’s happened to you…I guess, I thought you were invincible, but…”

Listlessly, your hands drop to his collarbones, plucking at a loose string on his shirt.

“But you’re fragile,” you whisper, lips brushing against his chin, “Human.”

The words are chock full of some unspoken emotion, something that had been boiling inside of you for so long, but had never quite managed to spill over. Until now.

“I guess that I…” you take a deep breath in, “I guess that I thought I couldn’t hurt you. That nothing could. And…I’m sorry for that, Simon. For thinking that of you.”

When you raise your head, he looks deep into your eyes, into the flickering shadows and dancing firelight. They burn his senses, grate on his nerves, rip out his heartstrings—and yet, he remains still. Fighting, still.

“Rogue, listen…”

He pulls his hand from underneath your shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close. When your bodies meet, when his chest becomes flush with yours, hips nestled just above yours, a warmth you’d nearly lost in that freezing stream returns to you. Everything you’d felt that night—the night when you’d finally done right by yourself and by him—comes rushing back, just as jarring as the headache that rocks his world.

“Everything out here—everything that’s happened…” he speaks, “The light, the sound, the people, this world—they hurt me…but you don’t. You never have. Never could.”

Transfixed, you push your hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling him closer.

“I promise you, love,” he whispers, “Nothing you’ve done, nothing you’ve said has ever done that to me. You’ve a kind heart. A soft one.”

The words are raspy and low, a salve or medicine.

“Sometimes, though, I just wish you’d hurry up and give it to me,” he chuckles, though it quickly transforms into a wince.

At that, you can’t help but chuckle too, muscles tightening around his comforting embrace. Here, the world is just as peaceful, just as calm. It’s just as serene as the stream or woods, just as bright as the furthest shining stars. But unlike the rest of this world, you don’t want to leave it. Not now. Not yet.

“Then…” you swallow the emotions in your throat, “Would you mind waiting for me for just one more night?”

His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh, his big palms sliding over the curve of your back.

“Hardly,” he answers, “As long as tomorrow comes, I’ll have you. I promise.”

[haddonfieldwhore]

sparring partner - hayden christensen

hayden christensen x younger!fem!reader

summary: hayden helps you with lightsaber training for the ahsoka series

warnings: age gap implied (no age specified tho), that might be it? not edited

word count: 1.5k

“i can’t do it,” you resigned, frustrated and tired from trying the same move over and over and not getting it.

“try it again,” the choreographer suggested unhelpfully, and you exhaled in annoyance, mostly at yourself, before getting back in position. you doubted that the thirtieth time could possibly go any differently than the previous twenty nine attempts, but tried the steps again anyway; no luck. it didn’t look this complicated when you had first been shown the fight choreo, but for some reason you just couldn’t nail down this specific spin. you and natasha, who played sabine, were supposed to meet in about half an hour to practice the fight together before shooting the scene next week, and you had shown up an hour early to try and get your moves down. you felt like you hadn’t made any progress at all.

“take 10 minutes, get some water,” the choreographer suggested, and you nodded, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand.

you sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes with a defeated sigh, your prop lightsaber clattering to the ground next to you. a shadow fell over your face and your brows furrowed slightly in confusion at the sudden darkness.

“hey, how’s it going?” a voice asked and you opened your eyes to see hayden standing in front of you.

“not so great,” you admitted. you hadn’t gotten the chance to work with hayden much yet while filming ahsoka, but anytime he stopped by the set to see how things were going, you enjoyed talking with him, and greatly appreciated any input or advice he offered. you had always admired him as an actor. hayden tried to convince himself that it was coincidence that every time he came by set you happened to be training or shooting that day.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

“i can’t get this one part of the choreography,” you admitted with a sigh, and he extended his hand to you, pulling you up off the floor once you slid your hand into his grip.

“show me?” he asked.

“i can try,” you laughed dryly as he got a prop saber of his own and stood next to you, giving you enough space to demonstrate the move as best you could.

you managed to get through the steps, although with the smoothness of a droid that had never been oiled and at about a quarter the speed they should be, but it was enough for hayden to get the general idea.

he slowly repeated the steps, with slightly more grace than you had, and then instructed for you to follow along with him. after a few tries and a great display of patience from hayden, you made it through the sequence and it almost looked good.

“how are you so good at this?” you asked, trying not to let the jealousy you were feeling come out in your voice, as without him you never would have got it.

“i’ve had more practice than you, that’s all,” he smiled reassuringly. “try it again on your own,” he instructed, taking a step back.

you fumbled through the movements again, and groaned in frustration when you made a mistake again.

“it’s hopeless,” you surrendered.

“come on, you can do it,” hayden encouraged, but you shook your head.

“i can’t, i’ve been trying forever and i just can’t get it.”

“i thought you wanted to do this,” he challenged, and you were slightly taken aback by his words.

“i do-“

“then prove it,” he said, his stance changing to invite a duel.

“hayden, im not going to fight you,” you sighed, though amused.

“why not?” he taunted. “afraid to lose?”

“you have years more training than i do-“ you stopped your complaint as you had to raise the saber in your hands to stop a swing from the man in front of you.

“now you’re just making excuses,” he taunted with a smile, and you retaliated with a swing of your own that he blocked with ease. you traded blows back and forth, the crew taking a step back as the two of you duelled back and forth. to no one’s surprise, hayden had the upper hand, and you ended up dropping your prop saber, and stared up to meet hayden’s eyes as he held the blade of his across your throat, hovering just centimetres below your chin as you both caught your breath.

“not bad,” he complimented, and you felt a sense of pride.

“thanks,” you smiled, your eyes flickering down to his lips, the corner on his mouth still upturned, and your gaze landed on his eyes again, which were still locked on you. your heart pounded against your ribcage as you put your hand on his that still held the saber at your throat, and lowered it gently before you took a step back.

“sorry,” he apologized, and you shook your head as if to say it wasn’t needed. “i knew you could do it though.”

“what do you mean?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side in confusion, which hayden couldn’t help but feel guilty for finding quite cute.

“the move, you did it,” he said like it was obvious. you realized that without even thinking, during the duel with hayden you had in fact successfully executed the move sequence that had been stumping you all morning.

“that was great,” the fight choreographer said as he approached the two of you. “it’s too bad you two don’t have a scene in the show, your chemistry is great.”

“thank you,” you both replied, and the choreographer offered you an extra five minutes to rest, since you had spent your previous break practicing.

“think you can do it again now?” hayden asked encouragingly, and you nodded, but you felt nervous. what if it was a fluke? you were annoyed enough at yourself as it was, and the added pressure of not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of hayden wasn’t helping.

however, you took a deep breath, and to your relief, managed the move with little difficulty this time.

“i did it?” you smiled, but it sounded more like a question, and hayden couldn’t help but laugh. “i did it!” you repeated, and couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around his shoulders in a hug. you could feel his body tense in surprise, but he relaxed and circled his arms around your back, a chuckle shaking through his chest.

“i knew you could do it.”

“thank you,” you smiled. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

you separated, though your eyes met again briefly, a thickness hanging in the air between you until you heard footsteps approaching. you turned to see natasha walking up to the two of you. neither of you had noticed how long she’d been watching the two of you duel, but she was impressed.

“nice moves,” she complimented, bumping your shoulder playfully. the two of you had grown close while working on the show, and you were looking forward to shooting this fight with her.

“thanks, i had a really good teacher,” you complimented, sending hayden a glance.

natasha noticed the way his smile lit up his eyes as he looked at you, and made a mental note to bug you about it later.

“i can’t take all the credit, it was all you,” he insisted, the two of you lost in your own world, and natasha wondered if she was suddenly invisible.

“well, you ready to practice?” she snapped you out of the trance you were in, and you nodded. “if you didn’t tire her out too much, that is,” she teased. hayden felt a blush rise to his cheeks, and he found himself grateful that you were looking the other way and therefore didn’t notice.

“let’s go,” you agreed, and she grabbed a prop saber and walked over to set down her bag.

“i’ll catch up with you later?” hayden asked, and you smiled.

“i’d like that,” you smiled, and he tapped your shoulder gently, his fingertips sending a shiver down your spine. “thanks again, hayden.”

“anytime.” with that he turned and walked over to some of the crew to talk with them as you met natasha on the other side of the room.

“was i interrupting something?” she teased, and your brow raised innocently.

“what do you mean?”

“you and hayden..?” she asked, like it was obvious. “you guys were having a moment when i walked up.”

“it wasn’t a ‘moment’, he was just helping me,” you disagreed, though you wouldn’t mind if it had been a ‘moment’, whatever that meant.

“hmm, okay,” natasha hummed teasingly, unconvinced. “is that why he’s still watching you?”

you casually glanced over to see that hayden was in fact looking your way, and he smiled when he met your gaze before continuing his conversation with the crew.

“that doesn’t mean anything-“

“if you say so. now come on, let’s practice.” she teased, and you rolled your eyes before she went on.

“loverboy will be there later.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me, body and soul

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. SMUT. creampie. mentions of pregnancy. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. also, reader has brown eyes (for story purposes, everything else doesn’t really matter lol.)

Word Count: 13,027

A/N: IM SO GLAD PEOPLE LIKE THIS🥹🥹 I love historical romance, I eat it up every time so I didn’t want to mess this up. Thank you all so much for your support!!! MWUAH MWUAH MWUAH

[pt.1][pt.3]

“He’s got so much in his heart, but he doesn’t know what to do” — John Wayne, Cigarettes After Sex

As training came to an end, Andrews bid Leon goodbye as he went with the other soldiers to the knight’s quarters. You were standing in front of a portrait, a woman, Leon’s mother.

Leon, tired and sweaty from training, was on his way back to his chambers when he noticed you standing in front of his mother's portrait.

He paused for a moment, his heart clenching. He hadn't expected to run into you here, but there you were, standing in front of the portrait of the woman he loved and lost. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he approached you, standing beside you in front of the portrait.

You were too focused on the painting of his deceased mother, you’ve heard the servants say he lost his mother in the war. The same war against your kingdom.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone next to you. It was Leon. Your eyes widened slightly and then you turned to look at him but then you remembered the argument in the library and you turned to look back at the painting. You didn’t want to be a burden so I held your tongue.

Leon shifted awkwardly next to you, feeling the tension between the two of you. But Andrews' words echoed in his head, reminding him that he needed to start seeing you for who you are, not just the enemy princess.

He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice low and gruff, "Do you..." he started, his throat feeling dry.

You quickly turned your head to look at him as he started to speak, giving him your attention.

“Do I…” you repeated quietly, trying to understand what he was trying to say. There was something different about him right now, maybe it was because he just finished his training but something told you he was acting differently. Less hostile towards you.

Leon took another deep breath before continuing, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and memories.

He remembered the pain and anger he felt when his mother died, the way it fueled his desire for revenge against your kingdom.

But he also remembered Andrews' words, reminding him that you weren't responsible for any of it. That it wasn't your fault.

So he pushed down his anger and spoke again, his voice a bit gentler, "Do you... know who that is?" he nodded towards the portrait of his mother.

His soft voice took you by surprise, it was a nice change for once instead of him snapping at you and saying mean things to you.

You looked back at the portrait and then back at him, nodding your head, “Yes,” you replied softly, “This is the former queen, your mother.”

Leon felt a pang in his chest as you confirmed that you knew who his mother was. It was a memory that still stung and hurt, but hearing you speak about her with respect and not hostility made him feel… different.

He glanced at you, his gaze flickering over your expression before he shifted his focus back to the portrait.

"She was… a good woman," he said quietly, his voice laced with a hint of tenderness that was rarely present when he spoke to you.

You knew what your kingdom did and it made you feel so guilty. The war took the lives of many including his mother.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered and turned your head to look up at him. You were slowly starting to understand why he hated you. It was hatred by association. He got sent a bride from the kingdom that murdered his mom, he had every right to be angry. But you didn’t kill anyone with your own hands either.

You turned to look back at her portrait, not knowing what else to say. This whole situation was different than before. Leon's heart ached as you apologized, and he could tell that the guilt you felt was genuine.

He looked down at you, his mind torn between the anger and resentment he had held for so long and the understanding that none of this was your fault.

But old habits die hard.

"You don’t need to apologize," he said sharply, the harshness of his voice betraying the complex mix of emotions he was feeling, "You didn't do anything."

You looked back up at him, staring into his eyes and for once you saw him aside from his cold and harsh self. You saw a son grieving the loss of their mother and that made you feel really bad.

Your eyes drifted around his face, staring intently at every feature. The roundness of his eyes, the color of his irises, his lips that looked soft. But then you caught yourself staring and looked back at the portrait of his late mother. Leon’s eyes widened slightly as he noticed your gaze drifting across his face, taking in every feature. He could see the sympathy and guilt in your eyes and it made him feel… weirdly vulnerable.

“She’s beautiful,” you muttered under your breath. She truly was a gorgeous woman.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the feeling as you looked back at his mother’s portrait.

"Yes, she was,” he replied quietly, his voice low and hoarse, "A lot of people always said I have her eyes.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as a small smile reached your lips. You stared at the painting intently, “I can see it,” you replied quietly.

Then you looked over at him, “You do have similar eyes,” you muttered under your breath in agreement. The moment was vulnerable, a contrast to what usually happens when you’re around each other.

Leon felt a small pang in his chest as you chuckled and agreed with him. It was a strange moment, a rare one where the hostility between the two of you was replaced by something else. Something more… gentle.

He couldn’t help but notice how calm you seemed, no longer tense and guarded like you usually were when he was around. He found himself taking a step closer to you, his body almost imperceptibly drawn towards you.

He cleared his throat, again, and looked back at his mother’s portrait, trying to force himself to keep his distance.

Andrews seemed to be right, for the first time ever since you came here, it only took him to put his anger aside to finally see you for you. It was a good thing for your relationship.

You nibbled on my bottom lip, shifting awkwardly before you spoke up in a nervous tone, even though you tried to hide it under a calm blanket, “I didn’t get any of my parent's eyes,” you mumbled with an awkward chuckle.

“My dad has blue eyes and my mom has green eyes but I came out with brown eyes,” you said as you glanced at him before looking back at the portrait.

Leon couldn’t help but notice the nervous yet earnest edge to your voice as you spoke.

He looked down at you, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Your comment about your eyes made him feel… oddly endeared. It was a mundane detail that was entirely meaningless in the grand scheme of things, yet it made him see you in a different light.

“Well,” he said, his tone softer than usual, “brown suits you.”

You felt your cheeks warm up a bit, did he just compliment you for the first time? You couldn’t hide the smile creeping up on your face, and then you looked at him, “Thanks…” you replied softly.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat as he heard your soft reply and the hint of a smile on your lips. He felt his own mouth twitch upwards at the corners in response, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

“I’d probably look weird with blue eyes,” you mumbled, trying to be nonchalant but secretly your heart was beating really fast, “Guess my eyes didn’t get the memo with my parents.”

He chuckled at your joke, the sound escaping him almost unintentionally. You chuckled nervously at your own joke, but as you stared at his mother’s portrait, you couldn’t help but say something in a soft mutter, “Blue suits you.”

He caught your comment about his eyes, and he felt his cheeks start to heat up, “Thanks,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. He glanced down at you again, feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach.

You felt his gaze on you and you turned to look up at him. For the first time, there was no hostility and hatred. It felt nice.

You opened my mouth to say something but you didn’t know what to say. Sure, you were married but it wasn’t like you did anything couples did. You felt a bit awkward but you also felt giddy?

“Are you…” you started quietly in a whisper, your heart beating fast as you looked up at him.

Leon’s gaze lingered on you as you looked up at him, his heart racing in his chest. He waited patiently as you spoke, his breath catching in his throat as he heard the question.

“Am I…?” he repeated, his voice low and soft, barely above a whisper. He was acutely aware of how close the two of you were standing, the air between you almost crackling with something he couldn’t quite identify.

“Are you…” you repeated nervously as you stared into his blue eyes, you then swallowed dryly and proceeded, “Are you going to bed?”

You were so nervous for some reason, your heart hammering inside your chest as you waited for his answer. You didn’t even know why you asked that. He just came out of his training and it was nighttime. He was covered in sweat and was probably tired.

You nibbled on your bottom lip just slightly, doing it almost subconsciously, a nervous habit.

He met your gaze head-on, and he couldn’t help but notice the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. He had to resist the sudden and strange urge to reach out and touch your face.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and gruff. He wasn’t expecting the conversation to go in this direction and it was slightly throwing him off guard.

You nodded slowly, of course he was. His servants were probably waiting for him so he could take a bath and change into his night clothes.

“I, uh,” you stumbled upon your words as you shifted your weight between your legs, “I don’t know why I asked,” you muttered truthfully.

Leon couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as you stumbled over your words. It was strangely endearing.

“Was training good?” You suddenly asked, not wanting the moment to end with him.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes never leaving yours, “Training was fine,” he replied quietly. He wasn’t sure why you asked that either, but somehow it didn’t matter. He found himself wanting the moment to last, just as you did.

“I should…” he started, motioning vaguely down the hallway towards his chambers.

You looked behind to see where he was pointing at, your shared chambers. You quickly looked back up at him and nodded, “Right, yeah, I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you muttered nervously.

“Your servants are probably wondering what’s taking so long,” you chuckled nervously and chewed on your bottom lip again out of nervousness.

You looked down at your feet, seeing your heels from under your dress before you looked back up at him, “I should probably go too,” you muttered but you made no effort to move.

He nodded in response, his eyes fixed on you. He noticed how you couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting, how you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. He didn’t want you to leave, but he didn’t know how to express it without sounding strange.

“Yeah…” he agreed, nodding slowly. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

“I…” you muttered softly as you saw his eyes flick down to your lips and felt your breath hitch for a moment. Your eyes subsequently doing the same to his lips.

You quickly looked back up at him, “Goodnight then,” you whispered before you moved to the side and started to walk down the hall, opposite of him.

Your heels echoed through the air, you glanced behind your shoulder to look at him, your breath hitching once more and you subconsciously quickened your pace. Why were you feeling so nervous all of a sudden?

You didn’t go to your shared quarters, not yet at least, you actually walked towards the library and closed the door. The entire interaction seemed out of the ordinary.

You paced around the bookshelves as you thought to yourself what led to the sudden change in him. Why did he suddenly start to treat you different. It was nice but you couldn’t help but question it a bit.

Leon went through his nightly routine in a daze. His mind was racing with thoughts of you and the strange, new feeling in his chest.

The servants washed him, dried him, and dressed him in his night clothes, but he barely registered their presence. He was too preoccupied with thinking about the conversation he had just had with you. Finishing, the servants bowed respectfully and left silently, leaving Leon alone in his chambers. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

Maybe Andrews was right, all he needed to do was put his anger aside and treat you differently. Andrews really was too smart for his own good. Sure, it wasn’t easy and it’s a bit confusing to suddenly act different to the person from the enemy kingdom, but you were his wife now. And Andrews seemed to have noticed how unfair and terrible he had treated you before.

Your maids also bathed you and helped you change into your night dress. The dress being white and reaching the floor, the silky material dragging as padded to your shared quarters.

Leon looked up as you entered the room, his heart skipping a beat again. He observed the way the silky fabric of your night dress hugged your figure and it made his stomach flip once more.

He quickly looked away, trying to control the unwanted reaction he was having to your presence. He hadn't slept in the same bed as you ever since you arrived here and he was having a hard time understanding why that suddenly bothered him.

"You're here," he stated quietly, his voice low and gruff.

“My lord,” you quickly curtsied and nodded, “Yeah,” you muttered breathlessly, feeling your voice get stuck in your throat, “I’m here.”

Usually, he slept on the couch near the fireplace and a part of you still remembered all his mean words.

But this was unexpected and new. You slowly walked over to the couch, thinking he wanted to sleep on the bed instead. A strange feeling washed over him as he saw you approach the couch, assuming he wanted to sleep on the bed.

"No," he said suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

His voice was soft, but there was a hint of command in it. He patted the bed next to him, signaling for you to come closer.

You looked over at him and saw him patting the side next to him on the bed. Your heart was beating fast, he wants to sleep on the same bed? You stared at him in shock for a few seconds before you nodded and made your way towards the bed.

You’ve only been married for three months but this would be the first night you’ve ever shared the same bed, somehow, it felt like the first day of your marriage.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, fixing your hair and dress nervously before you laid down on your back next to him. You both stared at the ceiling with your shoulders close to each other.

For a few moments, the two of you were silent, both staring at the ceiling. Leon couldn't help but steal small glances at you, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your hands were down at your sides. Since you were laying next to each other, your hands were so close to his. You could practically feel his body heat radiate from him. You moved your pinky, your finger gently grazing his hand. Leon felt the gentle graze of your pinky against his hand and it sent a small shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to hold your hand, to feel the soft warmth of your skin against his own.

He glanced over at you again, his eyes flickering over your features. Your body was so close to his own, and he could feel the heat radiating between you.

Suddenly, he reached out and took your hand in his own. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers intertwining with your own.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when you felt him take your hand and intertwine his fingers with your own. Blood rushed to your cheeks and you u looked down at your joined hands.

His hand was bigger than yours and felt rougher with callouses, presumably from his sword training. Your hand was smaller and dainty, soft and smooth as it signified your royal status as princess.

You turned your head to the side to look at him. Your eyes roaming his features, taking him in and committing him to memory. Then, you held his hand back just as firm, giving it a little squeeze.

Leon felt a strange warmth spread through his chest as you squeezed his hand in return. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of rightness about this moment, holding your hand as you laid next to each other in the bed. His thumb began to brush over your knuckles, the callouses on his skin creating a pleasant friction against your softness.

He turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours as you took in his features. His breathing became slightly uneven.

A small but closed-lipped smile appeared on your face when you felt his thumb brush over your knuckles. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing also becoming uneven.

You eyes stared deeply into his eyes before they accidentally dropped down to his lips. You forced your eyes back to look at his blue eyes, feeling absolutely nervous.

Leon noticed the way your eyes lingered on his lips for a moment before quickly darting back up to his eyes. He felt a strange flutter in his chest as he realized you were as nervous as he was. He squeezed your hand gently as he leaned slightly closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You didn’t move away as he leaned slightly closer to you, you swallowed dryly and parted your lips slightly as you maintained eye contact with him.

You unknowingly squeezed his hand out of nervousness, holding it firmly in yours as you felt yourself grow to be a ball of nerves. Which led you to do your nervous habit, nibble on your bottom lip and wondered how his lips would feel on yours.

The atmosphere was tense but not in the way it used to be. There was no hatred and no malice, instead there was something else that you didn’t quite know.

He felt his own heart racing in his chest as he imagined how your lips would feel against his own. The tense atmosphere wasn't like it used to be, there was something else there. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced before.

Without thinking, he brought his hand up to gently grip your chin, tilting your face slightly closer to his. You quickly stopped nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt his gentle grip on your chin, his fingers held you gently as he tilted your face up and closer to his.

You parted your lips once again, your faces slowly losing distance until you could feel his warm breath on your face. You looked down at his lips before you looked up at his blue eyes.

And then you closed my eyes, waiting for him to kiss you as your other hand rested on his chest very faintly, as if not to hurt him.

Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. Youwere both hesitant, scared of rejection when you were both married. It was almost funny. But then again, it was an arranged marriage to end the war.

His lips felt soft against yours and you found myself melting next to him. Your grip on his hand tightened a bit but then it relaxed as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

The kiss was soft and tender, almost too gentle as if to say ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ or ‘I don’t want to scare you.’

Leon couldn't believe how good it felt to finally kiss you, to feel your soft lips against his own. He could feel your grip on his hand tighten for a moment before relaxing as you mustered the courage to kiss him back.

He couldn't ignore the way his heart fluttered in his chest as the kiss continued. He couldn't deny the fact that he wanted more, but part of him was afraid to take the next step.

He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged as he tried to slow down his racing heart.

You opened your eyes and stared at him as he leaned his forehead against yours. Your breathing was hard as you tried to catch your breath.

Your cheeks were flushed but you were…happy. Genuinely happy and you couldn’t help my smile. You let out a nervous laugh and moved to hide your face on his chest.

Leon felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the way he had treated you earlier that day. He had been harsh and cold, using sharp words that he knew would hurt you. But then he remembered his conversation with Andrews, how the man had convinced him to try and make things better. And now, here you were, lying together in bed, with Leon's forehead rested against your own.

As you let out a nervous laugh and hid your face on his chest, he couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in his heart. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. For three months you didn’t do anything a married couple should do, he slept on the couch while you slept on the bed. Since your first day, he ignored you and made sure to never speak to you or touch you. And the few times he did talk to you, he’d be mean to you and you’d only argue.

But here he was, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, not wanting to let go anytime soon.

Leon could feel guilt tugging at his heart as he held you close in his arms. He knew he had been unkind and distant towards you for far too long. He had pushed you away, treating you like an enemy instead of a wife.

He rested his chin on the top of your head, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if to hold you close forever. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was grateful to Andrews for making him see reason.

He understood now that this arrangement had affected you just as much as it had affected him. He knew that he had been blinded by anger and grief.

For the rest of the night, you slept in each other’s embrace. You may not have taken it further but you were content with the slow pace of change. In your opinion, you wanted to know him for who he is instead of just jumping straight to the action.

In hindsight, you could see yourself actually being happy with this marriage. All he needed was a wake up call and a clarity check from his friend.

When morning rolled up, his servants and your maids entered the room to wake you both up but they halted as they saw you two sleeping together on the bed. Their eyes bulging out as they stood speechless.

His eyes opened as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bed. He didn’t move, not wanting to disturb you, but he felt a pang of irritation at the interruption. He slowly untangled himself from your arms and sat up in bed, his eyes scanning the servants as they stood frozen in place.

You remained lying on the bed, oblivious to everything as sleep asleep. The servants and maids bowed at Leon, “Good morning, my lord,” they all said in a hushed tone as to not wake you up.

Which was great because you didn’t even stir in your sleep. The servants and the maids tried to continue with their routine as normal. Your maids going to the bathroom to set up your morning bath as his servants started to help him get ready behind the room divider for privacy.

The servants didn’t dare say anything to Leon about the way they found you and Leon sleeping. At the sound of water running, you groggily woke up, realizing it was morning. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before they landed on Leon behind the dressing screen. Your heart beat a little faster but you were soon taken out of your thoughts as a maid helped you to the bathroom for your bath.

Once you were taken to the bathroom by your maids, Leon’s thoughts lingered on the fact that he’d woken up next to you that morning. Nothing else happened except for the kiss, which was your first kiss, but you still enjoyed sleeping in his arms for some reason.

After your bath, your maids helped you get dressed. This time, you were wearing a light blue dress with jewels. It was perfect for summer as the straps hung down your arms. The length reached the floor, just like any other gown.

But as your maids helped with your hair, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Leon from the reflection of your mirror.

Leon was deep in thought as his servants helped him get dressed, his mind filled with thoughts about the previous night. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for how long he had been treating you badly, but at the same time, he was grateful for the change that had begun.

His eyes darted to the mirror that was placed in front of him as he caught sight of you in the reflection. He couldn't help but stare at you for a moment, admiring your beauty.

“My lord,” one of his servants said as he pulled him out of his thoughts, “today you have a meeting with the kings. It’s about the war that ended,” he whispered so you wouldn’t hear.

After the war ended between your kingdom and his kingdom, nothing was over by just having you two marry for an alliance. There were other things to discuss such as reparations and how to avoid future conflicts.

Your maids finished helping you get ready and you stood up from your vanity stool, “Come, my lady,” the head maid said, “breakfast will be served shortly,” then she started to guide you out of the room, not before you spared Leon one last glance, giving him a small smile before you disappeared into the hall.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard the maid urging you to leave the room. He saw you give him one last smile before disappearing into the hallway.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, though he knew he had a lot on his plate for the day. He made a mental note to make time to talk to you later in the evening.

As you made it to the dining hall, you sat on the table where you were served warm breakfast. As you were about to take a bite, you noticed a few stares and saw your maids staring at you with curiosity.

“Yes?” You asked them as you took a small bite out of your breakfast. One of the maids stepped up, “My lady,” she spoke nervously, “did you and the lord…” she trailed but you knew what she meant. Your face turned red and you almost choked on your food. You quickly shook your head no, “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. We just kissed and hugged.”

But at the revelation, their shoulders slumped in disappointment. You furrowed your brows confused but then spoke up softly, “But maybe in the future,” you muttered to which they heard and seemed to be happy? You were still getting used to this kingdom.

Back with Leon, his servant was telling him of his schedule: meeting with the kings, oversee taxation history of the town, sword training, and evaluate the final preparations for the upcoming festival.

Leon listened intently as his servant listed off his schedule for the day. It was going to be a busy one, he knew that much.

The mention of the upcoming festival tugged at his heartstrings, as he remembered how he used to attend with his mother. But now she was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

He pushed the thought aside as his servant continued to brief him on the other tasks he would need to attend to, including meeting with the other lords.

The servant guided him towards one of the many rooms of the castle, but this one was where the meeting was taking place. Upon Leon’s arrival, the older men stood up and bowed at Leon.

“Good morning, my lord,” they said before they sat down. There was the king, Leon’s father, sitting next to my father, the king of the kingdom they fought against in war. It seemed as if it were just the three of them.

“Ah, there’s my son,” the king said as Leon entered. Then he looked at my father, “Told you he’s been faring well.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as they resumed their seats. Leon’s eyes darted to his father and your father sitting next to each other, and he was surprised to find them being civil towards each other. He made his way to the empty seat at the table and sat down, his eyes flickering between his father and yours.

It was kind of surprising to see them civil, given that your father was the reason the whole war started in the first place. The whole reason why Leon’s mother died.

Your father stood up and formally addressed Leon and the king, “I’d like to start us off with the topic reparations,” he said before his snapped his fingers, signaling for his servant to bring something in.

A servant came in with a box, putting it in front of Leon and the king, “This is for the construction damages,” your father began, watching as the servant opened the box to reveal gold coins and bars.

Leon's expression remained neutral as your father addressed him and the king, but a wave of anger and resentment washed over him as he mentioned reparations.

His eyes darted to the box that was placed in front of him and his father as the servant opened it, revealing gold coins and bars. Leon couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at the thought that the war was the reason behind his mother's death.

He clenched his jaw but said nothing, his gaze flickering towards his father to gauge his reaction.

“Go on,” the king said as he looked at the contents of the box before he looked back at your father, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

Your father cleared his throat and proceeded, “No amount of wealth will bring people back from the dead. We’ve both lost incredible amounts of people,” he stated, “innocent lives were taken during the war and I stem accountability for starting it.”

Leon's expression remained stoic as he listened to your father's words. He could sense his father's skepticism as the king looked at the contents of the box before shifting his gaze back to your father.

“Hence why I propose we seal the alliance. We know that by marrying my daughter to Crown Prince Leon,” he gestured to Leon, “it was the start of the process of the peaceful era. Well, here gentlemen,” he said as he took out a rolled parchment before handing it to the king. It was a contract.

“That has my legal stamp, declaring my unwavering loyalty to our alliance and friendship. I will provide support and aid whenever you request just as how I expect you to do the same,” he stated as he bowed his head in respect.

As your father went on to propose sealing the alliance, Leon's mind raced with thoughts. He had mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, he knew that the marriage was a part of the process to bring peace and stability.

But on the other hand, he still harbored feelings of anger and resentment towards your father for starting the war and causing his mother's death.

The king hummed before he gave Leon the contract to let him have a read, obviously trusting Leon to also make a decision since he was the heir to the throne.

“What’s the catch?” The king suddenly asked your father. Your father shook his head and clasped his hand behind his back, “The catch, is not really a catch,” he said.

“It’s too simple Sylus,” the king said as he stood up and stared at your father, “Yes we agreed to have our children marry but it takes more than that to end a war.”

Leon took the contract and began to read through it, his eyes flitting across the page as he absorbed the contents of the agreement.

Sylus, your father, sighed, “Ever the observant, Your Highness,” he said before he stared at the king.

“The catch is,” he started nervously, “well, you see, in my family, the women usually have fertility issues,” he said as he gave Leon a brief glance before he focused back on the king, “I do not know if my daughter can even be with child and I do not want her to face the consequences for something she can’t control.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed as he listened to your father explain about the fertility issues within your family. His heart suddenly felt heavy as he realized the implications of those words.

The thought of you not being able to bear children was a difficult one, but Leon knew he couldn’t change the situation. He was an heir who needed to create future heirs for the throne.

He looked up at his father, who seemed a bit surprised by your father's confession, and Leon couldn't help but feel the pressure weighing down on him.

“Are you certain, Sylus?” The king asked your father in a firm tone, “there needs to be an heir once my son becomes king and if your daughter can’t give him one then why did you send your daughter for marriage?”

“Your Highness, with all due respect, it’s not *all* the women,” he said nervously, “in my kingdom, fertility is blessed based on good health and my daughter has always been a strong one. She’s never once had chicken pox!” He chuckled nervously.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not guaranteed,” the king argued back, he sighed and looked at Leon, “Have you tried?”

Leon felt the weight of the king's gaze upon him, and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably as the topic shifted to his private affairs with you.

"We... have not," Leon replied, his voice firm but his eyes avoiding his father's. He knew what he was really hinting at. Leon didn't want to admit it, but the idea of producing heirs hadn’t crossed his mind. He was a man with an obligation and he knew he would eventually have to perform his duties. But that was before he started to be nice to you, now he understood what his duties were aside from politics.

The king stared at Leon blankly, “Son…” he muttered, “It’s been *three* months since you’ve met her, how have you not—“

“Hey don’t rush them,” your father quickly interjected, “She’s young, she’s at the ripe age of childbirth…right?” He asked his servant who nodded at your father. He then looked back at the king with a shaky smile.

It was true that you were young, it gave the advantage of trying as many times as possible to conceive as it was your duties as future king and queen. Leon clenched his jaw, feeling frustrated by the conversation.

"We will try," Leon said, his voice firmer this time. He didn't want to be pressured into something. He could take care of things on his own. But deep down inside, he felt a hint of guilt. He felt bad that you were being used for his political ambitions.

His father gave Leon a firm nod, “You better,” then he looked over at your father. As a woman, it seemed as your only role was to have children, along with minor duties around the castle such as tending to the kitchen and garden.

“And you won’t have to worry about my daughter,” your father kept trying to lessen the king’s anger, “she’s good with children. Did I tell you about that time when she volunteered at a children’s church?” He chuckled nervously.

The king sighed, “Sylus, if your daughter can’t produce an heir then what use do I have for her?” Your father visibly wilted at his words, “She’s got many talents. She speaks five languages, she paints, she sings, she plays piano, she reads maps and knows geography. Believe me, she can be very useful when she wants.”

Leon's heart panged with sympathy as he listened to your father defend you, listing off your many talents and skills. He knew that you were not just a tool for producing heirs, but a person in your own right with your own abilities. And he felt guilty for realizing it after three months.

His father, however, seemed less impressed. He simply grunted in response to your father's words, not convinced by his defense. Your father sighed, “Give her a chance. She’s young, she’s at the right age for bearing kids,” he basically pleaded, “all she needs is time. You’ll have an heir before you know it.”

“Very well,” the king said before he took the contract, “I will sign it but until she is with child,” he then looked at Leon, “You better get to it.”

Leon clenched his jaw as his father gave his ultimatum. It was clear that the king saw your value only in your ability to bear children. Leon knew that he had a duty to produce heirs, but he struggled with the idea of treating you like nothing more than a vessel for bearing his children.

He nodded at his father, signaling his understanding of the king's condition, "I will," Leon said firmly, but his tone betrayed his internal conflict.

“Very well,” the king said before he stood up, taking the contract with him, “you’re all dismissed,” the king said before he started to walk out of the room. Once he was out, your father let out a sigh as he slumped on the chair.

“What am I going to do…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his forehead, clearly this was affecting him as well. A father who only wanted to protect his daughter.

As Leon watched his father leave, he felt a sense of dread wash over him. He knew that he had to start fulfilling his duty as soon as possible.

He turned to your father and saw the tired, worried look on his face. He knew that the pressure was weighing heavy on him too.

"Don't worry," Leon said, his voice firm, "I'll do my duty. I'll make sure you don't regret giving your daughter to me."

Your father looked up at Leon, “I don’t,” he answered, “I don’t regret giving her to you, my lord.”

“My poor little girl,” he whispered to himself before he focused back on Leon, “She’s a great girl. She’s smart, she’s kind…” it was evident that your father was going through a whirlwind of stress and emotions.

Your father then stood up, giving Leon a deep bow in respect before he also walked out of the room to go back to his kingdom.

As your father left the room, Leon was left alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the king's words and expectations weighing down on him. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to stand up from his seat. He had a duty to fulfill and a promise to keep.

You were wandering the halls, yet again, oblivious to their meeting. You knew Leon was busy as the lord of the house, so you weren’t aware if they might be discussing.

“My lord,” the servant came over to Leon, “your next duty on the agenda is to foresee the taxes. The treasury just wants to hear your opinion, he says,” the servant said.

Leon had a promise and duty to fulfill, just as you did. The rest of his morning was full of tasks he had to do. It wasn’t until evening that his schedule was finally free. Leon spent the entire day attending to his responsibilities, from overseeing taxes to attending to other matters related to the house. Despite the busy schedule, his mind kept returning to the agreement and the king's condition.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned a hue of orange and purple, Leon finally had a moment of peace. He took a deep breath and looked out the window. The house suddenly felt so quiet and empty. Leon realized that he hadn't seen you all day. A pang of guilt gnawed at his heart.

You were in your shared quarters, talking to your maids. Your voices echoing around the walls of the room as the sound of clothes rustling was heard since the door was slightly ajar opened.

Right, today you had your new dresses delivered to you, “This one is gorgeous!” One of your maids said as she picked up a red ball gown.

“No, this is the one that beats all dresses in the kingdom,” another maid said she held a white gown. They were both beautiful and you could only laughed.

Leon stood outside the ajar open door, listening to the conversation between you and your maids. He heard your light laughter and the chatter about the dresses. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he heard your laughter. He didn't realize how much he had missed you until now.

He cleared his throat and knocked softly on the door, signaling his presence. Your maids quickly stood up straight up and tidied the room, the few boxes of dresses on the floor but upon seeing him, you smiled.

“My lord,” your maids greeted and curtsied as you stared at Leon before you remembered you had to do the same too. You were too caught up staring at him!

Leon was handsome, no doubt about that, but you still felt a bit embarrassed for forgetting to greet him formally. A hint of amusement flickered across his face as he took a step into the room, looking around at the boxes of dresses on the floor.

"No need for formalities," he assured your maids, his eyes shifting to you, "I merely came to check on my future Queen."

Your maids hurriedly tidied the place, they worked fast, right before they went over to the door, “We will leave you two alone.”

You nodded at them and watched as they left and closed the door, leaving you alone with Leon in your room. Your smile widened a bit, “Your future Queen?” You muttered softly as you stood in front of him.

“How was your meeting?” You asked as you stared up at him, “I heard my father visited. I wished I could’ve said hi but I was busy in the library,” since you weren’t in the meeting, you didn’t know what they talked about.

Leon chuckled softly, "Yes, my future Queen," he reiterated, his eyes never leaving yours as he looked down at you.

A hint of tension hung in the air as he remembered the real reason he was checking on you, but Leon quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused his attention on you. He gently reached down and brushed a strand of hair from your face, "The meeting went fine," he said casually, not wanting to reveal the true topic of conversation.

You smiled softly at him, letting him brush your hair away from your face, his touch soft, “Not too stressful I hope,” you teased lightly.

“I hope my father didn’t give you and the king a hard time,” you said to him, “I know he can get a bit…well, he’s just very notably himself.”

Leon's gaze softened as he listened to your words, his mind briefly flitting back to the meeting and the king's ultimatum.

"Your father didn't give us a hard time," he replied with a slight smirk, "He can be... expressive, but that's what makes him unique. I can handle him."

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes searching your face, "But enough about the meeting. I wanted to spend some time with you."

A warm smile reached your lips, he wanted to spend time with you? You could feel your heart beat fast in the best way possible.

“You do?” You whispered teasingly as you couldn’t hide your smile, “Did the crown prince miss me already?” You chuckled softly.

You took a small step closer, hesitating for a moment before you rested your hands on his shoulders, “You better say you did,” you muttered in a fake threatening tone. Leon chuckled at your teasing, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He couldn't deny that he did miss you, but he would never admit it outright. He raised an eyebrow at your hands on his shoulders, but he made no move to remove them. Instead, he reached up and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him until there was barely any space between you.

"Is that so?" he teased back, "Are you threatening me, my future Queen?"

"Perhaps I do miss you," he said, his voice lowering, "Just a little."

You chuckled and stared at him with fondness in your eyes, for a moment, memories of the meeting were gone from his mind. Right now, it was just you two.

“I missed you too,” you muttered, “just a little,” you repeated his words with a grin. But you did miss him. The whole day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Leon's heart skipped a beat at your admission that you missed him.

“So, what else happened in the meeting?” You asked quietly, not knowing what else to say, “Did the king say anything about…heirs?”

He looked down at you and his eyes darkened slightly, but he quickly schooled his expression and kept his voice casual.

"Heirs?" he repeated with feigned nonchalance, "Yes, the king mentioned heirs. He expects us to produce them... sooner rather than later."

Your face started to grow red. You understood that as a married couple, your duty was to produce an heir since you’ll be the new rulers of the kingdom. But at the same time, didn’t it seem like things were progressing too fast in your relationship? But maybe he was just being pressured by the king so you thought that deep down he probably only wants to fulfill his duty.

“Soon?” I repeated quietly, “very well,” I whispered and nodded, “When do you want to start?”

His hands on your hips tightened slightly in response to your question, his voice low and huskier than before, "Tonight," he answered, his eyes meeting yours, "I want to start tonight."

You nodded again as you looked up at him, “Alright, we’ll start tonight,” you whispered softly, “I’ll let my maids know so I can prepare.”

Part of you was a bit scared, you were pure and you didn’t know how it would feel to be intimate with someone. But you knew Leon wouldn’t hurt me voluntarily. So you trusted him, which surprised you.

“I should go prepare,” you whispered to him as you let go of his shoulders. He let go of your hips when you did, and he watched you closely, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll see you in our quarters," he said softly, his tone both authoritative and tender, "Be ready for me when I get there."

You nodded and gave him a small smile, “I will,” you replied softly before you left the room. There was much to do and you wanted to look your best for him for tonight. You walked along the castle halls until you found your maids, letting them know about tonight and what needs to be done.

Leon watched you leave the room, his mind swirling with thoughts of what was to come. Guilt and desire warred within him, but he pushed them aside and focused on the task at hand.

As the hours ticked by slowly, Leon found himself pacing the corridors, waiting anxiously for the moment when he could finally return to his quarters and see you. The king's order echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what was expected from him.

As the sun began to set and the hall grew dark, he finally made his way back towards your shared quarters.

The rest of the day was very busy for you. Your maids put all sorts of herbs and creams on your body to ensure your skin was soft as milk. They also did the same to your hair so it would shine and be as soft as silk. You stood in front of the mirror, watching as your maids dressed you in the appropriate dress for tonight. Candles were lit for the ambiance that made the room all more intimate. You were wearing a white night dress robe with lace around the edges, the material being thin and almost see through. You were wearing nothing under your dress as you knew what tonight meant. Your hair was down, all in its natural glory. Under the moonlight you looked like a goddess.

He stepped closer to the door, his hand reaching out to knock on the door before he hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Leon's breath hitched the moment he saw you. You looked like a vision, soft as silk and as beautiful as the night sky. Heat pooled in his gut as he fully saw the see-through dress you were wearing.

You heard the knock and turned around to find Leon. You were a bit nervous, did you look good? Desirable? You curtsied to him and smiled softly, “My lord.”

“You’re here,” you muttered softly. Leon's eyes roamed over you from head to toe, taking in your figure and the thin night dress. He swallowed hard, his pulse racing and his body responding to your mere presence.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes, but there was also a mixture of desire and anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his hands aching to touch you, but he held back for the moment.

"I am," he replied in a soft, gruff voice, "And you look..." he trailed off, lost for words for a moment as he drank in your beauty. Your smile widened when he was at a loss for words, did you really look that good? You twirled around for him, your dress spinning with me. The candle lit room caused the warm flames to dance along on your skin, the shine from the creams encapsulating the richness and softness of your skin.

“Good?” You asked softly, not sure if you actually looked beautiful.

"Good doesn't even begin to cover it," he murmured huskily, his eyes locked on your figure, "You look divine."

He took a step closer to you, his hands twitching at his sides as he ached to touch you.

Your heart skipped a beat, he thought you looked divine. That was the best compliment he’s ever given you. You smiled before you turned around and walked over to your bed, getting on it and laying in the middle of the mattress as you looked over at him, waiting for him to come closer and start touching you. Your hair pooled around the pillows as your dress rode up to your ankles, revealing your supple skin.

The room was covered in candles, a sweet aroma that added to the sensuality of the moment. Leon watched you lie down on the bed, his heart thudding in his chest at the sight of you on the soft mattress, looking like a goddess waiting to be worshipped.

His eyes drank in the sight of your bare skin, his gaze roaming up from your ankles, up to your dress, and then to your face. He swallowed hard, his control starting to slip as he slowly approached the bed. Each step was deliberate, his eyes darkened with a mixture of heat and need. As he reached the edge of the bed, he placed one knee on the mattress, towering above you.

Leon could see the mixture of nervousness and desire in your eyes, and he understood the trust you had in him. He took a moment to collect himself, his own emotions and desire threatening to overtake him.

His eyes roaming your body, taking in the sight of you laid out on the bed like a tempting offering. He swallowed hard, the need to touch you and claim you was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his fingers tracing a path down to your exposed skin, "You're beautiful," he whispered coarsely.

“Thank you, my lord,” you whispered softly and almost breathlessly. He’s never touched you like this. You’ve only ever held hands and kissed and that was yesterday. You hesitantly brought a hand over to him, your fingers ghostly hovering over his clothed chest as your eyes wandered on his chest. His shirt made it so that his muscles were a bit noticeable.

Your eyes then looked back up at his before they flicked down to his lips. You looked back at his blue eyes, noticing the dilated pupils almost obscuring the blue around it. Leon's breathing grew heavier as he felt your hand hovering over his chest, your touch like a ghost against his skin. He watched as your eyes darted down to his lips, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in response.

“You can touch me,” he said gruffly, his voice low and hoarse, “I won't break.”

He reached down and gently grasped your wrist, guiding your hand onto his chest so you could feel the warmth and firmness of his muscles. He watched your expression closely, his own eyes darkened with need.

Your breath hitched for many reasons; his hand on your wrist, your palm against his warm chest, his reassurance—it all made you a bit breathless.

You pressed your hand on his chest, feeling the muscles through his shirt. Your eyes drifted down to his hand on your wrist, he made your wrist look so small with his big hand. It made your heart flutter.

You looked back up at him, your lips slightly parted as you touched him. Even if it was just his chest. Leon's heart raced as he felt your hand on his chest, pressing and feeling the muscles below his shirt. It was the softest touch, but it sent jolts of pleasure down his spine.

He tightened his grip on your wrist, the feeling of your slender, soft skin under his rough, calloused hand made his blood boil. He had to fight the urge to just tear the dress off of you and take you right there and then. Instead, he watched as you took in the feel of him, your touch lingering, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to maintain control.

You brought my other hand to his cheek, your hand trailing down his neck before you also let it rest on his chest. Right as he held your wrist gently.

You looked up at him again, your doe eyes looking at him so innocently, “My lord…” you whispered quietly before your eyes fell back in his lips. Your nightdress sleeves slipped down your shoulders, exposing your collarbone as well as the top of your breasts but not entirely.

Your touch was both innocent and sensual, igniting a fire in Leon's core that he was struggling to control. He swallowed hard as he watched your sleeves slip down, revealing more of your creamy, supple skin, and his eyes darkened with growing desire.

"I'm no lord here, not to you," he responded gruffly, his voice hoarse with need, "Say my name."

Your stomach flipped when you heard his words and his tone. He sounded so needy and just for you. But what made you more flustered was that he wanted you to say his name.

No title at all. For the three months that you’ve been married, you’ve always called him by his title out of respect as he was initially rude to you. But now that things have changed, maybe you should start calling him by his first name.

“Leon,” you whispered softly, the name rolling off your tongue with ease. As if it felt right to say his name.

The sound of you whispering his name sent a shiver down Leon’s spine. It was a soft, shy whisper but to him, it sounded like music to his ears. He brought his other hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your soft skin, "Again," he murmured, his voice thick with need, "Say it again."

You leaned into his hand as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, “Leon,” you repeated his name again.

Leon couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped him when you said his name again, his grip on your wrist unconsciously tightening at the sound. You spread your legs a bit so he could settle between your legs, causing your dress to slip up your knees to expose your calves. His grip on your wrist was firm but gentle and you moved your free hand to your night dress.

Your fingers undid the knot of your robe before you put your hand back on his chest, your dress opening to reveal your naked body to him. Your breasts looked soft and shiny from the candle lights. The skin looking so supple and creamy, almost like milk. His eyes darkened with hunger as he looked at your now exposed body, his breath hitching in his throat. You looked so soft, so creamy, so perfect, and the heat that pooled in his groin was almost unbearable. He let go of your wrist and brought his hand down to the opening of your robe, pushing it further down to reveal more of you to him. Laid out like a meal just for him to devour. Leon's breathing grew more ragged as he took in the sight of your bare body, his eyes slowly roaming over every inch of you as if he was trying to memorize each curve and detail.

He ached to touch you, to feel your soft, warm skin beneath his hands, but he held himself back, just taking in the sight for a moment.

“Gods, you are exquisite," he murmured hoarsely, his eyes darkened with desire and lust. He couldn't look away even if he tried, you looked like a vision in the candlelight.

You looked up at him. Your hesitant hands slowly rested back on his chest, your fingers resting along the strings that hung loose from his shirt. Leon's heart thundered in his chest as your hands moved back to his chest, your fingers gently playing with the strings of his shirt. The feeling of your touch sent sparks of heat through his body, and he had to remind himself to stay calm.

He reached up a hand and gently took a hold of yours, bringing it up to his lips and gently kissing each finger.

You watched attentively with parted lips as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed each finger, your breathing quickened and you felt myself grow hot. Such a sincere and innocent gesture made you want him more.

There was glint of something in my eyes, something you’ve never felt until now. Was it respect? Kindness? Affection? You didn’t know but you did know that you were starting to feel something heavier than want. Something that could only ever be read in books.

Leon's eyes met yours as you cup his face with your other hand, your gentle touch sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The look in your eyes was new to him, but it stirred something within him. Something more profound than mere want.

He continued to kiss your fingers, his lips ghosting over your knuckles, your palm, the inside of your wrist. He gently placed your palm against his cheek and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he basked in the feel of your skin against him.

"You're so gentle," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse with an unnamed emotion.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered back to his words. Leon's heart ached at your words, hearing the sincerity and affection in your voice. The way you held his face in your hands, so gently and softly, made something inside him stir.

He opened his eyes, looking back at you with an unreadable expression, his gaze intense and almost vulnerable.

"You won't hurt me," he assured you, his voice low, "And even if you do... I don't care," he reached up and gently placed his hand over one of yours, "I don't care as long as I'm with you like this."

Your heart swelled at his words, what you were eeling frightened you a bit. You didn’t know anything about what you were feeling right now.

You gently pulled his face down towards yours, your eyes glancing at his lips before you looked back at his eyes. Leon's breath hitched as you pulled his face down towards yours, and when he felt your soft, warm lips on his, something inside of him snapped. He gently but firmly brought his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him as he deepened the kiss.

He had intended to take things slow, but the feeling of your lips on his, the heat of your body against him, it was too much to resist.

He moved one hand up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head to kiss you more deeply, his tongue gently seeking entrance into your mouth. You gasped and opened your mouth, feeling his tongue dance with yours. Your hands fell from his face to his chest, resting there for a moment as you relished in the feeling of his lips and tongue. Savoring him, you didn’t care if he tasted like his dinner, you were tasting him and you felt him close. That was all that mattered to you.

You kissed him back, pushing your tongue inside his mouth. He was the oasis and you were a thirsty wanderer, you needed him and you didn’t realize how much until this moment.

He couldn't get enough of you. You were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and he wanted more. He groaned against your lips as you kissed him back, his hand moving further up your neck and tangling into your hair as he pulled you even closer to him, his body growing needy and greedy for you. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly, fisting the material as you held on to him. You didn’t want to let go. Your body was responding to him in a way you’ve never felt before.

Your hands were quick to lift his shirt up, breaking the kiss momentarily as you undressed him with gentleness. Leon's eyes darkened with desire as you lifted his shirt, exposing his toned, muscled chest to your gaze. He watched your eyes as they roamed over his scars, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers gently traced over them.

He could see the way you looked at him, with a mixture of awe and admiration, and it only made him want you more. He leaned down, his lips hovering above yours as he spoke in a deep, husky voice, "Touch me, touch me as if I am your only."

Your eyes drifted back up to look at his, his words stirring something deep in your gut, “You are,” you whispered back in a breathless voice. Your hands roamed around his torso, feeling each contour and dip from his muscles and scars.

Leon's heart quickened at your words, his body responding to your touch, your tenderness, your love. Every caress of your hands, every gentle touch, made him feel alive. He didn't know what to make of the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. He had married you out of obligation, but now, with your hands on him, it felt like so much more.

He took one of your hands in his and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles before pressing it against his chest, over his heart, "Feel that?" he whispered.

Your hand was pressed against his chest, over his heart and you could feel how fast it was beating, a reflection of your own heart as well. You looked back up at him and nodded.

“I do,” you whispered back, his heart was beating fast, almost uncontrollably. It caused my breath to hitch and your words to cut short.

"It means you have mine," he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion. "My heart. My soul. Everything that I am, it's yours."

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin, "Only yours," he breathed, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart beat faster and you could feel yourself turn to mush. Your heart ached and your stomach flipped inside you at his words. He was yours, everything about him.

“Leon,” you whispered, staring at his eyes to try and look for signs of deceit but you could only find honesty. Leon could see the look in your eyes, the mix of surprise, disbelief, and awe, and it only served to make his own heart beat faster. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but the words had slipped out on their own. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory.

"Say it back," he breathed, his voice hoarse and almost desperate, "Say you're mine," he needed to hear it, to know that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

“I’m yours,” you whispered as you looked at him, “My entire being,” uou continued, suddenly feeling the words spill out of you with no control.

“Let me have you for myself and myself only,” you whispered in an almost pleading tone, “let me be the only woman in your life.”

Your eyes were basically begging him to have you as his sole woman. You didn’t want him to have concubines, you wanted to be his only lady. Leon's heart clenched at your words, his breath catching in his throat. The desperation, the plea in your voice, it hit him hard. He knew he had been with other women before, it was expected from him, but the thought of having anyone else but you after tonight felt wrong, felt foreign.

"You are," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion as his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, "You are the only woman in my life. From this day forth, and every day after."

Your heart swelled and you could feel your eyes glaze over with nothing but love. That’s right. What you were feeling was love and it was overwhelming.

You crashed your lips against his, gripping his arms as you pulled his body down against yours until you were pressed together like mush. You kissed him deeply and passionately, pouring all your emotions into the kiss.

Leon groaned deeply as you pulled him down on top of you, feeling the heat of your body against his, the softness of your lips on his, it was all too much. He moved his hands down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he ground against you, his body responding to yours with a primal need. You gasped against his lips as you felt him ground against you, feeling his bulge through his trouser press against your bare core making me feel some type of way.

He kissed you back with equal fervor, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you and claiming you as his own. He wanted to feel all of you, to be inside you, to make you his. The thought of claiming you, of making you his completely, of filling you with his seed and making you carry his child, sent a shiver down his spine.

He ground against you again, his hips moving on their own, seeking friction and relief from the ache that was building up inside him.

"You want that," he breathed, his voice low and rough, "You want me to take you, make you mine?"

“I’m already yours,” you whispered breathlessly, feeling him ground against you again, your heat and wetness obviously showing how much you wanted him to take you.

You moved against him, grinding your hips against his bulge as you also felt a tight feeling that sought relief. It was an ache that was unfamiliar to you. The sound of your words and the feel of you moving against him made Leon's body ache for you. He growled as you ground your hips against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he returned your movements, pushing against you and causing a wave of pleasure to wash over him.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes roaming over your naked body as he continued to move against you, "I never want to stop touching you."

You let out a quiet moan, feeling pleasure coursing through my veins like electricity, “Don’t stop,” you whispered. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling even if he was still wearing his trousers.

Leon let out a guttural moan, his breathing growing ragged as he continued to move against you, his body aching to be inside you, to be one with you. Your words were like a command and he knew he had to obey, he didn't want to stop, he didn't want to hold back. He never had, but now, the consequences would be different.

But he didn't care.

"I don't want to stop," he groaned, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers, "I don't know if I can even if I tried."

Your eyes trailed down to his hand on the waistband of his trousers, watching as he started to fully undress himself and show you his bare form. He was like a drug you grew addicted to, you also don’t think you could stop even if you tried. Now, all you wanted was to be with him. To be his lady forever as you ruled over the kingdom as King and Queen.

“Me neither,” you whispered as you looked back up into his blue eyes. Leon was barely holding on to the last bit of control he had. Your words, your breathless voice, it was driving him to a frenzy.

He lowered himself down, his body resting against yours, his hardened length pressed against your wet core, the tip barely grazing your entrance. He groaned deeply at the feeling, his hips instinctively moving against you. You whimpered as he started to push his hard cock inside you, filling you when he hasn’t even started.

"You don't know what you do to me," he breathed, his face buried in your shoulder, "What you make me feel."

You let out a shaky breath as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his back. Leon groaned as he entered you, the tightness and warmth of your body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was ecstasy and heaven all in one. He lifted his face from your shoulder and looked down at you, his eyes full of love and desire.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice hoarse, "So tight, so perfect."

He began to move slowly, his hips rocking against yours, his hands caressing your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on your neck and chest.

As he started to move inside you, slowly thrusting into you, you rolled your head back against the pillows and closed your eyes as you relished in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. His hips rocked slowly but you could feel so well, you had finally become one.

You could only moan softly in his ear, savoring him and holding him close to you. Leon continued to move inside you, his pace steady and slow, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible. He could feel his heart slamming against his chest, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. He needed more, he needed all of you.

He lifted himself up, resting on his forearms, and looked down at you, "Look at me," he breathed, "I want to see your face."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him as he moved deep inside you, your lips parted and your cheeks flushed as you moaned and gasped breathlessly. As he lifted himself up, your hands fell down from his back and laid on either side of your head.

The tempo was slow but sensual, wanting to make this moment last longer. The sounds we made echoed through the room. You arched your back as he started to move faster, slowly starting to feel his hips slam against your, the sound of skin clapping echoing in your mind. Leon continued his pace as he watched you unravel beneath him. The sounds of your moans and gasps, the way your body trembled and clenched around him, it was all too much.

Your moans became short and breathy, an indication of how much he was taking you to the edge as well. You rolled your eyes back and gasped quietly, you couldn’t hold much longer. The faster and harder he went, the harder it was to hold back. He could feel himself on the edge of release, his body taut and his muscles coiled, ready to explode.

You looked up at him, making sure he was seeing your face as you were so close to coming. Your body started to tremble slowly at each thrust. You panted heavily as your hands gripped the bedsheets under you and before you knew it, you looked at him, eyes full of bliss and pleasure as you let go and felt yourself spasm and clench around him, finally coming on him.

As he watched you come undone, he felt himself falling over the edge as well. His hips moved frantically, his body taking over as he chased his own release.

You let out whimpers as he started to move frantically, thrusting against you like an animal in heat and desperate for release. He let out a guttural moan as he found his own pleasure, his body tensing and shuddering as he found release inside you.

He snapped his hips against you before he spilled his seed deep inside you, coating your walls white with his cum. You were left panting and sweaty, your body suddenly feeling tired from the intimate activities so you closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath. Leon breathed heavily as he collapsed on top of you, his body damp with sweat and his heart racing. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, letting your familiar fragrance fill his senses. He knew what he had just done, the thought of seeing you grow round and heavy with his child filled him with a sense of joy and possessiveness.

Your breathing has settled down and you slowly started to succumb to sleep, feeling your body grow exhausted and limp. As he remained on top of you, your head moved to the side, seemingly asleep as your body was so tired.

Never once would you have thought that you’d share a night like this. Previously, he was cold, harsh, and rude to you. You almost believed he’d never even hold your hand. And yet something in him changed and here you are.

He knew he had been harsh and cold with you in the beginning, but he had to be. It was to maintain a certain image, a facade. But as time passed, he realized that he was falling for you.

He gently pulled himself off of you, careful not to wake you, and then laid down beside you. He pulled the covers over the both of you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he, too, allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

[sacharinee]

thinking ab peter having a bad tiring day and reader giving him face massages and body massages after they take a bath ‼️

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 780

a/n: hi anon!! i loved writing for this request sm so thank u for sending it <3 i did, however, completely forget to write abt the part about them taking the bath together. im so sorry 😭 but i hope u still enjoy :(( about one spider-man kiss and a ton of domestic!peter

peter knows exactly what he needs right now after a long day. 

there’s only one thing in the world that could make up for having a shitty day and that’s you. 

but unfortunately for peter, when he patters into your shared apartment, you’re nowhere to be found.

“babe?” he calls out. 

he strips himself of his shoes and walks down the short hall to your bedroom, only to find the closet open and your work clothes missing. peter skrinks at your absence and pouts, “great.”

he ponders about taking a nap, but it’s a quarter to nine and he’d rather be awake when you arrive home. 

when his stomach growls, he realizes he’s gone almost an entire day without a proper meal, save for the granola bar you shoved in his hand before he kissed you goodbye. 

as he enters the kitchen, he finds a note left on the counter, scribbled in your handwriting,

“emergency shift at the hospital, back by 9 tonite. food in the fridge, love you!”

peter frowns at your note, sticks it onto the fridge, and pulls out the meal you prepared for him.

he heats up the food and chews the stale chicken slowly. he really misses you. even with your bland food and lack of seasoning, he still enjoys anything from you. you try your best for him. 

when he’s finished cleaning his dishes, peter debates on showering. he wants to wait for you, to take a nice hot shower with you, and clean each other’s stress away. but he’s really stinky from work, and he’d rather just go to bed with you. so he undresses and takes a long shower alone.

—

peter’s prayers are answered when he reenters the shared bedroom dressed in pajamas. 

“hi baby,” you chirp. you take off your glasses and set the book you were reading aside. 

peter’s heart swells at the sight. you’re laying on your side of the bed, hair in a bun, away from your face. you’re dressed in your boyfriend’s plaid boxers and a geeky t-shirt you stole from his dresser.

the tv is playing some rerun of your favorite tv show as he crawls himself across the bed and plops himself in between your open legs. 

peter nests his heavy head upon your pelvis and lets out a deep sigh. your palms run down his clad back, kneading the tense muscles.

“did you eat yet?” he tries to nod his head, “yea, chicken was good, super tasty, thanks, y/n/n” he replies.

he may or not be telling you the whole truth. you’re cooking wasn’t amazing, but he would never tell you that. 

peter flips himself over, staring at you adoringly upside down. your soft hands trace his buff arms, comfort spreading throughout his skin from your touch, “what happened today, petey?”

he exhales, furrowing his brows, and squeezes his eyes shut. he juts his bottom lip out while you weave your fingers and pull through his damps locks. 

“everything went wrong today. everything,” he takes a deep breath, “i was late for biochem, had a pop quiz for psych. not that it was hard but still. i forgot i had tutoring today too, so i'm out fifteen bucks. and we were understaffed for work, so that was a bust. so many mean customers in queens,” he takes a look at you, “we should move somewhere else.”

you snicker at his comment and slide your fingers over his funky left eyebrow, smoothing out the knit and massaging his temples, “yea, like where?” 

you love all versions of peter, but you think this is your favorite. relaxed at your touch, devoting himself wholeheartedly to you. he’s embraced and fully engulfed by you, like putty in your hands. 

“like,” your boyfriend seems distracted, voice deep, staring at you with nothing but affection, “sunnyside? maybe?” peter licks his lips and clears his throat, “just somewhere safer, nicer. for you.”

you’re beaming down at his face; your warm hands cup his cheeks while you land a long and overdue tender kiss upside down. you feel peter smile into the kiss, exhaling through his nose in contentment. 

you keep your hands on his face and gently caress the soft skin as you pull away.

“that sounds nice,” your heart squeezes at the thought as he continues, “we could settle down there, have a family, you know? white picket fence and all. ‘m picturing you in your hot scrubs, bringin’ home the bacon. and i’ll be at home, taking care of the kids.” 

you’re giggling at the scene as you chime in, “and we could have family dinners every saturday night, or- ooh! i could take yoga classes sunday mornings and-”

peter snickers at you, “what you need are some cooking classes.”

gasping, you flick his forehead, “you said you loved my cooking!”

[sant-riley]

Domestic Simon Riley? 👀 -🪴

[With you] [Simon 'Ghost' Riley domestic headcanons]

(Romantic Ghost x Reader)

Summary: Simon is your disconcerning boyfriend, to most people it seems as if he'd be incapable of gentle touches and affection, you know better though.

More info: You're apart of 141, no one knows you two are dating, you are younger than him and are shorter than him in this.

Warnings: usage of the word Girl once but it is more geared towards fem! (This is so fucking self indulgent im sorry) possibly ooc for Ghost (idc tbh) , do these even count as domestic? Idk ive never dated someone, nothing else that I know of but do let me know if there is anything that needs to be tagged!

Ghost is so painfully subtle in public with the way he treats you, he'll never outwardly do anything romantic but his actions and how he looks at you while he does it makes people pause.

In your own quarters or homes though, its different.

He's extremely attentive to you, your wants, your needs, your dislikes, he knows it all, he classifies it as important as missions. Simon didn't have a good father growing up, he didn't get to see what a good husband was supposed to be like, he's learning from the bottom up and he takes it seriously.

You'll never have to ask him to make breakfast, he's always up before you and has it cooked on the table with your drink.

Knows exactly when it's the time you wake up, and if he's able he'll go wake you up personally, brushing your hair out of your face and gently running his fingers through to detangle it from your sleeping.

Despite how cute you are sleeping in just his large hoodie, he won't let you sleep in, y'all got stuff to do.

He'll pick you up and bring you down to the table, pressing a kiss to your temple, if that doesn't wake you up (you usually will look up for a real kiss), he isn't afraid to grab your face in one hand and just, smoosh your face, he knows you hate it but it's gonna wake you up bc you're trying to slap his hand away.

He sits across from you, but reaches out one arm across the table with his palm facing up so you can grab it whenever, he likes it when you play with his hands.

Don't get me started on Simon and washing dishes, he always takes over washing duty and let's you dry ‘em. But every other time, he's gonna let his hands stay wet and will tell you to “think fast” and flick water over you (if you truly hate it, he'll stop though)

you know that saying of peeling oranges? He's the biggest proof that there is somewhere out there that will do it for you without question. Doesn't matter what it is, if you don't prefer driving, he has no complaints about driving you everywhere, if you don't like washing your hair? Just tell him what products and what order you use them in, just sit there and relax.

If you wear makeup and you're too tired to take it off yourself, he'll do it for you and it makes me emotional.

In your shared bathroom, he sets you on top the counter and uses one hand to gently grab your chin, taking the remover and firmly rubbing off your eyeshadow/eyeliner/blush/etc, afterwards he'll murmer a “that's my girl.” (He loves you with or without makeup, but he loves you for you, doesn't matter which you choose to do that day or any day)

He covers the corners of the meeting tables when you bend down to grab at the pen you dropped, it's just second nature for him to protect you from hurting yourself. He's yanked you from the street, picked you up just with one arm to make sure you don't walk into something gross on the street, gotten in front of strangers who try and get in your face for something. His body completely covers your own, and he always has weapons on his person, he isn't afraid to resort to maiming someone for you, you're his number one priority.

Simon loves having you sleep on top of him, he finds the weight a good reminder that you're there, you're not going anywhere if you do, he'll notice right away. If you get up to go to the kitchen, he'll sleepily follow you and just stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time til you realize he's there. He'll make fun of you too “You should know ‘m right here, what kind of soldier isn't aware-” “Simon, I'm literally in just a bra and boxers right now.”

He demands your attention, this is one he'll do on bass in front of others bc technically he can get a with it. You're next to a recruit he doesn't like? Suddenly there's papers on a recent mission he needs your signature on, or he needs you for special 141 training reasons (he wants you to come with him to the dining hall, he's hungry and he doesn't want to go alone)

Dude stands right up against your back, in every scenario. His chest is probably an inch away from your back. He's playfully called your shadow by Price and the rest of the guys.

He grabs your hips alot, usually just to rest his hands there, occasionally rubbing small circles into the flesh, humming.

Simon will try and subtly leave as well if you leave the room, he gives it 10 minutes before he makes his way out to find wherever you wandered off too 

Price finds it fucking hilarious, he'll look down at his watch and mentally countdown to when Simon makes his escape. Simon can fool most people but not John, the way Ghost will tap his foot and roll his shoulders are tell tale signs that he's had enough of being there.

He'll dance if you want him to, though he simply sways with you in his arms, if you're of a specific culture, he'll try his best to learn it but no promises, while he is fast learner and perfects everything he does, he's a big man, he's not that graceful.

Without thinking if he sees you're cold, he's stripping off his jacket to give it to you, he doesn't ask, he just moves behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

He'll take off his mask with you, and let you trace the scars that litter his face, let you trace his features too, he's fallen asleep to you doing it and he doesn't know how much you cried silently when he did.

Simon practices new jokes on you, to get your opinion of them until he can tell the others, the louder you groan the better the joke is in his eyes.

Soap asks why you don't even react anymore and you just sigh. You are tired.

When he's especially annoyed and done with the day, he just shoves his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a death grip while he takes deep breaths, in the least weird possible, your scent and body so close to him helps him destress.

One thing he makes a huge point to do is to clean your guns for you, yes you should do it yourself but ever since y'all have gotten together, he's taken it upon himself.

He's scared, more scared than anything that something will go wrong when you're both not on the same mission, this is just a way he can ensure your gun will fire correctly and efficiently, that you can defend yourself when he isn't there.

Speaking of weapons, he gives you one of his personal knives for you to keep, he'll ask for it back only to sharpen it, everything has to stay in its best shape.

Likes when you drape yourself over him when he's sitting, alas he is just a man so he likes to feel your chest against his back.

Pulls you into his lap if you walk by, he'll let you get up if you truly want to but he'll position you to sit sideways and will rub your legs as he watches whatever is on the TV.

For anyone who has arthritis, Ghost will take the time to rub your ointments into your hands, he knows what weather makes then worse and keeps his own tube of it onhand so he's prepared.

He's always buying you things, he knows that it's not necessary but for him, it sees it as ‘if for some reason I fail at something else, at least I can provide this’ someone hug him he's fighting for his life.

Stocks up on every single essential you can ever need, your comfort food and snacks? Always on base and always at your flat, if you two are walking around the shoppes and he sees you eyeball anything, bet your ass he's going online to order it for you immediately, and when it shows up, he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a big deal, it's just money. Which is very cute but also a ps5 is NOT cheap sir, you can't just-

[elsweetheart]

Can I request something? You see, my friends tell me that I tend to flirt without even noticing. And I've noticed I indeed do that. I look people in the eyes and then look at their lips, I lick my own lips while doing that. I also tend to say softs "hmmm" "uhuum" to show them I'm paying attention. But I don't do that with that intention, because when I WANT to flirt, I'm a mess. Can you do Ellie or Abby (you choose) having a crush/dating someone who does that?

omg !!! me !!!!!!! i love this yes yes yea

im gonna do this w ellie because there’s not much to say about abby other than she will simply just bend you over and -

good view

🎀 short drabble in a hc format ?? idk wht this is. pre-relationship ellie x reader :)

• you were kinda out of it. didn’t get much sleep, and the weather was just warm enough to wear a tank top but a breeze still passed through the abandoned building you were all currently held up in, so you were fiddling with the thin cardigan you wore, pulling them over your hands. it put you in a relaxed, sleepy, slow mood.

• you and ellie weren’t together yet, so of course at any given opportunity when she sees you sitting alone she’d make conversation. she slid a chair over to where you were sat alone at a small table, straddling it backwards resting her arms on the back of the chair.

• “did you call dibs on a room? there’s not much choice, i mean they’re all pretty shitty.” she smirked light heartedly as you turned to face her.

• “yeah, picked the one with the good view.” you smiled hazily having being broken from your thoughts and your sleepy daydreams. you were blinking slowly, ellie always thought your eyelashes looked extra pretty when you did that.

• “nice, my window faces a brick wall.” she comment with an eye roll and you giggled which made her features noticeably perk up when she saw the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip mid giggle to stifle it. she tried not to stare, launching into a story about the time her and Joel passed through a fancy abandoned building and she called dibs on the fancy penthouse bedroom and made Joel sleep in the maid quarters.

• you were listening intently, at first, but you were tired and her features were just so distracting. not even because of your huge crush on her, she just was… interesting. your eyes dragged down to her bottom lip where she had acquired a fresh cut from some kind of scuffle she’d wound up in and watched the way it moved with her mouth as she spoke. “mhm.” you breathed lightly to let her know you were still sort of listening.

• she felt her heart in her throat as she watched your fluttery eyes stare at her lips and completely stumbled over what she was going to say. “it was funny because he was— um… it was funny because fucking—uh…” she lost track of what she was trying to say and this caused you to casually glance back up at her eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly in confusion making them look extra big and doe like which did not her help case.

• “wh’s wrong?” you spoke so softly she could barely hear it over the blood thumping in her ears when she realised she was blushing. what made it worse, is she watched you in real time notice her blushing too, your pretty eyes gliding across her face. “c’mon dude.” she laughed, sitting back away from where she was leaning on the chair to wipe her hands down her face.

• “i’m so confused.” you giggled back and she chuckled, fiddling with the chipped wooden table corner for a moment before looking back up at you with a little more determination.

• “can i finish my story please? without you eyeballing me like that?” her tone was jokey, slightly putting on a voice but you could tell she meant it. you sat back a little, tilting your head to the side like a confused puppy. “and like that.” she laughed before flickering her own eyes to your mouth. “s’distracting.” was all she needed to say and you sort of caught on and raised your eyebrows a little.

• “oh…” you willed her to speak more with her stare, so she did. “you’re pretty. drives me crazy, just a little bit.” she scrunched her nose and you smiled, letting it drop slightly as you held her stare. she cleared her throat, feeling overwhelmed. “anyway, as i was saying before you rudely interrupted with your face.” she continued which made you laugh. perhaps you needed to be more mindful about how you looked at people, however you did enjoy teasing ellie.

[saber-slutt]

i told you i'd see you later, one way or another (kinktober day 1)

"Who is this diva?" you ask. it's me. kinktober began and i rose from my summer hibernation. i'm still embarrassed bc i revealed i was gonna write for kinktober in my uni's music committee. Guilherme if you ever see this i am so sorry you had to hear that. guilherme is a cutie patootie i love him so much. he's like a journalistic writer. anyways, hello! i'm gonna take my fanfic writing seriously again. i'll be posting on ao3 too if that's more convenient. same titles as here, under the name mostlyajoke. I hope this one's up to par guys, sorry if it's not, im a bit rusty. any comments, criticisms, etc., are encouraged, so i can improve and also i love to yap. anyways day 1 for me on october 13th lets goooo

headers from djarrex

Day 1 - Wet Dream

He laughed your name breathily as he wished you a goodnight. Anakin was always a gentleman, walking you back to your quarters if he happened to pass by the créche at night, which had been happening more and more. you worked in the Jedi Corps at the temple, helping tend to the younglings. Yes, you loved the job because you truly enjoyed teaching and playing with the young Jedi, despite the war picking up in the galaxy, but also because you got to see him. Him. He made time to visit the younglings, never too tired to tell a story or practice basic force maneuvers with them. Anakin was especially never too busy to talk to you, to tell you you looked pretty today or to ask how your day had been. Maker, he was beautiful, with curly brown locs and piercing green eyes, eyes that would scan you when you told him anything, so you could tell he was listening intently. You loved these interactions, though you knew he was just being polite. After all, Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi, if not one of the most well-known or powerful by this point. He’d never have serious interest in you, no, he would never break the Jedi code.

         Still, when he walked you to your room, a part of you always longed that he would ask to take you somewhere, somewhere private, just for the two of you. Or that he would give you communication to his comm. But he didn’t, and as you would close the door behind you, you’d try to shake your schoolgirl crush from your thoughts. Today seemed to be another one of these days, or so you had thought, until as he turned down the hallway from your door, you heard him say, “I’ll be seeing you soon, beautiful.��

         You floated through the rest of the night, his words replaying incessantly. They were so bold, furthering you from the idea that he was just being polite. Still, you tried to remember that at the end of the day, he was a Jedi, and you were not. Even if you were, you two could never be together. But his words were on repeat, what did he mean “soon?” Your thoughts did not settle as you get ready for bed, and still did not cease as you tossed and turned into the early morning.

        “Mmm fuck…fuck,” you whimpered out, clawing at brown locs as a tongue drilled into your pussy. The man buried between your legs pulled back for a second to grunt a small “language” before dipping back down to lick hard and flat strips through your folds. “C-can’t help it, feels so good.”

         You could practically feel his smirk against your slit, his tongue only gaining more speed. His tongue toyed with your clit and your hole, neglecting neither. A sheen sweat overlaid you. You had never felt so warm, so comforted, even though you knew you were dreaming, it had never felt so real or vivid. Just then, a sharp sensation was felt between your legs, but then, euphoria. The man was sucking on your clit, hard. You wanted to see him, to see the man invading your dreams. You whimpered again, lazily stroking his hair. He got the hint and raised himself up to look into your eyes, and to flash you a smile.

         Anakin.

        “You’re beautiful” he whispered, lowering himself back down to your pussy, throwing your legs over his shoulders, “and sweet. And not just your personality too.”

         You moaned. In the back of your mind, you knew you were dreaming, but Maker, it felt so real. Anakin continued his attack on you, licking and sucking both your clit and entrance. With each passing minute, he tightened his grip on your hips, leaving bruises. His nose bumped into your clit, his long, curly hair tickled your thighs, and the wet sounds echoing in the room were filthy. You were euphoric. The man you loved was pleasing you, solely focused on you, like he cared for nothing else in the world. You were nearing your peak of pleasure, whines becoming sharper, and you gripped his hair again. He went harder on your pussy. His name began to flow from your mouth.

         “Anakin, please, don’t stop, oh maker, Anakin,”

         “Shhh, let it happen,” 

          Your back arched and you let out a guttural moan, raspy. Your pussy spasmed as pleasure spread throughout your stomach and beyond. Anakin slowed his assault, letting you ride out your high, but he still made sure to lick up every drop. He pulled back to look at you when you made noises indicating overstimulation. His lips were shiny with your juices before he licked them. You were breathless and blushing, wishing to form words but too sated to try. He crawled forward to kiss you deeply, comfortingly. Anakin fell to lay on his side, pulling you to his chest.

         “Good, huh?” Anakin asked.

         You nodded in response.

         “Sad it’s not real?”

         You nodded again.

         “Oh, poor baby. Don’t you remember me saying that I’d see you later?”

         You were still.

         “You’ll wake up in a minute. And I’ll be outside your door. Then you’ll let me in your room, and we’ll talk, and laugh, and I’ll flirt with you all night long. You understand?”

         “Yes.”

          You sat up like you were electrocuted. You rubbed your face with your hands. Maker, what a mean dream to have. It was like the universe was teasing you, giving you a taste of heaven just to take it away. And then it wanted you to believe there was a chance it could be real. There was no way.

         But it never hurts to check.

         You felt like a loser standing up; surely some life force out there was laughing at your naivety. Shame filled you as you made your way towards your door. It was overflowing when you put your ear to the door and heard nothing. But for one last hurrah, you pressed the button on the wall that would open the door.

         You were met with Anakin.

[simpjaes]

mtl to try his luck and fuck a married woman just cuz he can

MTL: hyung line + fuck a married woman

warning: infidelity obv

most

★ jay: im on that milf hunter jay agenda forever so you can't argue that he's the first one to be willing to fuck a married woman. I think he'd probably even prefer it sometimes, loving the idea that someone is willing to skew their own moral compass just to get him between their legs. the idea drives him up a fucking wall to be someone's dirty little secret, both in a good and bad way. the pros: quick and nasty fucks, hot desperate words whispered directly into each other's mouths, false promises and perfect situations that call for degradation. A total fucking ego boost for him. especially when he's moaned for and stated as the better fuck compared to the man you're married to. the cons though? well, he doesn't necessarily like sharing you, even if you were never his to share to begin with. hate fucks are fun but goddamn does he hate seeing you rubbing all over the man who never could or would eat the pussy right.

☆ heeseung: what heeseung wants, heeseung gets. he doesn't care if he looks stupid chasing a married woman, if anything, that's not even a cause to stop wanting in his head. who cares? he doesn't have to find out, genuinely, all you need to do is admit that you want him too. he can see it on your face every time he whispers dirty little words in passing to you. definitely the type to send unsolicited dick pics to your number after basically manipulating you to get it in the first place. honestly, heeseung would pester and fluster you until you'd have no choice but to break for him. to the point that you're chasing him. to the point that you can't stop thinking about him. your vows be damned, it would be a damn shame to keep pretending you don't want it. and oh god, would heeseung give it to you too. honestly, he'd play with your body to the point you'd forget you even got married in the first place. and fuckkkk, he would be elated to know he's got a married woman at his beck and call.

★ sunghoon: it would probably be an accidental thing on his part ngl. not saying he wouldn't go for a married woman but i think he'd be more inclined to chase a single person. that is, until he is forced into close quarters with you on a day to day basis. maybe you guys work together or something idk. sunghoon is the type who wants a relationship, and boy would it sting when he finds out you're already married. "but you don't wear a ring..." he'd probably comment, not really intending to sound rude but fr, he wouldn't have just tried to kiss you if you had been wearing said ring. and, well, it would probably spiral from there with both of you facing a moral dilemma. sunghoon would take what he could get after too long though, after all, he'd probably fall so aggressively in love with you to the point of becoming jealous and possessive. 100% would fuck you for the first time and ask you to divorce your husband while balls deep lmaooo

☆ jake: not intentionally, but it's not like you were honest with him about it. i think you'd be the aggressor in the situation when it comes to jake. the guy would do anything for you, and anything to get those loving compliments and bats of your eyelashes at him. the best part?? when he finds out he probably wouldn't give two shits about it because he's obsessed with you whether another man feels the same about you or not. it's def a "well someone's gotta change their outfit" moment for him, except more of a "well someone's gonna have to give you up" but it most certainly won't be him lmfaoooo. bro would slash your husband's tires.

least

p.s. im giggling bc this is 666 words aye

[the-s1lly-corner]

i saw in the recent lambert post you made that they like to be spoiled and that got me thinking of a follower or even a spouse taking the day to pamper them, saying how good of a person they are and how amazing they are as a leader while helping them shear their wool or washing it and how despite the things they've done the mc will always just wash the blood off their fleece and care for them regardless!!!!

Pampering Lambert for a day

worrying over my progress on the flufftober fics- i know i still have 2 months until october but ive only got 16/31 of the fics done... and im dragging my feet... grrr... maybe ill try to finish another fic before i go to bed tonight- not to mention theres still 5 empty slots that still need a character assigned to them hisshiss notes: reader is gn and a cult member, short post, admin has adopted the "lambert is a kinder leader at least compared to the bishops- they just want to help their cult thrive and survive", admins thoughts are scattered everywhere so this post kind of bounces around everywhere cws: canon typical violence

honestly? sometimes having so many people depending on you weighs heavy on their mind- adding the fact that they are more than aware that they are the last of their kind... and it gets even worse when the bishops join the cult

so a day being tended to and loved is in order- you step up to deal with everyones needs and make sure no one is immediately dying or need anything- and if anyone dares try to bother you and your lover... the look you give them is enough to make them hesitate

you both hang out in his quarters, or for fresh air you both wander around in the woods... or maybe go fishing together... you make it clear that the choice is up to lambert

so tired they just want to stay in bed, so you both end up cuddling together

run your fingers through their wool and their exhausted body is going to melt right into you... their ears flick every now and then as you work your fingers into their body

might take you down to ratau's shack to play a few games of knucklebones before coming back home, you play until its dark out

they dont like talking about some of the darker sides of being a cult leader- the sacrifices, the death, and the weight that was placed on them to be a vessel... now turned a god

they never really chose this, and they let you know that thats been weighing on them

there isnt much that can be done to change whats been done so all you can do is listen and be there for them

godhood has made their body more resilient to wounds as well as healing faster than a mortal, but you still clean their wounds when they return from a crusade... youre so so careful as you scrub their wool until the red is out... they dont remember the last time someone has taken the time to wrap their wounds... theyre left in silence as you lean down and gently press a kiss to their bandages

[ddejavvu]

Han solo's hands that are much bigger than readers. They look so massive when compared to readers smaller frame.

Imagine them on reader's thighs,waist even face as he holds it with one or both hands ! Maybe those hands go somehere else ifykwim 😏

Im in love with him, help.

i was just talking about han holding reader by the back of the neck with indy earlier. some good shit.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

han has disgustingly massive hands. no, really, they're obscenely large. and you know what they say about big hands <333

i think before you're even hooking up, or maybe after you've started fucking but you're not right at the moment, he'll still use them to boss you around. he pushes against your shoulder if you're in his way instead of just slipping past you or saying excuse me. he'll pinch your ass if you walk by him. he'll snatch stuff out of your hands, just take it right away from you purely to piss you off. it happens especially with stuff you're trying to move out of the crap pile that i know his quarters are in the falcon. i know there's weird shit laying all over the place, and god forbid you try to pick some of it up and put it elsewhere so that you have a spot to sit down, 'cause he'll yank it out of your hands and go 'gimme that. keep your hands to yourself.'

i think when you're riding his dick he'll shove them in your mouth. you're bouncing on his cock, desperately trying to fuck yourself hard enough on him to satisfy him, but the thing is you're tired and it would be soooo much easier if he just helped you by putting those massive hands of his on your hips and bouncing you himself. but he doesn't, because he wants to watch you come undone trying to please him :]

he'll watch you abuse your achy, soaking wet, drooling pussy on his cock and he'll put one of his massive hands on your face. he sticks his pointer and middle finger in your mouth, and uses the rest to anchor himself on your cheekbones. he's clutching tight to your face and you're letting him jam his fingers down your throat, feeling their rough pads prod at the back of your throat enough to have you gagging and choking on them. you're a mess, your eyes are red-rimmed and wet with tears, you're desperately trying to swallow his fingers, your tongue is going wild trying to cover every inch of his skin with spit, and your poor puffy pussy is all open and wet and hot all over his cock. he likes it when you're a mess, especially when you make yourself a mess for him.

the sounds of your choking make his dick twitch inside of you. he might even press his fingers down on your tongue to flood your mouth with drool because he's cruel, and he wants to watch your eyes roll back into your head as you try to control the itchy feeling in your throat of needing to gag. he's such a shit-talker, he'll hit you with that gruff, condescending voice of his, 'stupid little thing, ain't'cha? trying to swallow my whole fuckin' hand?'

he's gonna torture you until the obscene mixture of slick and cum and sweat and sex is sliding down not only your legs but his own pelvis, and then he's gonna jam it back inside of you with those huge hands of his. he'll use them to manhandle you onto the mattress, pin your shoulder to the sheets, and drag his long, thick fingers across your skin, scooping the slick up and stuffing it back inside of your leaking hole. you're absolutely soaked in the stuff, both of you, so it'll never work the way he wants it to, but he's going to stuff you with as much as you can take, and then he's gonna stick his fingers back in your face so that you can clean them off for him.

i also just think he'd stick his fingers in your mouth for his own pleasure. you're reading something, or you're focused on a project you're working on, and all of a sudden han's pinching the hollows of your cheeks together so that your mouth opens, and one of his rough fingers is bullying its way into your mouth. He pins your head against his stomach if he's doing it from behind you, and you're just held in this headlock while he sticks a finger down your throat.

'c'mon, suck it off, sweetheart.' he orders you, completely unphased by your disgruntled dismay at being oh-so-rudely interrupted from whatever task you were focusing on before, 'stop squirming, you're so fuckin' dramatic.'

i like the idea of him having his hands all over you all the time. i think he squeezes you by the back of the neck like i mentioned earlier. he's the type of guy to pinch and rub your shoulders all of a sudden in a 'massage' that really feels like your muscles are being ripped apart. he's hands-on and you're gonna have to get used to it.

he hauls you around by the bicep, too. he grabs you like a dude and yanks you wherever he wants. pinches tight enough for it to hurt, maybe just enough for it to bruise if he's feeling like it. he can be gentle with you, of course, but he's rough by nature and i think he'd manhandle you more often than not with those monster fucking hands he's got.

[redrum-alice]

So I've been sketching Beauty and the Beast AU for ABAcelsus, and I just wanna lay out some HCs lmao...

First and foremost, the AU has its own twist and is loosely based on the fanfic "A possession of another name" on ao3. I kinda just wanna do some scenarios bc im doing some scene sketches for funsies. This is set in 1600s

P.S., some of the HCs are cheezy as hell, because Im cooking for myself (this whole AU is my own food lol)

TW: some headcanons may contain mature topics

ABA was the daughter of the town's doctor, Dr. Hohenheim (please bear with me). He was the one who makes successful medicine and healing potions for the sick and poor.

Because of his aptitute in medical field and science, the ignorance of townsfolk saw this as a threat of witchcraft and alchemy, accusing him to be worshipping the devil (may or may not be true, but he insists he was doing it for good)

Although he was met with criticism, Dr. Hohenheim wanted nothing more than to improve lives, until he met his untimely demise.

Leaving his daughter all alone and ostricized due to their family's reputation, ABA was taken in as a scullery maid in a mansion. She was left with a key that she turned into a necklace and a book of incantation in case she was in a dire situation. She held these two objects dearly

Just like her father, she was somehow skilled and knowledgable about medicine and healing, especially when it comes to blood. This unfortunately sparked outrage once the other maids outed her for her suspicious activities. They intend to burn her alive.

She quickly fled to the woods to escape the mob. When it was clear, she took out the incantation book to recite a protection spell. Turns out she summoned a demon named Paracelsus.

Paracelsus ignited flames in the outskirts of town in response to the young woman's call for help. The townsfolk quickly fled away and left the girl alone with the demon. Sadly, ABA fell unconscious due to the injuries her masters and other maids have inflicted on her. The demon eventually took her inside the pocket dimension to heal properly.

Paracelsus is a bloodthirsty demon that was captured by Dr. Hohemheim and a man named Slayer long ago before ABA was born, fearing the dangers he might inflict on people if he was loose. They kept a chain and lock around his neck, magically bound to the book and can only be free with the use of the key ABA is currently wearing.

Dr. Hohenheim gained his knowledge in medicine with Paracelsus' help, since the demon possessed knowledge one could not achieve yet in their era. This was all in exchange of blood, and Dr. Hohenheim was tricked into killing some of the people he was helping. Not wanting to be manipulated furthet, Dr. Hohenheim sealed him away. The doctor soon wrote a letter to his young daughter revealing the truth one day when she grows up, tucked inside the book

After ABA read her father's letter, she was devastated. With no one else to turn to, she became dependent on the only being who shown her kindness: Paracelsus.

Paracelsus wanted nothing more than to feed on ABA's blood, ignoring her plea to be his companion. Over time, he pitied the girl and slowly soften up. Even going as far as offering a pocket dimension to be her resting quarters if she got tired of traveling in search of a new place to live.

ABA notices how fond Paracelsus was with roses, just as much as she is with blue flowers. Paracelsus explains it was because they're close to the red shade of blood.

In some gruesome yet magical manner, Paracelsus performed a magic where he turns ABA's blood droplets into roses to amuse her. (Weird but romantic ig?)

Because of that, she scanned the book of incantation and finds a spell to turn her blood droplets into roses so she can surprise Paracelsus. The demon wont admit it, but was a very thoughtful gesture. He had to patch up ABA though

ABA has always been insecure about herself, after having been emotionally and mentally abused by her owners at the mansion. She never felt beautiful in her skin and cannot look at herself in the mirror. So in a twisted way, she sees Paracelsus' "attraction" to her blood as some sort of affection.

In a symbiotic sense, ABA found company in Paracelsus, while the demon feeds off on her blood as fuel to protect them both. He had to keep a close eye on the girl, for she holds to key to his freedom. He cannot use the key for himself because it was blessed and it'll burn him if he touches it.

Paracelsus doesn't want to admit that he finds ABA's meekness endearing. Whenever she wanted ask about something she didn't know (she grew up in a small town that has nothing to offer, and her master wouldn't let her out of the mansion), Paracelsus was glad to fill her with knowledge.

He finds ABA's curiosity to be charming as well, but it comes with him protecting her from impending danger. The girl was reckless at times.

Soon he found himself enchanted at the girl's pure hearted nature. He fears that his influence may corrupt her one day and tries his best to shield her from his bloodthirsty intentions.

ABA naively asked Paracelsus if they could marry. He flatly said no, but she kept trying lol

[iridescent-solstice]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐀 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 🌸 | ᴘᴛ. ꜰᴏᴜʀ: ᴘᴏʀᴛɪᴀ | ⤷ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇᴄᴛɪᴄ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴇʀɪꜱʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ . . .

Prompt from @vesuviaweekly used: How to cry!!

"Take it off, Portia i'm done." The steel cold tone with which you speak makes her eyes widen like saucers. Your arms crossed over each other as you seethe. Silently, Portia gawks at you, mouth slightly agape as the door to the servants' quarter quietly shuts behind her. Hands finally free after hours of carrying things around and unlocking doors. Her eyes wander around trying to understand but fails to comprehend why you seem so upset. "Huh? What do you mean? Take what off?" A glimpse of humour appears in her eyes. Glints at you like a shining light before her hands fall to the hem of her shirt, "my oh my ~ Is that what you intend? I thought I was the only on-"

"No not that. Take your mask off." She's stunned once more. Hands leaving to fall to her side.

"What?! . . . What do you mean? I'm not wearing my masquerade mask right now, I really don't understand . . ." She sighs deeply and rubs her face in her hands. A sorrowful expression on her face. "Im sorry, I might be more tired that I realised but I don't know what you're talking about." A frown appears on her face as she looks away from you, eyes slightly misty. Feeling guilty since she hasn't spent much time with you. The masquerade ball already having so much anticipation around it. Despite it being a week away, the anxiety to make it perfect is lingering in the air. A heavy burden on every servant, and you know that. You sigh and shake your head at her.

"No no, you're fine, I should stop being so vague." Your feet move towards her on their own accord, no push necessary as you go to hold her hands. Pulling her close into your embrace. She, in turn, doesn't hesitate to bury her face into your shoulder. Her arms around your waist already. "What I meant, is that I want you to be yourself . . ."

Your voice coming out as a mere shy whisper. The day's frustration melting away already from both of you as you rub her back. Holding on to her like she's your lifeline, you hug her tighter. "What I meant to say was just that . . . I don't want you pretend to be someone you're not. To hide things from me. To do everything by yourself. Please . . . Take your mask off. Stop hiding from me and just tell me what's wrong." You plead to her but neither of you has it in themselves to pull away from the embrace.

Nor the strength to glance each other in the eye. You can tell she's shocked by how quiet she is. Portia, believe it or not, despite having so many acquaintances all over Versuvia . . . Has never had anyone be so enamoured with her as to want to get to know her. She's always second to someone, Never the one, always the spare. Yet with you . . . That's never the case is it? She's touched, she really is, and you can tell when she speaks. "I . . . Thank you, I'll try to do that," Her wobbly agreement is all she says before the dam breaks and you get to comfort her as she finally begins to speak her mind to you.

[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @magicalboything] ⤷ Recoloured so it stands out on the blog and fits the character. If you're not comfy with that PLS do let me know and I'll change it!

And with this entry . . . the 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐀 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 🌸 is complete!! It was a lot of fun to try and imagine different scenarios for each character so I might do something like this again sometime soon. Thank you for reading and following along. I hope you enjoyed all of the oneshots I posted. I feel like I could have done better for some characters but yknow what?

I shouldn't keep mulling over stuff for too long or I'll never post haha. I will try to do better next time!

{ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ. ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ 16 ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴏʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴅɴɪ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ}

[generalkenobee]

kylo ren smut pls ??? possessive one potentially, secret relationship vibes

Ok but thisss>>>

Innocent

❤️Warnings: smut, p in v, dirty talk, switch Kylo, I don't really know but let me know if I missed anything

❤️Summary: Kylo's trying his best to control himself because he knows that no one can know

❤️A/N: I really appreciate all of the requests, like seriously I know I don't always get them out the fastest but I love you guys

"thank you so much, I really appreciate it" you said smiling at Hux

"it's really no problem anything for my favorite lieutenant.." his hair was so red that it matched his hair..

Kylo watched from across the room, his blood boiling. Not because you did anything wrong but because no one could know, you had every right to speak to the general like a normal person. However, Hux didn't know that you were Kylo's, so he didn't know when to back off.

"lieutenant (L/N), I need you for the- the tie fighters maintenance" he quickly made up an excuse to get you away from the freckled face red head.

"do you really need help with the fighte-" he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You pushed him back "Kylo!" You whisper yelled, there are at least 12 stormtrooper in this room! You can't just-" He cut you off for a second time by grabbing your wrist and moving in to whisper in your ear

"I need you. Now"

Your pulse quickening, you looked up at him innocently biting your lip. "Then why don't we go up to your quarters and you can have me.." you whispered back with your hands on his chest still looking up at him, you knew that was something he liked. Kylo loved when you looked at him while you talked like that. He loved when you had an innocent look on your face while his cock was in your mouth, or when you smiled at him while he rammed into you, that was the same smile you gave him while Hux was around. Kylo knew that smile very well, that smile indicated you knew what you wanted and how you wanted it.

-

Kylo's hips weren't stopping, maker you didn't know how he wasn't tired yet. He had to have plenty of scratches going down his back, which was exceptionally arousing because every time you did you could feel his back muscles flexing and a light moan escape his mouth. Not the kind of sound the mighty Kylo Ren would make in front of anyone but you..but you were so special to him the first person he felt he could be himself around.

His larger strong hands were on either side of your head while his plump lips kissed at your cheek, neck, ears, lips, any wear he could get to. "You like leaving those marks down my back? You like marking me up ?" You nodded your head vigorously in response "well go on then, you know I'm yours" you loved when he got like this, submissive but he could still take whatever he wanted..

"I wish they knew" Kylo's thrusts paused "I wish everyone knew" his hips snapped back "just how good I make you feel" his thrusts matched his words making you clench and quiver around him.

"Kylo it feels so good.. your cock was made for me"

He smirked "yeah it was" he responded kissing you "it's your cock, I belong to you and you belong to me" his words caused your stomach to tighten and your scalp to get tingly "use my body to please yourself, I was made to please you"

"I-Im gonna.." you squeezed your eyes shut and wrapped your arms around his neck pushing your chest up to meet his, holding his as close as possible while you let your orgasm crash over you making your whole body shiver and twitch. Just as you did you felt his warm seed fill you up. Kylo wrapped his arms around you and fell down on top of you "please let me stay in for a while.."

Thank you for the request 💕💕