#it really is just all about his strength of will!

[comatosebunny09]

serve & protect | sylus

— summary: you’ve stood dutifully by his side for years. seen him at his worst, not once letting that side of him deter you. can you blame him for craving more than your loyalty? — cw: royalty au, king sylus, femme reader, knight/bodyguard reader, mutual pining, marking, restraints, sexual tension, slow burn, sylus isn’t a normal king, this isn’t a medieval setting, there are cars and indoor plumbing ‘round here, reader has hair for the sake of plot — notes: a reimagining of something i wrote a few years ago. heavily inspired by final fantasy xv & the beast within (2024). tysm for reading! — now playing: tender strength - yu-peng chan, hoyo-mix

Willing His Majesty to behave and him actually doing so are two foreign points on a map. 

It’s kind of your fault, really. 

You almost don’t. Nearly preserve your aloofness, your decorum. But then you do let your formalities slip for the briefest second, and that’s what heralds this mess. 

A traitorous sigh slips past your lips, summoning the attention of your wintry-haired charge.

Warmth pours throughout your person, a prickly spike of embarrassment clotting your veins. You stiffen, staring at the dark, heavy curtains shielding the dining hall from the sun’s brilliant spill. Try to ignore how your skin tingles beneath the curious study of your king. How those scarlet eyes crinkle mirthfully, wittingly, and you know all too well no good will come from that look. 

He’s in a playful mood, isn’t he? And you’re about to serve as his court jester. 

“Are you alright, dear friend?” he intones, loud enough for only you to hear, ignoring the monotonous prattle of his guest across the table. 

His voice curls around your brain, seeping through the folds of it. You straighten, arms stiffly folded behind you, quietly clearing your throat to ward off the spell of dizziness threatening to take hold. Curse him for sounding so devastatingly hot. For being so terribly distracting, so unfairly handsome.

You murmur an apology, not once taking your eyes off the far wall to look at him. To do so would be dangerous. Get you into more trouble. You hope by ignoring him, he’ll leave you be, but—

Well, His Majesty is a stubborn man, and once he gets going, there’s no stopping him.

He fiddles with a fork on the dining table with long, skillful fingers. Smooths out the little wrinkles forming in the tablecloth, adjusting himself in his wing-backed seat into an uninterested slouch. “You’ve been awfully huffy today. Are you bored?” 

A little, you inwardly reply. You don’t care much for politics. For these fickle conversations of wealth, alliances, and nobility. You merely follow orders, keeping your opinions to yourself unless they’re explicitly requested. 

Being a knight proves to be much more entertaining than serving as a tactician or advisor. At least you can keep your hands and feet busy instead of rotting away at a desk, ripping out your hair and fretting over the intricacies of running an entire nation. 

You remain quiet, tuning out His Majesty’s attempts to get you to break character. 

But, as mentioned before, your king is a persistent man. 

He sighs, slipping further down in his chair. Props his temple on his knuckles, an ankle resting on the pocket of his knee whilst the free set of fingers drum on the chair’s arm. “I don’t blame you if you are. She’s not very entertaining, is she? Nor is she very bright.”

You snort despite yourself. Quickly remember your decorum, a scowl twisting up your lips. Your eyes shoot to your wayward king. “Majesty!” you admonish on a whispered yell.

A smirk pulls at his lips. He playfully narrows his eyes at you from behind the shelter of his hand. Has you right where he wants you, feeding into his childish games. Just like old times. 

Your staring contest, however, is short-lived when the sharp click of a teacup meeting its saucer echoes through the stilled dining hall.

“I’m sorry,” quips a voice doused in vitriol from the table’s other end, causing your attention to snap to its source. “Am I interrupting something?”

The Queen of Universum ingests the pair of you with sharp, mead-infused eyes, vexation tugging at her red-painted lips. Like two scolded children, you straighten, King Sylus sitting up in his seat with a brilliantly fake smile.

“Of course not. Please, continue with your monologuing,” he says with a theatrical flourish of his fingers. He would roll his eyes if he could; you just know it.

You disguise a laugh as a cough, piping up when the queen’s glare snaps to you. You try not to bristle beneath the weight she carries. Beneath the thin stretch of her lips. She doesn’t like you very much. Of course, you don’t care for her, either. 

She’s made it perfectly clear that she views you as a threat to her plans—marrying her daughter off to your king to forge an alliance between your countries, to spread her family’s reign. No room for love. She’s mentioned more than once that your familiarity with the king is inappropriate, a threat to his crown. How scandalous it would be for him to take you as his bride instead of someone with noble blood.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fingers curling into a fist at your back until your nails bite unforgivingly into your palm. 

Like you don’t already grapple with the notion every time he touches you or smiles a little too charmingly in your direction.

You’re not fit to be a contender for his heart; not fit to be a queen. 

Her eyes finally slip away from you, refocusing on the center of your musings. Your relief is short-lived as an impish smile rounds her lips. You swallow thickly, the queen’s body language boding danger.

“Is it truly necessary for your lapdog to be here? Her presence is spoiling my meal.”

You blink rapidly. Incredulously, mouth spilling open.

Lap—

Lapdog?

I’m sorry, what?

If you had hackles, they would raise. Instead, your nostrils flare, the tendons in your neck pulling, jaw set in a rigid line. An omniscient smirk cants the queen’s lips. She knows just how to creep beneath your skin, how to wrap her claws around your pride and pull it apart. 

How dare she compare you to a bloody dog! You’re loyal, yes. At His Majesty’s beck and call. His shield. Have been for years. But to be compared to an animal, of all things—

He feels the malice sloughing off your skin in waves. Eyes you warily in his peripheral before raising a hand to quell your silent rage.

“Down, girl,” he teases, and you glower at him. 

It seems he also wants to play along with these dog jokes.

Leaning forward, your king perches his elbows on the dining table. Twines his fingers together, resting his chin atop his knuckles, a deceptively sweet smile boasting his teeth. Having known him for as long as you have, you can easily sense the irritation pouring over the tense set of his muscles. The stiffness between his shoulder blades, peering through the tailored pleat of his jacket.

“My Lady,” he begins, words bathed in silk. “I’m not sure how you treat your subjects in Universum, and frankly, I do not care. But here, we address our people with dignity and respect regardless of race, color, status, or creed.”

The queen’s expression morphs into one of mortification. She straightens in her seat, a steady creep of redness inhabiting her cheeks as she studies the doily texture of the tablecloth. You resist an urge to cheer.

“While you are my guest, you are expected to behave with poise and grace. And I would greatly appreciate it if you did not disrespect my friend here like that again.” 

Scarlet eyes briefly flit to you, shining with a spark of fondness—a tenderness that sets your body alight with heat—before returning to the queen. 

“Or anyone in my kingdom, for that matter. Understood?” His Majesty concludes with a raised brow, sparing no room for argument.

Pride swells in your chest, warm like the soft embrace of a fur shawl on a wintry day. He’s shut her up in his own way. Read her to filth with the poise and regality of a man of his stature, and you’re envious of his composure. They don’t call him a king for nothing. 

You straighten at his side, mouth twitching with the threat of an arrogant smile, and your chin lifts slightly. Defiantly. 

She studies her lap, pulling at her fingernails. You watch a kaleidoscope of emotions stroll across her face before a nervous titter falls from her lips. 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. That was very inappropriate of me.” Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips while she sweeps a chocolate ringlet of hair behind her ear. “I was only hoping that the two of us could have a little…chat.” She looks at you, a note of caution stirring beneath her lashes. “Alone.”

Sylus sits back with a scoff as if he’s just as confused by her request as you are. It’s rare you leave his side. Rare you’re not in his shadow, head on a swivel, fingers wrapped about your sword. You’re even present when he’s sunk beneath the murky pull of sleep. 

“Does her being here pose some sort of threat to you?” he interrogates around a smirk.

“Not so much a threat as it is a distraction.”

A distraction to whom, you wonder. It’s a ridiculous request. You’re his bodyguard, for the Gods’ sake. You wouldn’t put it past her to make an attempt on his life in your absence. Forgo the pleasantries and proposal for marriage and end his lineage here and now. Not that she could.

Your mouth works around a protest, yet it dies in your throat when your king calls your name after some time spent deliberating. He peers at you from his shoulder, and you snap to attention.

“Sorry, dear friend,” he says, tone sloping with repentance. “Would you mind giving us some space for a little while? I fear your presence is making our guest uncomfortable.”

You cast him a pensive look. Lips tremble and part. His expression softens, and he winks at you, turning up the dial of his charm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Of course, he will. His Majesty is more than capable of handling himself. Sometimes, you wonder what purpose you serve. He’s a hulk of a man, brimming with untapped power and bleeding intimidation. Most days, you feel you’re by his side to create the illusion of protection. 

Remembering your place, you step back and excuse yourself with a curt bow. You caution one last look at your charge before pivoting, briskly making for the door, ignoring the thunderous drum of your pulse in your ears.

You feel his eyes track your every move as your boots click soundly against the glittering, marbled floor. Feel the queen’s gaze drilling into your back, exuding a quieted smugness as if she’s won your silent war of wills. 

As the solid, ornate doors of the dining hall draw closed behind you, you catch wind of their conversation over your shoulder, and your heart plummets to your feet. 

“So,” begins the queen, voice steeping low. “I hear you are in need of a bride.”

—

You’re a mess of grit teeth and unease on the doors’ other side.

You’ve paced back and forth for what feels like an eternity, warring with your emotions. You’re not sure what has you more on edge: having been made to look like a fool in front of your king, or the implications of that statement when you departed from the dining room. 

“I hear you are in need of a bride.”

The conversation was inevitable. Doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

It’s the entire reason Universum’s queen has frequented your kingdom so much. Trying to set him up with her daughter, the princess, under the guise of uniting your people. You both know she’s greedy for power following her husband’s untimely demise, and His Majesty is teeming with it. 

You scoff, stopping your march to lean against the double doors, arms crossed over your chest. With a shuddering breath out, your face turned skyward, and your eyes shuttered closed, you try to compose yourself. 

If you keep huffing and puffing about like this, you might convince yourself that you care for your king more than you should. More than you’re allowed to. 

When you’ve begun to settle your nerves, the chorus of boots striking the carpeted floor piques your interest. 

You open an eye as dark figures of varying heights and sizes ease into frame, moving past you, carrying laughter and camaraderie with them. Crownsguardsmen. 

They regard you with quick bows and wary smiles, their banter lulling to a dull murmur in the face of their superior. You acknowledge them casually, still propped against the oakwood doors, not at all in the mood for formalities. 

Amid the gaggle of guards, a set of curious sienna eyes alight on you, widening with recognition before crinkling with glee. 

The smaller guard shoves through her comrades, briskly approaching you as her teammates walk out of sight. You study the top of her sleek, brown hair before she stops before you. And you stiffen, stammering as she snatches up your hands, her excitement palpable. 

Tara. You recognize her as a new recruit with youthful eyes and enough enthusiasm to power the entire Citadel. 

She reminded you of yourself when you first joined the king’s army. A young woman with a target on her back because of her gender and status. She possessed exceptional prowess with an array of weapons and vast knowledge of the kingdom’s technology. Yet, she was constantly beleaguered by her comrades and, oftentimes, her trainers.

You threw around your brass a little, ensuring she was treated as fairly as her male counterparts whilst she trained as a knight. Sometimes sparred or studied with her on your rare occasions of downtime. You were there to congratulate her when she’d been appointed a member of His Majesty’s royal guard.

With King Sylus on the throne, the Crownsguard became more progressive, opening its doors to anyone willing to lay their life down for him. Too bad a bunch of egotistical, chauvinistic airheads still occupied his ranks. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” Tara sing-songs, overflowing with zeal. 

You wince at the pitch of her voice, the brilliance of her smile. But you find her infectious, a soft chuckle ducking through your lips. You unwind one of your hands from her grasp, ruffling her hair affectionately. Had she been anyone else, you would’ve reprimanded her for forgoing the proper customs and courtesies. 

But are you really in any position to lecture anyone about etiquette right now?

“Good afternoon, Tara.” You’re surprised by the mildness of your voice. The fondness of it.

If she had a tail, it would surely be wagging. Your innards color with warmth at the thought. You’ve found someone else you want to protect almost as much as your king.

“How are you today, ma’am?” she asks, dispelling the nebula of your thoughts. 

Averting your gaze, you sigh, recalling what’s got you so out of sorts in the first place. You cross your arms, your spine reacquainting itself with the intricate carvings of one of the dining room’s doors with a muted thunk. “I’ve had better days.”

Tara’s expression pulls into one of curiosity. “Something the matter?” 

She steps closer, bursting your figurative bubble. With her hands clasped behind her back, Tara scrutinizes you, ducking this way and that, giving you a visual inspection. 

“Come to think of it, isn’t His Majesty having brunch with the Queen of Universum right now?” She pensively taps her lip with her index finger, eyes narrowing in thought. “Behind you?”

You flinch, watching her from down your nose. She’s eerily perceptive for someone so young. Invasive, pummeling you with a hundred questions a minute. 

“That’s strange. Aren’t you normally by his side? Did something happen? Did you get into trouble?” Tara goads, nudging you with her elbow.

You scoff, pushing off the door. For all the years you’ve known your king, you’ve never been in trouble with him. Garnered the ire of his advisor once or twice, sure. Pissed off his royal entourage with your sharp tongue, maybe. But you don’t think Sylus harbors a malicious bone in his body for you. You don’t think he ever could.

You cross the hall, perching your hands on an adjacent windowsill. The marble texture is cold beneath your palms. Grounding. You study the mixture of historical and modern architecture lining the horizon, a scene reminiscent of a dragon’s maw. 

The land of Insomnia brims with life beyond The Citadel’s walls, a nation once war-torn slowly rebuilding itself under the guidance of your genial king.

“No, I’m not in trouble.” You turn, sitting on the ledge. Your voice descends as if you’re having a conversation with yourself. “But not everyone seems to like the idea of me at the king’s side.”

Tara moves towards you with a placating smile, taking up one of your hands and squeezing it. “The queen doesn’t like you very much, does she?” 

Your silence serves as her answer. 

The smaller woman pats your hand, thumb smoothing over the rough patch of skin stretched over the clutch of it. “Well, I could’ve told you that.”

You cut your eyes at her in warning. What’s with everyone testing your patience today? Picking on you?

“You’re competition,” Tara matter of factly adds, maneuvering to lean against the windowsill beside you. 

You study the weathered tips of your boots before your gaze slowly rises to Tara. Her eyes gloss over with tenderness. With pity as a slow creep of heat inhabits the pit of your stomach. You avert your gaze, boring into the dining hall’s doors. 

You don’t have to ask what she means by that; you’ve heard the statement numerous times as of late. Your king’s recent treatment of you doesn’t help matters, exacerbating the rumor that you’re more than just his loyal subject.

As if sensing your internal plight, Tara decides to shift gears. You’re grateful for the reprieve, getting too hung up in your mind again. 

“So, do you really think the queen killed her husband?” she whispers, leaning in with a hand cupped around her mouth.

You chuckle. Leave it to Tara to fill the space with gossip. “I couldn’t say. But I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a bit of a bi—”

As if on cue, the grandiose doors of the dining room groan open, spilling the artificial light inside onto the carpeted floor. You and Tara snap to attention like two youths caught dawdling, stone-faced, the remnants of your conversation corked in your throats. 

How anticlimactic, you muse, watching several figures emerge from the room until your eyes alight on a familiar, riotous mop of white. 

Your breath thickens in your throat as scarlet eyes capture yours. The lips beneath them quirk before the towering silhouette they belong to, strides past you.

Tara’s hand brushes yours. You don’t have to look to know she’s giving you the most impish side-eye. 

The queen turns on her heel to face your king, her entourage scuttling about behind her. She’s half-hidden by the mass that is His Majesty, but beyond his bulk, you make out her red lips curving into a deceitful smile. Bile singes the back of your throat, your fists tightening at your sides. 

“It’s been a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She punctuates her words with a small curtsy and head tilt. 

His Majesty stuffs his hand in his pocket, his wispy hair sweeping over broad shoulders. Boredom lances through his deep timbre, and you imagine his eyes rolling with disinterest. “The pleasure was hardly mine.”

An indignant sound salts the air, dredged from the queen’s throat. You bite back a laugh, recalling what got you sent out in the first place. Tara flinches in your peripheral, tamping down a laugh herself. 

Ignoring your king’s waywardness, the queen squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, her head held high. She clears her throat, holding out her hand for your liege to take. When he does nothing, she waggles it expectantly, wordlessly demanding he kiss it.

You watch the scene unfold with bated breath, tight lips. Inwardly cheer when Sylus scoffs, turning away from his obstinate guest. He waves a tired hand over his shoulder, summoning two guards stationed by the hallway’s entrance.

“Please ensure the queen makes it back to her car. Safely or harmed, I don’t care,” he tacks on under his breath.

The guards acknowledge him with nods and move to flank the queen and her royal retinue. The woman huffs, indignantly stomping her foot like a child deprived of their favorite snack. She grabs the tail of her dress and brusquely spins before being led out, carrying her jilted air with her. 

You resist a smile. Pride spools heavy in your chest. It’s almost like your souls are linked; your king’s never cared for rude nobles and their politics, mirroring your sentiment. 

He conquers the space between you in three measured strides. Pilfers the air from your lungs as electricity and pheromones spark between you, and you’re drawn into the ruinous stir of his eyes. 

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Tara dismisses herself with a bow, but not before discreetly nudging you in her retreat. Sylus barely acknowledges her, busy memorizing every detail of your face. Every tight breath slipping through your parted lips, every feathery flutter of your lashes.

You rapidly blink as if remembering where you are, keenly aware that the pair of you are alone. 

The king’s proximity throws you off-kilter. The earthy scent and comforting warmth he exudes permeate the thickened layers of your uniform, wrapping around your heart, squeezing, leaving you raw and exposed. Your jaw ticks.

His expression slackens, brows knitting in the inner corners, and he coyly cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright, dear friend?” The texture of his voice is gritty as sandpaper, yet it’s disarming in a way that leaves you weak-kneed with a heavy tongue.

“H-huh?” comes your foolish reply. You would kick yourself for how lovestruck you sound. 

Your king chuckles, a genuine sound reserved for hushed moments like these, tucked away from the prying eyes of his court. Your lips twitch before a slender finger pokes the space between your eyes, dispelling the dreamlike fog that once loomed overhead.

“I asked,” poke, “if you,” poke, “are feeling,” poke, “alright? You look a bit flustered.”

You swat his hand like an enraged feline, to which he chuckles, all manner of refinement thrown to the wolves. He’s as bratty as ever, a reflection of that child you once knew who’d shove you off the hill to be king of it. Who knew he’d grow to take an entire kingdom onto his shoulders?

You clear the phlegm from your throat, taking a step back, haughtiness meddling with your features as his hand falls listlessly at his side.

“I’m fine, Majesty. Though I’d be better if someone learned to keep his hands to himself.”

The monarch in question feigns innocence, blinking owlishly, a dramatic hand splayed over his heart. “What? I thought you liked it when I badgered you like this. When I kept you on your toes.”

You scowl, crossing your arms and impatiently tapping your foot. “Not when it borders sexual harassment. Need I remind you of your briefings, sir? Should we revisit them?”

He sputters, mortification descending on his face. You bite back a snicker. He’s much too handsome like this—playful, boyish, unguarded. An affectionate smile crests over his mouth when you let a bewitchingly sweet laugh slip. He takes a step forward, swaddling you in prickly static, dwarfing you by a good foot. Your traitorous heart thumps something wild, threatening to leap from your chest as the mirth melts from your face.  

“Would you believe that woman came here to coerce me into taking her daughter’s hand?” rasps your king, voice descending into a secret. 

You swallow, staring between his eyes, unconsciously leaning back. You nod when words fail you. Bristle as a set of spindly fingers creep down your forearm in pursuit of your hand, scorching through the fibers of your coat.  

Your breath catches whilst His Majesty brings your hand to his lips, and he kisses it with as much fervor as he did in the gardens. It’s a simple gesture. An innocent one that feels perverse in a way, burning down to your core, the molten heat creeping back up to take residence in your neck and face.

“The only hand I wish to hold,” he smooths his thumb over the notches of your knuckles like a blind mind committing their texture to memory, “is this one.” Another brush of full lips makes you wince as if branded by hot iron. 

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Not with him so close, nor with the potency of his gaze drilling down to your soul. You wonder if he’s trying to kill you when he tugs you to him, a possessive hand falling to your hip. 

Whatever oxygen was left in your lungs abandons you in a sharp gasp, making way for a pleasant fuzziness and overwhelming heat. He snakes his arm around your waist before dipping you like the pair of you are waltzing, and your hand instinctively clasps around his shoulder to keep you from crumbling to the floor.  

Hooded eyes pan in, filling your vision with nothing but a beautiful wash of red. His stare centers in on your mouth, and he leans closer until your breaths intermingle, and your limbs feel like jelly, and you’re lightheaded, and…and—

You screw your eyes shut, pushing your palms against his catastrophically hard chest. He’s a dream forged by the Gods. Temptation sent to lure you astray.

“Majesty,” you gasp. You sound so incredibly pitiful, so breathless, and it makes you sick. “Majesty, please. You can’t—we can’t—” You twist your head, pillow-soft lips grazing your cheek instead of your mouth, pleasant tingles of sensation humming throughout your body.

“Can’t what?” he breathes, voice strained with the effort of containing himself whilst he roots his nose against the tender space behind your ear. He draws you closer against the hard press of his body whilst nosing along your jaw, ingesting the warm scent wafting off your skin.  

Your shoulder throbs beneath your uniform where two raw indentations reside. They’ve never truly healed after two years, the pain announcing itself in intimate quarters like this with your king. It’s a reminder of your anchor to him, to what truly lives beneath his skin. 

“The maids, the guards. What if—” You scramble for every excuse not to give in. Not to betray the oath you took to protect him. To always put him first, to never fall for him. “—what if someone sees us, Majesty?”

A bitten-off, barely there growl cleaves through your ramblings. Lithe fingers encase your jaw, coaxing you to look at your charge. A glacial thrill shoots through your body at the sight that greets you. White, mussed hair falls perfectly into his face, lips parted and glistening invitingly, eyes wrinkling with a mixture of anguish and yearning. He reminds you of something beastly, fighting to reign in his instincts. Fighting not to lose control. 

“You’ve known me for however long, yet you insist on calling me that.” 

He gathers your cheek into his pleasantly warm palm, angling your neck further back. You fight to keep your eyes open, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. You’re spilling over the edge. Teetering over that blurry line between daydreams and reality. 

“Majesty this, Your Majesty that.” Scoff. “Is this your way of shutting me out? Pushing me away?”

You haven’t the gall to tell him yes, too distracted by the flats of his nails dragging along your cheek, sweeping errant hair strands behind your ear. You shudder, and he pans in, your mouths but a whisker’s width apart.  

“If you carry on like this, I may have to punish you for your insolence.”

You suck in a breath at the underlying threat in his voice. Know it carries no weight. He’d never lay a finger on you outside of affection. But how wonderful it sounds, to be punished for your insubordination. 

Your noses brush, mouths ghosting over each other whilst careful fingers curl around your nape, scrawling through your hair. You fear that you might faint, the heat spooling in your belly threatening to burn through layers of flesh. You’re clutching the lapels of his jacket for dear life now. Torturing yourself, wanting to conquer what little space remains between your mouths and—

Forbidden. The accursed word echoes in your mind like the weighted chime of a church bell. It resounds so miserably in your mind, reminding you of your place. Your duty. You’re no noblewoman. No contender for his heart. 

“Please don’t,” you utter between a laugh and a sob. Begging is unbecoming of you, but when it comes to protecting your king and his crown, you would fall to your knees if you had to.

A pained sound tears through His Majesty’s chest, crackling like a hearth fire. You feel terrible for denying him again. For pushing him away like you always do. But many women regularly throw themselves at his feet, willing to ease his affliction—women of noble blood, of virtue. 

Grief furrows his brows, his eyes sweeping over your face. A forlorn smile touches his lips. He exhales loudly, shakily, his thumb cruising over the outward arc of your brow, his gaze tracking the gentle movement. 

“Of everything that resides within these walls, within this kingdom, you manage to elude me the most.” 

His eyes snap to yours, and you shiver beneath the weight they boast. He could easily flex his power over you. Command you to stay still while he ravages you. But that’s never been his style, has it? Another trait of his drawing you deeper into his spell. 

“Why do you run from me? Why do you continue to deny me? Why continue to deny yourself? I hear how your body calls to me. Your heartbeat, your scent. So ripe. So untainted.” 

The exasperation in his voice makes your stomach lurch. 

I’m not denying anyone, you wish to say. I just…I don’t know. I don’t—

“Where in the hells is he?!” a familiar voice ricochets through the empty hallway—your saving grace. Seems his advisor is on a rampage again. You’ve never wanted to kiss the stoutly man more.

“Impeccable timing as always,” sighs your king, rolling his eyes. He reluctantly releases you, his hands at his waist until your legs remember they are meant to support you. 

Just as you spring apart, smoothing out the wrinkles of your uniform, your hair spills in warm tendrils down your neck, puddling around your shoulders, water-falling from its usual coif. 

You blink incredulously, taking note of the impish smirk canting the king’s lips. Something silver gleams in your periphery.

You watch with horror as he twirls your hairpin between dexterous fingers before bringing the warm, tarnished metal to his lips for a kiss. It’s an intimate sight. An image that makes a shiver wrack your spine, and you don’t know whether to be flattered or mortified. 

“Y-Your Majesty, give that back!”

The monarch in question chuckles something smoky, dangling the ornate pin out of reach when you swipe at it. He has an unfair advantage over you. You contemplate kicking him, figuring the risk of losing your foot is well worth it. 

Your breasts scrub against him as you struggle on tippy toes, clawing at your hairpin with the ferocity of a cat. And as your nipples knot beneath the rough glide of your uniform, you are reminded of the devastating press of His Majesty’s body. By the Gods, it’s too much. You’re sure your face is all types of flustered now, heat spuming beneath your skin.

“My, my. Throwing yourself at your king like this. How scandalous,” he purrs, enjoying your plight a little too much. His twisted way of getting revenge. 

“Your Majesty, that is my mother’s,” you pant, taking a step back with beseeching eyes. 

He clicks his tongue, studying the pin as if it houses all the secrets to your bloodline. “That makes the spoils of victory that much sweeter.”

You watch with puffed up cheeks as he tucks the hairpin into his breast pocket, the jaded metal gleaming condescendingly at you. 

“Consider it collateral.”

For what, you haven’t the foggiest. 

With all the smugness of the world, your king brushes past you, his hands in his pockets. You stomp behind him, fighting to keep stride with his longer ones, clawing at his pocket when a moment presents itself. 

You try to sweep your hair into some semblance of neatness before the pair of you meet his advisor. Before curious eyes can form questions where there should be none. 

You hardly miss the enamored smile rounding his lips as he peers at you over his shoulder. 

“You lunatic,” you curse beneath your breath, barely concealing the hint of fondness inhabiting your voice.

— 

It all makes sense as you shackle his neck with a rusted collar. You can count on one hand how often you’ve had to do this in the past year. 

You step back after sliding your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. His eyes harbor a deep sadness despite the smirk on his face, baring a pointed canine. 

“What? No muzzle this time?”

You scoff, kneeling before him, defiantly peering into his eyes, a harsh forefinger pressed between his pectorals. “If you keep talking, I’ll have one of the twins fetch it from the car.”

He chuckles at your brazenness. Leave it to him to try to lighten the mood in an atmosphere rife with tension. Thick with urgency, with fear. He tests the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, ensuring they won’t give too much when they’re put to the test later.

As if on autopilot, you reach out to ease sweat-slicked hair from his forehead, and he pauses, those brilliantly devastating eyes drinking you in. 

He swallows, studying the ground. For the first time in a long time, you’ve seen true fear stain your king’s visage. 

“One day, I won’t leave this cage as the man you know and love.”

You scoff, masking your anxiety as you placatingly pat his thigh. You stand, swiping his coat on the way up, dust speckling its sleeves. You have to be strong. You’re slowly falling apart at the seams but must remain fearless. He needs all the strength you can lend him right now.

You give him a quick look, a brief upward pull of your lips, before turning away from your king, the cage’s heavy door squealing shut behind you. You err in your steps when he calls your name. Slightly tilt your chin over your shoulder.

“When that day comes, I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Your grip on his coat tightens, jaw set in a terse line. “That day will never come,” you murmur, more to yourself than him, and you hurry up the sand-laden stairs towards the structure’s entrance. 

The twins address you with curt nods as you pass them on your way to the car. Night and soaring evergreens stretch overhead like a yawning beast. The moon peers through the treetops, sluggishly cresting its way to the center of the sky.

You sling His Majesty’s coat across the backseat. Stiffen when a familiar glint of silver catches your sight from behind his breast pocket. You grit your teeth, leaning against the car door to grant yourself a moment of respite.

“How do you stand this? Does it ever get any easier?” you recall Tara asking, her eyes glossing over with a thin film of tears as she squeezed your hands. 

She was still fresh to this lifestyle. To this harrowing secret lurking beneath the kingdom. You couldn’t blame her for being scared witless. No one wanted to see the king in pain. Only a handful of people knew of his true nature. What bubbled beneath his skin. 

It never does, you think, pushing off from the car and slamming the door shut. 

Your boots crunch soundly over dead grass and splintered twigs as you make your way back to the twins. You squeeze Kieran’s shoulder reassuringly, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He nods, his somberness hidden beneath the gaudy beak of his mask. 

It never gets easier, hearing him scream like that. Bloodcurdling and raw, reminiscent of a demon clawing its way from the hells. Hearing him call to you in a voice so broken, you feel its talons sinking into your heart. You’ve just grown more skilled at hiding your pain. Holding back your tears.

What good are you if you can’t even protect your liege from himself?

— tags: @f1c-recs, @mt2sssss, @samoankpoper21, @lovemesomesaltysylus

prologue | masterlist

[loufr6]

pick a card – what your future boyfriend will be like

hey loves! so many of you have asked me for love readings, and the ones I’ve done so far have gotten such positive feedback, so I thought… why not try my very first Pick a Card for you all?

take a moment to relax, clear your mind, and simply choose one of several piles or images that resonate with you the most. Each pile is linked to a unique tarot spread, and the cards in that pile will give you insights into your situation trust your intuition, let’s see what the cards have to say about your future boyfriend!

scroll down for your reading…

pile 1 – the dreamy but insecure romantic

cards: the star (reversed), the empress, the high priestess, the world

your future boyfriend has so much potential, but he tends to doubt himself a lot. the star reversed shows that he might have gone through some tough times that have shaken his confidence in love, but don’t worry—he’s healing. with the empress and the high priestess, he is deep, sensitive, and very in touch with his emotions. he admires someone who is emotionally intelligent and knows how to connect on a deeper level. the world suggests that this relationship will be whole and fulfilling, possibly involving travel or being from different backgrounds. it will feel complete and full of potential, but it might take some time for him to fully open up to you.

♡ where you might meet: through travel, online, or a creative/spiritual setting.

pile 2 – the mysterious intellectual

cards: the hermit, the hierophant (reversed), strength, the magician

this man is not the type to rush into things. the hermit shows he is introspective, wise, and prefers to take his time. he might even seem a little distant or reserved at first. the hierophant reversed suggests he might not follow the traditional path in love, and he could have an unconventional view of relationships. but here’s the beauty—strength and the magician show that once he’s ready, he’s incredibly powerful and determined. he’s someone who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to make things happen. he’s likely to be successful in his career and creative pursuits, and his quiet confidence will draw you in.

♡ where you might meet: at a place of learning or intellectual discussion, work, or a deep event that sparks curiosity.

pile 3 – the reformed bad boy with a golden heart

cards: the devil (reversed), the sun, judgment (reversed), death

this guy has been through a lot and is really learning how to let go of his past. the devil reversed tells me he’s breaking free from toxic cycles or habits. he might have a wild side, but he’s working on finding balance. the sun shows that when he’s in a good place, he is radiating positivity and love—he’ll light up your world. but he’s still navigating a few things. judgment reversed suggests that he’s a little hesitant about embracing the full change he needs to grow. still, death is here, and that’s a card of transformation. he’s on the verge of letting go of what no longer serves him and stepping into a much better future.

♡ where you might meet: during a period of change or a big life transformation for both of you.

pile 4 – the passionate but mysterious lover

cards: the lovers, the wheel of fortune, the moon, the chariot

this man is a mix of deep passion and mystery. the lovers shows that he’s someone who is very romantic and could be torn between a few paths in life, especially when it comes to love. it’s possible he has a lot of options but is waiting for the right one to come along. the wheel of fortune suggests that your connection will feel fated—as if it was meant to be. things might fall into place at just the right time, but he does have a secretive side (thanks to the moon). he might not always show you all of himself at first, but the chariot tells me that when he commits, he does it with everything he has.

♡ where you might meet: an unexpected situation, or perhaps when things in your life are shifting or changing.

which pile did you pick? does it resonate with you? let me know in the comments!

[telephoniii]

WHY WOULD A FELLOW WANT A GIRL LIKE HER?

☆彡 in which malleus and leona fight for your affections

leona kingscholar x gn!reader & malleus draconia x gn!reader

word counter: 4K

warnings: reader is prefect, cursing, love triangle, possible ooc

a/n: based off of the song “stepsister’s lament” from cinderella the musical— hence the title. one of my favorite works!! I had fun writing this!! both mal and leona are capital p PETTY and I'm living for it. i hope you enjoy :>

No matter how much he claims he doesn't care, Leona finds himself hissing at the sight of you and Malleus together. He wants to deny it so badly— but deep down he knows. 

He knows as he glares at you, sitting on a bench beside the fae, giggling and having a jolly old time. He’s well aware of what he’s feeling as he scoffs, telling the greedy hyena beside him that he’s returning to the dorm.

And he’s fully conscious as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling; unable to get the image of you and that spiny horned reptile out of his head. 

He’s jealous. Envious. And any damn variation of the sort.

Out of all the people you could choose to spend your time with, you pick that slimy lizard?! 

Your taste is questionable—who’s he kidding? Absolutely awful. Really, going for the guy who doesn’t age? Ever think about how awkward it’s going to be when you’re getting hip pains and he still looks like a teenager? Hell, he’s not one for settling down but wouldn’t you at least want someone with the capacity of growing old together?!

What does that scaley little scumbag do for you anyway?

Sure, Malleus does gift you little trinkets you’ve mentioned in passing. Leona isn’t blind; he can see the way you light up at these gifts. He distinctly remembers seeing a dorky gargoyle keychain on your bag. It stank of that fae freak. 

Yet you seemed to adore the tiny statue, so much so that you went on a small rant about the history. To Leona’s surprise, he listened to every single word you had to say about it. Gargoyles are always way more interesting when it’s you talking about it. 

Though, everything involving you is more interesting nowadays… He had to resist the urge to sand that stupid little toy right then and there.

And he’s well aware of the ‘secret’ walks the two of you have at unholy times of the night, talking about whatever that overgrown lizard is interested in. The way you speak of it like nobody knows is irritating. Only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on it. 

Too bad NRC is full of idiots.

It’s not like it matters too much anyway. He doubts Malleus has the charisma to charm you. The guy isn’t invited to a whole lot of events for a reason. While Leona knows he can come off as a prick, he’s still a prince nonetheless. He was taught how to flatter and flirt— he remembers being surrounded by a bunch of bootlickers as a cub. 

He isn’t intimidated by Malleus’s magic all too much either. Although he’s more than sure you wouldn’t fall for a person solely based on their strength, Leona believes he could take on Malleus. The lizard is painfully predictable after all. 

Not to mention most of his ‘shows of power’ are akin to temper tantrums. If dueling wasn’t banned, that pathetic excuse of a dragon would be dragged in the mud by him.

Everything Malleus does for you, he could do better. He’s sure of it. 

Beneath the surface, is he scared of coming second place to yet another person? Terrified that he’ll always be the second-best choice? That all the time spent with you would never be more than that? Maybe. 

But those night terrors are lessened when he sees you approach— knowing he was the sole reason you were there. 

Leona feels his heart race as you sit beside him, casually talking about your day and whatever hijinks you got into. He worries you might hear just how fast it beats for you when you nap with him, laying your head on his chest. 

As he hears you mumble his name in your sleep, he feels reassured that he’s your one. 

I mean— why would someone as great as you ever want a flimsy, little lizard? Especially when he’s right here, ready to be your pillow in hard and happy times. 

~

A green thunderbolt struck through the sky. Coincidentally, you happened to be napping on Leona outside when this happened— shaking the both of you awake.

Did Malleus do this on purpose?… Of course not. He’s not immature enough to do that, unlike a certain lion he knows.

It’s not his fault that you two were cuddling outside when he was ‘testing’ out something with his thunder.

That doesn’t mean he was any less satisfied watching you get up and walk back to your dorm, leaving that mangy cat by himself.

He never understood what value you gained from hanging around someone as…unusual as Kingscholar. A ‘prince’ who lays around, sleeping the day away? What a joke! Wouldn’t you rather have a prince— better yet a ruler— who’s proactive in his kingdom?

That flappy street cat is better suited to accompany Grim rather than yourself. 

He doubts Kingscholar would hold open the door for you like he does! 

Malleus has heard it’s a human custom to do so; ever since then, he’s now perfected the art of swiftly rushing over to a door and slamming it open for you. It delights him when you giggle at his antics. He bets that idiotic lion would never be able to do that— Kingscholar barely moves anyway. It’s like he’s glued to that bed of his.

Kingscholar seems as though he’d let the door slam in your face. That alone just shows how superior Malleus is to him. 

Although, Kingscholar’s words of advice indeed seemed to matter to you quite a lot. Every time you had attracted chaos, you commonly turned to the lazy loaf and asked for his perspective. And each time, without fail, Mal had watched you take the prince’s suggestion in stride and use it.

It pains him to admit it, sometimes Kingscholar can be rather clever. Malleus is somewhat glad that said lion uses his intelligence to keep you safe.

He doesn’t know what, but something about Kingscholar’s mere existence seems to relax you. Malleus has seen you look at ease in a way he’s never witnessed before when you simply just lay beside the other student. He watches with envy as Kingscholar’s tail protectively wraps around your thigh. 

As long as you’re safe… Malleus supposes he can bear through you hanging out with the lion.

That won’t stop him from interrupting the two of you whenever he feels the time is right. Sudden bolts of thunder, random objects falling from the sky and hitting Kingscholar on the head, out-of-the-blue power outages…

It’s all fair play to him. You still get to hang out with that lazy excuse of a prince anyway.

It doesn’t matter too much to him— at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s not as though you’d leave him to hang out with Kingscholar; no, you’d never. 

You’ll stay, won’t you?

He’s sure of it as you walk beside him in the dead of night. Nobody else knows, nor do they need to as you two stroll along the campus. Seeing your enthusiastic smile next to him as you talk about your dreams fills him with unexplainable joy. Malleus fights the urge to hold your hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

You seemed to have read his mind— you always do understand him like no other— as you glanced down at your hands. A small giggle leaves your lips before you inch your hand closer to his.

“Can we…?” You hum with hopeful and amused eyes.

Wordlessly, Malleus indulges now with your consent. The warmth of your hand compared to the polarizing coldness of his made him feel dizzy. In a good way. 

You’ll never leave him. At least not when you're hand in hand together like this.

~

“Man I’m starving— Hurry it up, henchman!” A familiar, squeaky voice demanded as Grim pushed on your shoulder. 

“Patience, patience. This is very important. It can determine my mood for the rest of the day.” You murmured, standing strong despite Grim’s efforts. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the different lunch options. 

What were you going to eat today?

“Prefect has a point. Your nutrition affects the way you function.” Jack shrugs behind Grim, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You say that like they’re going to eat something healthy.” Ace yawns, stretching out his arm and lightly hitting Deuce. “Hurry it up, Prefect! Clock’s ticking!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, you grabbed the same thing you’ve gotten for the past week. A series of groans emerged from behind you.

“All that time just to get that?” Ace crossed his arms, giving you an unamused look. 

“Okay, I’ll get something else then—“

“—Nononononono!” Practically everyone behind you yelled in a panic.

“Just go sit down ‘n secure us a table already!” Epel huffs, to which you happily comply.

You scout out the area, looking for a free table to sit at. Geez, was the cafeteria always this packed?

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you spot a familiar, robotic Shroud waving to you from a table.

“Prefect!” Ortho chirps, his voice synthesizer going a pitch up. Just as you were about to walk over, you felt your blazer being pulled on from the back. Suddenly, you were yanked away.

“Ay! Watch it—!” You grab the hand that was pulling on you, turning around to come face to face with a smug Ruggie.

“Leona’s callin’ you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He didn’t want to send a text or call? He just had to send a goon to come and get me?” 

Ruggie nodded with a cheeky grin.

“Yep.”

Groaning, you turn towards Ortho and wave him goodbye, signaling that you are going to leave. “Lead the way, hyena.”

And with that, you found yourself walking through the hallways on your way to Savanaclaw. You hope Ortho told the others about you leaving. It kinda slipped your mind to tell them.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard munching coming from Ruggie— “Wait, that's my lunch you’re eating! How’d you even…!? When did you…?!”

It also slipped your mind that Ruggie is both a great thief and greedy when it comes to food.

“Shishishishi… you left yourself open, Prefect! I’m sure Leona will get you something else to eat. He always does.”

“Always is a stretch.” You grumble, watching Ruggie eat your food. “Is it?” You didn’t want to ponder his question. 

Instead, you turn your gaze ahead of you and focus on walking… At least that’s what you would be doing if you didn’t walk face-first into somebody. 

“Gah! I’m so sorry—“ “Child of man.” 

Only one person used that nickname for you. Looking up, you were met with Malleus’s amused smile. 

“Impeccable timing,” The fae seemed happy to see you. You could see his fangs the way he was smiling. Ruggie was unsettled but thankful that Malleus was ignoring his presence. “Would you accompany me for lunch? Lilia, Sebek, and Silver will be there too, of course.” 

You were about to accept right away before you felt a light hit to your side. Ruggie sneakily elbowed you. Before you could curse at him, he gave you a look and— Oh, right. You were going with him to spend lunch with Leona already. A small frown made its way on your lips as you turned back to Malleus.

Great sevens, it was hard to turn him down. Especially when he was all cheery like this. 

Fortunately— or unfortunately, you didn’t have to. A roaring voice from behind you did it for you.

“Herbivore’s coming with me. They agreed to it already.” Leona huffed, a scowl clear on his face as he approached. Ruggie seemed surprised.

“Leona?! What’re you—“ “Did they now? I didn’t exactly hear them say no to my proposal though.” Malleus interrupted Ruggie, whose ears went flat against his head. 

“They don’t need to. They’ve already got plans.” The lion growled, narrowing his eyes at the other third year. 

Malleus stepped forward, the fae’s irritation growing. “Why do you insist on speaking for them so vigorously? My dear child of man, don’t let him dictate your choices—“

“I’m not doing shit. Just stating what they already agreed to.” Leona also stepped forward, refusing to back down. 

You were starting to get worried and turned your head to murmur something to Ruggie. Except Ruggie wasn’t there. The hyena snuck off already. Bastard. A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Well, Prefect? Who would you rather accompany? Kingscholar— who’ll likely laze around the whole lunch— or I?”

“Damn lizard…” Leona grumbled under his breath before shaking his head and facing you. “Well? The choice is yours. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering between the two. “Well… I—“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by a loud ring.

The lunch bell had rung. It was time to head back to class.

~

“Are you doing okay?” You ask, shifting closer to Leona. He lets out a small grunt in response, his eyes closed as he sprawled out in his usual spot inside the Botanical Garden. 

For as tough as Leona was, he was unusually soft when tired. He carried this relaxing air around him. That no matter what happens, you’ll be okay with him around. The thought makes you smile as you tilt your head at him.

He was also kinda cute when he laid there like that—

“Quit staring.”

Leona abruptly huffed out. Blinking in surprise, you soon realize that one of his eyes was cracked open. A tiny blush finds its way on your cheeks while he stutters out an apology. The lion’s lips soon form a smug grin.

“You were looking at me pretty attentively, herbivore…” His words are slow and agonizing. Leona’s tail swishes up and down as he leans in closer. Your eyes widen as he comes mere inches away from your face; from your lips.

“…Got something you want to tell me?” You feel your breath hitched at the sudden, feather-light touch of Leona’s hand against yours. Just as you were about to respond—

“Roi du Lions!” 

The romantic atmosphere Leona so carefully built went down the drain, along with his motivation. A groan left his lips.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Trey soon appears behind Rook, an apologetic expression on his face. You shake your head, standing up. 

“You’re good! What’re you two up to?” 

Leona had an annoyed look on his face as you engaged with the other students. He tried to ignore and drown out everyone’s voices. At least he was, till Rook caught his attention.

“During an exploration for new ingredients that we could bring to our club, Roi de Dragons made a magical appearance.“ You raised a brow while Leona’s ear flicked.

Trey let out a small chuckle at Rook’s dramatic storytelling.

“Malleus just asked us to find something for him in the Botanical Garden.” 

Leona’s scowl deepened. That damn lizard.

“Maybe we could help! What’re you looking for?” You offered.

Trey soon fiddled with his pocket, searching for something. Shortly after, he pulls out a piece of paper. “A… toy? It looks like this. Malleus said he last had it here.”

You made an “O” shape with your mouth. “His virtual pet! Gao-Gao!” Trey lets you hold the paper, letting you get a closer look at the drawing that resembled Malleus’s Tamogachi. 

“I know what it looks like, I’ve got no idea where he could’ve left it though…” Soon enough, you, Trey, and Rook are scouring the Botanical Gardens for this little toy. Leona finds this stupid. 

Slightly bitter about his ruined moment, he lays back down to take a nap.

That’s when his ear flinched after hitting something hard. Turning around with a displeased look, Leona’s eyes narrowed.

There, in his favorite sleeping spot was Malleus’s dumb toy —which wasn’t there literally minutes ago might he add. Picking it up, Leona contemplated crushing the small electronic. However, as he held it, the lion was quick to notice a bit of ink getting on his fingers. 

He turned the Tamogachi around. Written on the back with a blue pen was “Kingscholar :)”

Oh, that fucking Draconia did this on purpose.

~

Sitting up from your bed, you rub your eyes. With an annoyed groan, you get up and go to the door— trying not to wake Grim in the process. You could feel the ghost watching with curiosity. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you were curious too!

Who was knocking at 2 in the morning!?

The sun wasn’t even up. Ramshackle probably looked horrid, inside and outside, at this time.

You weren’t looking too great either: bags beneath your eyes, saggy pajamas, slouched posture… Vil would die on the spot if he saw you. Internally, you prayed it was anybody but him. And thank the Sevens that your prayer was answered.

You titled your head in confusion at the one in front of you.

“Malleus?” He smiled back at you. As though his appearance on your doorstep at the crack ass of dawn was the most normal thing ever.

“Greetings.”

You shook your head, still waking up and trying to make sense of the situation. “Do… Do you need something?”

Now he looked confused. Which only heightened your confusion.  The fae furrowed his brows. “Did you not want to talk, child of man?” 

“I like talking with you! Just, preferably not this early in the morning— Look, why are you here? Did you just want to hang out, Tsunotarou?” You tried being as polite as possible, but damn you were tired. 

Malleus looked just as lost as you.

“…Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the letter you sent me?” You look to the side, slightly scrunching your nose as you try to remember what ‘letter’ he was referring to. 

“Uhh— When did I send this letter?” You give him an apologetic smile. It wasn’t too far-fetched; the idea of you giving him an invitation to Ramshackle. 

However, you feel as though you would’ve remembered if you had actually done it. And you would’ve hoped that past you would be smart enough to set your invitation time to anytime BUT 2 AM. 

“I recall receiving this letter yesterday, in the library,” Malleus explained, his hand reaching into his pocket to find said paper. “You slipped it to me when you walked by—“

The fae grabbed his invitation, only for him to be met with sand that trickled down his hand.

“—with Kingscholar…” He fell silent as he stared at the tiny particles in his hand. You seemed to catch on quickly, giving him a sympathetic look as your eyes flickered between the sand and him.

“Tsunotarou, did you see me give you this letter?” 

The way he averted his eyes to the side, his pale cheeks faintly turning pink from embarrassment, already gave you the answer you needed. It’d be cute if not for the circumstances. As expected, Malleus shook his head.

“My apologies… I assumed it was you since I had acquired it right after you had waved at me and it was an invitation to Ramshackle.”

You let out a small chuckle before brushing off the sand that still dirtied his hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault that Leona is… well Leona and he does stuff like this.” Offering Malleus a smile, your hand soon intertwined with his. The blush on his cheeks subtly brightened.

“Well, you did come all this way just to hang out. It’d be a shame to turn you away now. Here, come.” You kick the door to open it wider and pull the fae inside Ramshackle. Leading him to the couch, you could gauge that Malleus was amused by your antics. Practically dragging one of the top mages in the world by the arm into your dorm…

“Let me just freshen up first! Wait here— I’ll be right back. Then we could watch some movies or whatever.” You shrugged with a grin before running upstairs to wash up. Malleus gave you a polite and happy wave as you exited.

Once you left, he let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he felt more sand pooling in his pockets. A green bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

That measly fucking lion.

~

You let out an aggravated sigh. Did they not think you realized what both of them were doing to each other? Between the Tamagotchi incident and the whole letter debacle a few nights ago, they were being so obvious.

Jeez, you get that they had a rivalry going on and whatnot, but why did they have to involve you? Fed up and rambling, you look to your side at Grim to get his thoughts on the matter. He sat next to you in the kitchen, munching away on a can of tuna.

“They’re getting really annoying! Stealing my henchmen’s time like that…” A chuckle left your lips at Grim’s bitterness, causing you to pet him on the head. 

“Mhm. I just want them to quit it— at least around me. I’m good friends with both and care a lot about them… Also, don’t talk with a mouthful.” You lightheartedly huff, getting up from your seat to grab Grim another can of tuna as he was beginning to finish his first. He usually ate two to three cans before bedtime.

“Why don’t ya just tell 'em?” The cat curiously asked with a tilt of the head, staring at you. You let out a snort. “Yeah, just tell two extremely powerful mages with an intense hatred for one another to stop. Like that’ll work.”

Grim let out an annoyed groan at your sarcasm. You opened a new can of tuna and slid it to him. His frown quickly disappeared as he began to dig in.

“Eh— sounds like Leona and Malleus could use some quality time together.” Grim offhandedly comments, chewing away on his food. 

“What did I say about talking with a mouthful, man?” You roll your eyes before falling silent, pondering his words. Quality time… Leona… Malleus…

“Grim! You’re a genius!”

~

“Herbivore, what the hell.” Leona’s tone was unamused, giving you a deadpan look.

“I thought it’d be nice if we hung out all together! As a group?” 

The two men stared daggers at each other across the small, dusty table in Ramshackle. With a nervous chuckle, your eyes flickered between the two as you slowly passed out cards for some random board game that Idia lent you.

Leona and Malleus didn’t take their eyes off one another. It was at this moment you were starting to think that Grim, in fact, was not a genius.

These two were definitely going to kill each other.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Constantine, Cyan, Equinox, the smell of coffee with honey @blooming-perse

It's John, so crude comments abound. Also I'm sleepy and first tense is hard so ignore the errors!

The wonderful dark smell of diner coffee is what finally rouses John. He shifts, just a little. Just enough that his arm presses against something and the wonderful warmth of what must be a fresh cup of coffee starts to seep through his jacket. It’s amazing.

It’s also confusing since he hasn’t ordered anything yet.

Summoning all of the strength that’s left in his battered body, John peels his face off the slightly sticky linoleum of the table. That is indeed a lovely cup of coffee. Black and with a bit of honey, just the way John likes it. He clutches at it desperately.

“Oh luv, what did I do to deserve you?”

“Are you asking that about the coffee or about me?”

An ass perches itself on the edge of the table and John stares at it appreciatively as he takes a long sip of the coffee.

“Bit of both, honestly,” John admits. He let’s his gaze trail down the long leg before he makes himself drag his vision up to Danny’s face. “But mostly it was mostly about you, handsome.”

“You just love me for my coffee,” Danny says. (He’s smiling, though, so John figures that Danny is at least mostly joking.)

“Well the coffee doesn’t hurt, luv,” John says, “but don’t sell your dick short either.”

That startles a laugh out of Danny, who pushes himself up off the table. “There’s nothing short about my dick.”

“Don’t I know it.” John grins even though it makes the bruise forming on his face hurt.

Danny touches the spot lightly and with a little hiss. “Let me guess, it’s a pancake, two egg, extra bacon sort of night?”

“And keep the coffee coming.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Danny says as he heads towards the kitchen to put in the order.

John lets himself sag back into the booth. “You’re the best luv, really, coffee, dick, and everything else.”

[gawkgokgok]

Silence of the lambs

Aemond Targaryen x Daemons daughter!reader

summary: You and Aemond married for the peace of the realm even though you disliked each other. Peace is the last thing you would find in your chambers...

warnings: MDNI, subtle violence, reluctant kissing, choking, attempted rape, a bit of a praise, tiddies!, all this but its suppose to be hurt/comfort😭😭 almost 2.3k

a/n: this is the first and probably the last thing I'll ever write. just had some fun and decided to share it here.🩵 English ain't my shit, sorry for the mistakes. hope this won't be a waste of your time divider credit @cafekitsune (hope that's okay) :P

Cold.

Cold and distant.

Two moons passed since your wedding day. Even though you shared chambers you limped to get used to each other. Stiff. Not present. If you talked it would be the smallest, briefest conversations only about necessary. Usually it was silence. That’s all you knew. And perhaps it was for the best...

Silence in the morns. Silence in the day. Silence in the nights. Most familiar whisper of your rooms was crunchy fire. The only thing that kept this place from turning into a dungeon.

Dungeon with chains lost on the eyes.

You returned tired to your shared coffins. Spending your evening with pregnant Helaena and her twins. Playing until little offsprings got tired and ready for their cribs. You seeked change. Anything, just to get the obese hours pass quicker.

Hands of wind grabbed your ankles and planted shivers across your skin. Balcony door was wide open. He stood there. Face in his palms. Or so you thought. His back was covering any chance of view. You pursed your lips. Should you worry? Should you talk to him? Would it make things worse?

The slouching of his shoulders made you sigh and slowly approach. You ideated running your palm across his broad form to soothe him. But you feared of overstepping.

"Did something happen?" It was quiet. Not particularly soft, but quiet.

Your eye caught his arms tensing up. You hated that your presence and voice made him like this. You didn’t care at first, but it was becoming frustrating.

He didn't look at you. He was quiet for a long moment before he put you back in your place. "...nothing happened."

You stared at his nape, covered by waves of moonshine. He was being difficult, and you just wanted to go to sleep and close the damn doors. Curling your tongue in your mouth, you gathered strength to stay calm.

"Are you alright?"

You felt his anger grow. The last thing he wanted was your concern and your worry. "I’m fine." He cut the air with his teeth.

Your heart stilled at his harsh tone. Overstepping. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it and warily stepped back into your chambers. You didn’t wish to argue. Deep down you preferred silence over arguments. If he doesn’t wish to speak what’s troubling him, who are you to press matters?

You left him to his thoughts. Retreating with tail between your legs as you started getting yourself ready for the bed.

You were used to him hiding his feelings away but whenever you would show concern (as rare as it was) or try to ask about anything, the storm would just take over his mind. He had no interest to trust you an you respected that. Not like you shared many of your thoughts to him either. To anyone, really. Being the daughter of the man he hated, you understood... to certain extents.

You heard the balcony door close just as you moved the covers under which you planned to hide and let your body and mind rest. He strode over to you, his hand grasping around your upper arm as he turned you around to face him. You gasped in shock and before you could wince from his iron grip, your mouth was muffled by his. Pushing your lips apart with his restless tongue, forcing cold shivers down your spine as he tried to drown you in his control.

You didn’t know what scared you more, his assault or his sudden behavior. You couldn’t tear your arm away. You couldn’t arch your head away. You couldn’t even welcome air in your system. Liquid in your veins was gaining adrenalin. You were almost trembling from fear. You started expecting the worst...

He scoffed at your whines of protest and pushed you on your back, slamming you on the soft mattress. You winced slightly when you hit the bed. Short-term pain quickly overshadowed by terror. His body savaged over yours in an instant.

"Ae- Aemond, what are you- what’s gotten into you!?"

He was deaf as he started pulling your night shift up. And you looked up at him with wide and terrified eyes, unable to fight back his strength. Whatever was dancing in his sharp violet one... it smelled rotten.

"What's gotten into me?" His voice was strained as he fought to keep your limbs in place. A low, mocking laugh rang as he focused his gaze on your heaving chest. "Lets find out."

Your eyelids strained even more. Throat drying up. Breath hitching out of control along with your shaking body.

The only time you consummated was on your wedding night. It wasn’t pleasant. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t enjoying it. And you knew he didn’t either. This was completely out of the blue and his rage was blood-freezing.

You were scared, yes, but you were more scared of the idea what would happen if you started actually resisting... He never hit you, but the tales of his temper rolled around the corridors like plague.

Dark pleasure filled his stare. He could see the hesitation in you, the tremble and fear. But he didn't care. He knew he had you right where he wanted. His bruising touch on your skin felt ten times heightened now that you fell completely out of control. Getting hunted down...

"Good. That's good..."

Aemond praised with a twisted smile. His hand moved from your wrists to your neck, his large hand wrapping around you and holding you down. You shivered when his palm had more control over your breathing than you. His other hand passed along your body, feeling every curve and angle of your frame. Your breath couldn’t even hitch every time his fingers grazed over your plush stomach and waist. Your fists bagged the sheets firmly and you shut your eyes as you let him do what he wanted.

He was lost in his own desire, in his own lust. Ignoring your discomfort. He just needed to satisfy his needs. He needed to let out his frustration somehow. Or on someone... He continued roaming his hands across your body, touching you like you were a toy.

"You're so beautiful..."

Your eyes shot opened as you heard his mumbles. Seeing how he was fixated on your body, you took the chance before the damage could be done. Marital rape was not on your list tonight. You bit your tongue and dared to touch him, cupping his cheek. "...Can-... can you at least tell me what's wrong?...Please."

His jaw clenched. Your touch was so soft, so gentle and so different from the grip he had on you. It took him by surprise. His eyes locked with yours. He was quiet for a moment, the darkness in his gaze fading for a quickly-lost moment.

"It's nothing. There's nothing wrong." He muttered through gritted teeth, moving his head to the side to avoid your warm hand. His brows twitched into a frown and his hands hooked in your smallclothes.

Your fingers curled into a fist before you let your hand drop. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know how to calm him. How to reason him. How to talk to him.... You were his wife and you had no clue how to handle him. Bitterness stashed your mouth. You sighed heavily. He already had your mound bare.

"..this won’t solve whatever’s bothering you." You tried to sound calm. Tried to appear like you weren’t fighting for the right over your body right now.

He huffed, becoming more and more irritated with you. Pushing your nightgown over your chest. His voice was low and ragged as he saw how cool air affected your nipples.

"It would. It can. At least for a moment.."

"Please, let me help you.." ..somehow, you hoped. Carding your hand through his silver locks, pulling the strands back so they weren’t falling over your faces as he loomed over you.

"....I’ll listen. I promise." And you meant it. You’d do anything to avoid this situation. If it meant behaving like a proper loving wife who listens and cares, you would do it. Despite the resentment you hold for each other.

Your gazes locked as he listened to your pointless rambles. There was a flicker of hesitation, but he flashed it away with a mutter as he cupped your breasts. "It's nothing. I just had a bad day."

"Then let me hear about your day."

You covered his big hands with yours and you felt him twitch. Surprise washed over his face as he looked back up your eyes once again. You noticed his observing eye roam over your features and you softened your whole demeanor. You meant it. You were fucking tired of this. The silence. The distance. The feeling of constant unwelcomeness. You just wanted to enter your chambers ONCE and be relaxed in his presence...

Looking at you, seeking sincerity and curiosity in your eyes, he closed his own and sighed. "It was tiresome, lots of meeting, training, planning for the future... everything that’s expected of me."

You nodded slowly, listening to every word that rolled off his tongue. And you noticed it. A silver of honesty, perhaps even trust. Your nails skied up his arm, gently scratching his nape. You wanted to make him as calm as possible. "...you’re tired..?"

Aemond let out a low purr, his eye fluttering shut. "Hm."

You pulled his shoulders so he would lay down on you, wrapping arms around his neck. You felt tension all over his body, but you didn’t care. If he thinks he can do whatever he wanted with you, so could you with him. You tucked his head under your chin.

You were trying to value his emotions. As hard as it was... you understood what he meant. You didn’t know every detail of his training nor his council meetings, but you knew what it meant to be drained. Exhausted. And that was enough to make you empathic.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged and heavy. You held him tighter, your arms getting a rush of protectiveness. Letting him find shelter in your embrace. Solace in your arms. Peace in your scent and warmth. You wanted to make him feel heard and seen. He held onto you, his arms wrapping around your waist as if he was holding onto for dear life. You felt it. You sensed the shift. He was allowing you to see him. To see his vulnerability. To dive below the surface of his thick skin.

"It's just too much sometimes. I don't know if I can do it anymore." You felt his lips brush along your skin as he mumbled quietly.

"I know. I know it is, but draining yourself to the last drop isn’t doing you any good. And satisfying everyone’s expectations is impossible."

You tried to comfort him. And seeing this softer side of him. This... lost, broken boy. It made you desire gentleness towards him.

"...I know you don’t like being told what to do, but I’m advising you... let that dumb old cunt go. Otto is not worth your time or energy. He never was. Ungrateful people don’t deserve the effort you’re putting up, Aemond."

From your FAR point of view you knew enough. You knew why Aemond was the way he was. Even though you struggled to understand his dark motives most of the time, you understood where he was coming from. And being a child loved only under conditions does that to a person. You secretly admired that he’s still standing and isn’t reaching for cups like Aegon.

"I know. It’s hard to see it and let go, especially when that someone is your family..."

You sighed, plucking the right words...

"...but I’m your family now."

Even though your marriage has been distant and cold, you still had time to change that... right?

His silence made you chew your lips nervously. You really had no idea what you were doing nor saying... He shifted slightly to look at you, his eye overflowing with emotions. He didn't say anything, just looked at you, searching your face for something.

"I know you didn’t choose me. I know I didn’t choose you. I know we agreed only for the greater good, but... I’m tired sometimes as well. I wish we didn’t resent each other."

You whispered honestly while taking in his pained expression. It broke your heart knowing even you, his wife, struggled to give him the care and affection.

He took a deep breath and gently touched your cheek, his fingertips lightly caressing your skin. "I'm sorry for the way I've been... towards you." He whispered and pulled the nightgown down, covering your body.

You leaned into his touch. Wanting him to know that he’s welcome to you from now on. Your smiled even though you were terrified when he jumped you. "...it’s our first time being married, right?"

Aemonds eye wrinkled, a small, barely-there smile tugged the corners of his lips.

It was nice to see him smile, even if the situation was far from funny, but he was calm. And that’s all that mattered to you.

Warm.

Warm and close.

Silence. That’s all you knew. And yet... it felt good. It felt right.

You helped him with the buttons of his leather doublet. Changing him in his night clothes as you both exchanged soft looks and amused smiles. You hid under the sheets and cuddled until you let lambs bounce your minds away. You let him sleep in your chest.. cling to you.. seek your comfort. And you didn’t even wish to think about denying him. For the first time, you felt truly at peace in his presence. You will be the wife he needs.

[softaestluv]

Sticky When Wet

Three times Ghost swore he hated honey with his tea and one time he admitted he couldn’t live without it.

Alpha! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Omega! Reader

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega stereotypical behavior, Scenting, Angst, Miscommunications, Denial, Simon is bad at feelings, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Size difference, Eventual smut

CW: This chapter does contain a little bit of non consensual touching of the face & harassment. However, Ghost is not the one doing it.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 4, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

It’s not that you needed someone to look after you, truthfully. You weren’t some weak omega who needed an alpha’s protection— Ghost’s protection.

Ghost just so happened to find himself in these situations; he didn’t want an omega to protect.

Maybe he was lying. Maybe.

However, he couldn’t sit and do nothing about it; his alpha wouldn’t let him, not when it involved you. He could only stand there and listen to a group of trainees rave about you, your honey scent, for so long. They were supposed to be training, but all they seemed to focus on was your lithe frame across the gym and your tempting movements.

Ghost didn’t even know why you were here. Why you chose to work out at this specific time for everyone to see. You didn’t need to work out. You worked in the cafeteria on base; it’s not like you were about to be deployed. Not like Ghost would even allow that to happen if it were possible.

You didn’t need muscle; he was all the strength you would ever need, enough for the both of you. You could remain soft and squishy, plump in all the right places. Just like an omega should be, supple flesh, bulging curves for him to hold, squeeze, use as leverage.

Yet there you were, across the gym during training, for all the recruits to see for some reason. It’s like you fucking wanted them to ogle at you. Ogle at the pretty omega working out in an outfit that seemed too small to be proper clothing. Shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass, rising every so often to reveal a sliver of plump skin during certain movements. Fitted shirt that cinched in the front, deep neckline jutting the fat of your breasts out.

Simon didn’t even want to acknowledge the rest. He didn’t care about it, really. Didn’t care that the plump flesh of your thighs jiggled with each new exercise or how your breasts bounced softly, tauntingly.

He didn’t notice any of it.

Didn’t notice the sweat cascading down your precious skin or how it collected in your collarbones, cleavage, or upper lip. Covering your body in a glistening sheen. Ghost didn’t see any of that; he didn’t even care enough to spare you a glance.

Why would he? He could fucking smell your stench miles away, even through the other alpha's strong scents.

The tones of sage honey and sweet tangerine remained, but now a natural musk joined. An overwhelming scent of sweat and exhaustion intermingled with your sweetness. Ghost supposed you would smell that exact way during sex, though it lacked the arousal that would seep from your scent glands. Tainting the saccharine smell raw and tempting.

He didn’t know what the big deal was. Why all the other men couldn’t keep their urges in their pants to save their lives. No one else complained about your pungent aroma; instead, they seemed to do the complete opposite. Foaming at the mouth like they’ve never smelt omega before. Like your scent was divinity on earth.

The perverted men almost disgusted him more than your scent. Enraged him when they talked about you like you were their dessert.

“Jesus, training ain’t so bad when you get a pretty little show like that, huh?” A recruit laughed, gesturing to your form on the yoga mat.

“You got that right. Practically wearing nothing too,” The second alpha added, smirking wolfishly in response.

The first recruit clapped the other on the back, pulling him closer to mumble to him as if Ghost still couldn’t hear the deceitful words he wanted to share, “Like she wants us to watch her. Especially with that honey fucking scent, begging for our attention.”

“Watch her? She’s probably close to her heat. She's desperate for one of us to fuck her,” the other chuckled.

Ghost's skin was already burning, scalding his bones, but those words, even the thought of another man taking you during your heat had him seeing red. Your heat of all times to take you. When you were so desperate you’d take any alpha that was willing. Regardless of their ulterior motives, regardless if they wouldn’t take care of you the way Ghost would.

You wouldn’t be able to think straight during your heat, just searching for a mate who could knot you, and the fact that the other alphas even thought of taking advantage of your vulnerable state made him seethe with rage.

Besides, Ghost is the only alpha that could take care of you the way you need.

Not like he wanted to help you through your heat.

But at least he would honor your boundaries; your limits. Give you what you craved the way you wanted, not the way he did. Make your throbbing pain go away with his thick knot, keep you nice and satisfied on his cock.

Not like he wanted that.

He was appalled by the thought of your honey scent. Disgusted by the thought of your honeyed slick coating his knot, drenching him sticky, squeezing him tightly.

“Little petite thing too; she’d be easy to make obey.”

God.

Simon was sure there wasn’t a god, but just hearing those words had him hoping there was a higher being to control his actions. Unfortunately, the trainee was right. You were petite. Small structure, lithe frame, dainty little figure. Easily overpowered by every alpha in this room, by Ghost. Tiny little thing in comparison to his massive body. Which is why you do need an alpha’s protection, especially from these men.

You would obey. Though not because you wanted to but because your instincts had no choice but to submit to an alpha’s voice. Simon wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t use his alpha voice with you; wouldn’t even let his scent seep into the room. Intense training had taught him how to control his scent; he would keep the room as sterol as possible keep his dominating scent to a minimum so that your decision was ultimately made by you and not instincts or hormones.

One of the men walked to you, bending over your lying frame on the yoga mat. His dark shadow loomed over your body as you looked up in shock, sliding your headphones off. Simon couldn’t tell what the other man was saying from here, but his jaw ticked in irritation watching you chuckle lightly at whatever he said, sitting up from your lying position.

The man reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he iterated smug words to you. Ghost’s alpha snarled loudly in his chest, plotting the other man’s death for even putting his fingers on your pure skin. Tainting your purity. Your scent instantly soured, natural musk turning into apprehension and fright.

Ghost's feet were moving before he even realized, alpha urging him to do something to eliminate the threat to the omega. His hand gravitated to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. The nervous energy seeped off you, your irises drowning in anxiety as you flickered your eyes at him.

“Hmm?” The alpha hummed, “A dainty omega like you should have an alpha to fuck you through your heat, no?”

You gulped thickly, “N-Not gonna go into heat anytime soon. I’m on suppressants.”

That sentence had Ghost swallowing just as loudly. If this is how strong your scent radiated off you on suppressants, he couldn’t even imagine how strong you would smell off of them. Honeyed scent already ruined his black tea, ruined his food. Made his head throb in irritation and disgust from how overwhelming your sickly sweet scent filled the mess hall. He was sure his head would pulse erratically, probably explode in frustration, if he ever smelt your raw, unfiltered scent. Nauseate him to the core with how sweet you would smell, rot his teeth from one breath.

“What a shame,” He continued, “Though, doesn’t mean you still don’t need an ache met.”

“I’m not looking for that right now,” You mumbled weakly, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you avoided his domineering gaze.

“No? Why not? I could give you what you want,” The sergeant continued despite your obvious apprehensions.

“Sergeant.”

The man's eyes snapped up to Ghost’s, raising his eyebrows at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ghost snarled, practically yelling in anger, rage purposely seeping through his scent glands to ward off the other alpha.

“Just talking to this little bird is all,” He responded, smirking proudly as he rubbed his thumb over your chin.

A motion that had you flinching away slightly. A motion that had his alpha growling loudly in warning, balling his fists. A growl that had the other man halting his movements.

“Do I need to take this up with Captain Price? Or would you rather I address this issue myself?” Ghost gritted through his teeth, holding in the urge to solve the problem by ridding him of this Earth himself.

“No, s-sir. You don’t have to tell captain,” The other man stuttered, confident tone disappearing as Ghost stood over him, skull balaclava casting shadows on his face.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here before I use you as an example during sparring.”

The sergeant nodded swiftly, running off just as all the other men had when they met Ghost’s wrath. You shifted from foot to foot, wearily looking up at him.

“Why do you let them do that?”

“Not to sound rude, sir, but I’m not letting them harass me. They just do it. Can’t really fight back against an alpha. I mean,” you chuckled lightly, hands gesturing down your body, “Not really built for that.”

Simon clenched his fists tightly, focusing on your doe eyes so his irises wouldn’t follow your movements, trace every curve on your body. He knew you weren’t built for that. God, did he know. But your dainty frame was definitely built for other things.

“Maybe if you didn’t parade your scent around they wouldn’t approach you so often.”

Your brows furrowed, just as they did in the cafeteria, confusion blooming on your face once again, “Sir, I am doing no such thing. I’m on suppressants.”

Ghost sighed, eyes twitching in irritation, “Next time, come get me. I’ll deal with them.”

Your face flushed a pretty pink, swiping your tongue across your lips, “You don’t have to-“

“Come get me.”

His gaze pinned you to the spot; end of your sentence evaporated from your lips as he interrupted you, nodding your head in agreement.

“Thank you for always looking out for me.”

Ghost grunted in acknowledgment, turning around to walk away, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could, stopping his movements. He looked down, your lip pinched between your teeth as you avoided his gaze.

“Um, is there a certain way you like your tea?” You asked, tiny hand awkwardly falling from his arm.

“What? Why does that matter?”

“Well, I always see you drink it in the mess hall, but if you want anything added I could always mix it in for you. Like milk.”

You paused, eyes shifting to find his.

“Or honey.”

Ghost almost grimaced as you said the word. Voice dripping in the same sugary warmth of your scent.

“Your scent already sweetens it enough as it is.”

The pink on your cheeks bloomed red, spreading to the tips of your ears at his words.

“I’ll try my best not to anymore, sir.”

And if the next day the mess hall smelt sterile, void of all sage honey and sweet tangerine, Ghost didn’t care.

If you served him a tray with scent blockers covering your scent glands, he didn’t feel guilty.

If he drank his black tea, it didn’t taste stale, didn’t lack any sweetness he craved. He was grateful even; he could finally drink his tea plain, just how it always should’ve been.

If he just so happened to leave his cup of tea untouched that day, it was simply because he wasn’t thirsty. Not because it burned his tongue bitterly.

Tag List: @terrifiedanimegirl @night-girl-301 @identity2212

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[artist-owl]

Maedhros’s eyes flicked up as the door to his study cracked open. A beat later, Elrond pushed it the rest of the way open with his back, both of his hands occupied with holding a tray.

Maedhros watched him impassively as Elrond walked up to his desk, carefully balancing a goblet of wine on the tray. “What is this, then?” he asked.

Elrond looked up at him. “I know you like to have wine after supper, and I thought I would bring you some.

Possibly, this was merely an attempt at a kind gesture from the young child, possibly even an attempt at placation. More likely, however…

Maedhros accepted the goblet, looking down at Elrond all the while. Elrond looked back guilelessly. Almost unnoticeably, his eyes flickered between Maedhros and the cup.

Maedhros brought the cup to his face and sniffed it. He paused again, considered it, then sighed, set the cup down on his desk, and looked back to Elrond. “Belladonna?”

The innocent look faltered. Elrond winced.

Maedhros sighed again, and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hand over his stump and peering over them at Elrond. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

Elrond clearly didn’t, but he thought about it, small face screwed up in thought. “I…don’t give you drinks usually, so that was weird?”

“Very good. Anything else?”

Elrond looked up at him blankly.

“May I explain?”

“Please,” Elrond mumbled.

Maedhros leaned back in his chair. “You are correct. The first thing that tipped me off was the unusual action – you have never served me anything before, so that was odd. It would have worked better had you done so and really just served me wine, and then made a habit of it. Eventually I would cease my suspicions, at least to the point that I would sometimes lower my guard and allow my mind to be otherwise occupied when you served it. It would not do to be over-hasty in this; you would need to wait and watch my reactions for a long time to discern when this point was reached, and then also when I did allow myself to pay you less mind. Are you following?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The second thing that tipped me off was your expression. You appeared over-eager, and were plainly waiting on my reaction. Even if I did not know to suspect an assassination attempt from you, I would have been cautious at that look – I had six younger brothers, I am familiar with pranks. The third thing,” he said, picking up the cup once more, “is that I am familiar with the scent of belladonna.”

Elrond made a face. “Drat,” he muttered.

The corner of Maedhros’s mouth twitched. “Quite. Now, there are two more things: a suggestion, and a reminder. The suggestion is thus: poison is the weapon of the cowardly and weak. It is the weapon of those who skulk about in the shadows rather than engage in honourable combat. There is a reason that orc weapons are poisoned, while Elven ones are not.”

Elrond’s face remained screwed up, but shifted to something more thoughtful. “But you’re five times my size, and a way better fighter. I can’t fight you like that and win. Isn’t utilizing cleverness and tactics a vital part of strategy? And knowing both your and your enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, to play up your strengths and downplay their weaknesses? It’s just strategy, and knowing to not try to fight a losing battle.”

“‘Knowingly fighting a losing battle is an excellent summation of the last four or so yéni of war.”

Elrond seemed to consider that. “I’m going to say something that you’re probably going to get mad at.”

“I appreciate the warning. I think.”

“The Noldor tried to assault Angband multiple times, and always failed, but Lúthien and Beren snuck in and got a Silmaril.”

Maedhros closed his eyes and carefully measured his breaths. “You were correct in your assessment,” he finally said.

“Sorry. What was the reminder?”

Maedhros sighed and took a sip from his cup. He lowered it to see Elrond staring at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Maedhros met his eyes and held his gaze for several beats. “I am an Elf. That which Men find poisonous most often has no effect on us.”

Elrond’s open-mouthed expression went from disbelief to rage in an instant, and he said something in Taliska that Maedhros did not understand and was going to assume was a swear. “I can’t believe I forgot that you…”

“I actually have been prescribed a tincture that included belladonna by my healers before. Regardless, I won’t be finishing this cup, because I need my wits about me tonight, and I have no clue what dosage you came up with.”

“Twice the lethal dose.”

“I have no idea how much nightshade it takes to kill a Man. Either way, it was a good try. I think it could have worked against many people. Remember what I told you. I look forward to your next attempt.”

“So that you can tell me how I failed at that one too?” Elrond asked glumly.

“I have full faith that you will be able to succeed in the future,” Maedhros comforted him.

headcanon that in the early days of their captivity Elrond and Elros tried to kill maedhros and maglor multiple times (even if half-heartedly. They are still good kids) and like, expected to be either punished, killed or thrown out and instead they got constructive criticism back

[grandline-fics]

Love Potion

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,663

A/N: Thank you @missrandomdreamer for requesting this one for the Valentine's Event. Hope you like what I came up with for this one, Smoker deserves the love so hopefully I did him justice on this. As always thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Is this really necessary?” Smoker grumbled around the cigars in his mouth as he shut the door to your room closed firmly. “I’m in perfect shape.”

“Every active member on this base has to undergo routine physicals, Vice-Admiral.” You spoke up from your desk as you grabbed his file and a pen. Even when he was wounded he protested the need to be tended to and while you were already expecting him to clear all your checks with no issues, you still had your job to do. Apologetically you looked at him as you rose. “No exceptions.”

Smoker made a disgruntled noise and glared at the examination bed he’d yet to approach. He swiftly turned his glare your way when you snatched the cigars from his mouth with ease and stubbed them out on the ashtray you always made sure to have in the room in the event Smoker would be coming by. You accepted his ire with an effortless smile, used to his perpetual grumpy and serious expression at this point. Lightly you nudged him along towards the bed. With all his strength and training he could have remained rooted in the spot had he wished but at your touch he relented and moved, eager to just get this over with.

As he sat down and zoned out, letting you do whatever checks and assessments necessary he began to think about how being here was actually a nice break. You weren’t going to pester him about changing the training schedule or beg to swap missions with another member of the base, you weren’t going to chase him about reports he forgot-or just didn’t care about- handing in for the higher ups at Marine’s main Headquarters. Best of all, any conversation you shared with him was appropriate and never prying beyond clear boundaries, unlike those under his command who thought any facet and avenue in his life was theirs to know and analyse obsessively over. Suddenly you made a surprised hum and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see you studying his face carefully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Why?” Smoker couldn’t help but become defensive, ready to argue that whatever you spotted or noticed in your tests was false. 

“It caused a spike in your otherwise steady blood pressure.” You explained, lips curving in slight amusement. Lightly you tapped your medical notes. “Can’t clear you if there’s a possibility of an underlying condition affecting your blood pressure or an area of stress that could hinder your work.”

“It’s nothing.” Smoker explained firmly. “Nothing for you to worry over. I’m not going to complain over something insignificant and stupid.”

“Wouldn’t call this spike insignificant. Come on tell me and I can help. It’s what doctors are for right?”

“I was getting annoyed about the subordinates prying into my personal life. They’re like gossiping teenagers sometimes.”

“Is that all?” You asked with a laugh, stepping away from him and unhooking the blood pressure monitor. “What do you expect? They’re bored in between missions and you’re the best source of entertainment on the base.

“I shouldn’t be entertainment, I’m their boss to be respected.” At that you snorted with an undignified burst of laughter causing him to frown. “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you swear out the higher ups countless times when they annoy you. You call that respect?” You teased, laughing again when he looked away from you and muttered about how even you were disrespectful to him. “So what did the bad subordinates pry into most recently.”

“Recently and consistently they bring up my love life or in their words ‘a tragic lack of’ one.” He scoffed. “Every mission it’s putting up with their incessant questions and on the way back it’s stupid schemes to set me up with someone.”

“It’s sweet that they care.” You reasoned only to hear him being to mutter again. With a soft sigh you grabbed his notes to update them. He was the picture of health as you both knew would be the end result. “But if it bothers you that much, take the mystery away from them and they’ll move on. Tell them you’re seeing someone.”

“Magic someone out of thin air?” Smoker shook his head. He shouldn’t have even entertained the notion. His life was his own, he didn’t need to lie or divulge information if he didn’t wish to. “They might act like fools but creating a pretend lover is something even they’d notice a mile off.”

“Sooo don’t make up someone. Use someone they know?” You advised, moving to your desk to officially give Smoker’s physical the stamp of approval needed. Seeing you move, Smoker fixed his jacket and pulled out two fresh cigars to light but for once he didn’t make his way to the door with a gruff ‘thanks Doc’ like he normally did, he was too caught up in your words as you continued. “Then after a couple weeks, stage a break up and they’ll leave you and your personal life alone while you deal with it in your own way.” 

“Who am I going to rope into this scheme that I know won’t blab what’s really going on?” Smoker asked while stepping closer to the desk. His interest was piqued and it seemed like a solid enough plan but he knew that gossip spread fast in the G5 base. The last thing he needed was to risk extra insult to his pride if his subordinates knew he was lying. Smoker was surprised when you lifted your head and smiled at him expectantly. “Wait. You’d go along with this?”

“Why not? Helps you out from getting your blood pressure dangerously high again.” You shrugged simply. “Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality means I can’t tell anyone. What do you say?”

A few minutes later one of the G5 Marines rounded the corner, preparing for his routine physical only to slide to a complete stop in shock. The sight of Vice-Admiral Smoker, his leader straightening from what was most certainly a kiss with the base’s top doctor. The Marine froze when Smoker turned sharply to glare at him while you bit your lower lip shyly and looked away from the wide-eyed gaze of the Marine who interrupted such a sweet and tender moment. Smoker dropped his hand from your lower back and walked towards the Marine. “Whatever you think you saw. You didn’t.” 

Smoker continued on his way, the Marine unable to see his smirk as everything was already set in motion. By the end of the afternoon it was all through the base, some iterations of the events witnessed exaggerated or completely different but it all got Smoker what he wanted; for his subordinates to have something to distract them from him. Technically they were still fixated on him, but now that they believed he was seeing you, they were now talking amongst themselves about the matter and leaving him alone. 

Throughout the day he’d overheard the conversations both mixed and speculative. Some tried to work out when the romance had started and even that split theories and opinions. It had to have been recent because there was no way you both had hidden it for so long. It had to have been going on for a long time because it would explain why Smoker never looked at anyone else both off and on base. Some even declared they’d always known something was going on between Smoker and you and either way it was about damn time. 

For the next few weeks you and Smoker continued your subtle theatrics of being a couple and as you’d predicted the base that now there was no mystery to work out with Smoker’s love life, the base asked less questions. However when you appeared, even if it was passing by in the corridor the Marines looked your way in curiosity. Sometimes you did steal him away to say something useless or unimportant, just so you both appeared to be sharing a quick moment together when really it was just to keep your audience’s interest sated. One evening you found yourself in Smoker’s office, a new development that had occurred from your joint deception. While he finished reports at his desk, you reviewed your own medical reports from the comfort of the sofa he rarely seemed to use. While you both worked you engaged in idle but content conversation. 

“A friend of mine from one of the G7 base was in touch today.” You spoke up with an amused smile, not taking your eyes from your notes as you worked. “We’re one of the topics of conversation there too.” Smoker chuckled slightly at your report of how far the gossip had spread. 

“The interest in our relationship hasn’t died down at all.” He said with a small shake of his head.

“They’re so invested. They’ll be heartbroken when we end things.” You mused, too busy reading to notice Smoker's hand still in the writing of his own reports. He only now realised that that was the next stage in the plan; breaking up to gain full privacy again. Smoker hesitated to even admit it but he truly did enjoy your company. You were easy to be around, brought him a certain calm that he enjoyed. He tensed slightly when you asked him. “Have you considered when it’ll happen?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.” He admitted, that much he could confess. “They gossip but they're behaving for the most part, might just wait until they start to get bored. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Smoker glanced at you in time to see you finally glance his way and offer him a relaxed but warm smile. The same smile he found himself looking for a little more each day. Whenever he was ready? Something gnawed at him in the uncomfortable realisation that perhaps the only thing he wanted to end with you was the pretending. 

——————————————-

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[jazzy96scorpio]

The Weight of Longing

Description: Girl [You] gets majorly hooked on her Step dad Joel..Things get super awkward when he catches her...humping a pillow. Forbidden feelings, power plays, and a whole lot of messed-up tension follow.

Pairing: You / Step dad! Joel Miller

Warnings ⚠️: Adult Content, Minors do not interact, explicit sexual content, age gap (Sorry not sorry), dominance/submission, themes of infidelity, underage themes, oral sex (fem. rec), unprotected sex, first time sex (virgin!), SMUT.

Note: If you're easily shocked, maybe grab a pillow to hide behind (or, you know, use for other purposes). Just remember, this is all fiction 😉 Well, don't say I didn't warn you!

P.S. This story contains a significant age gap and some really filthy stuff. If that's not your thing feel free to skip this one. No judgment here!Now, go forth and get your fictional freak on!

Fic inspired by video of @daddyyss

The screen door slams behind you, the familiar whine of its spring echoing through the yard. Joel's out back, his broad shoulders hunched as he works, the shovel biting into the earth.

'Hey,' you say, your voice a little louder than intended. 'What are you doing?'

He straightens, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes, a shade of grey that always seem to hold a storm, flicker over you. 'Your mom wanted some flowers planted. She's at your grandma's. She'll be back tonight.'

'Oh.' You knew Grandma hadn't been feeling well. 'Is she okay?'

'She'll be fine.' His tone was clipped, dismissive. 'Where have you been?'

'The lake,' you replied, 'with some friends.'

'I hope you weren't fucking around and drinking,' he said, his voice hard. 'You know I don't approve of that shit. And your mom's gonna be pissed.'

'I didn't do anything bad,' you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

'Get me a beer,' he ordered, turning back to his digging. 'And go study or something.'

You bring him the beer, the cold bottle sweating in your hand. He takes it with a grunt, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. 'I'll order a pizza,' he says, his voice rough. 'For dinner.'

'Okay,' you manage, and retreat to your room, the image of his broad shoulders and the way his worn shirt stretched across his back burned into your mind.

You remembered the first time you saw him. Your mom had brought him home, a surprise, a man she'd been seeing. He was older, yes, but undeniably handsome. His huge hands, the way his worn t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, the rough, almost dangerous look in his brown eyes, the salt-and-pepper curls that framed his face – it was all so different from the boys you knew. A thrill, forbidden and exciting, had shot through you.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him. The way he moved, the sound of his voice, even his gruff criticisms – it all fueled a growing obsession. You wanted him, a raw, desperate need unlike anything you'd ever felt for any boy you'd kissed or dated.

Inside, you try to distract yourself, scrolling through your phone, but his presence fills the room, a phantom sensation. You can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, the way his voice rumbled when he spoke. A wave of heat washes over you, a restless energy that settles low in your belly. You find yourself thinking about him, about the way he moves, the strength in his arms.

The feeling intensifies, a raw, undeniable desire. You grab a pillow, burying it between your legs and begin to move, the friction a poor substitute for what you crave. Your breath hitches, your body arching, lost in a haze of imagined touches. You imagine his hands on you, his lips on your skin, his dick inside you..

Suddenly, the air shifts. A shadow falls across you. You freeze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You hadn't heard the knock. You hadn't heard the door open. Joel stands in the doorway, his expression a mask of anger.

Panic floods you. You scramble to lie down, pulling the blanket up to your chin, your face burning with shame and fear.

He asked, his voice low and dangerous, 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Nothing,' you stammer, your voice thick with tears.

His expression hardens. 'Don't lie to me. I saw what you were doing.' The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation.

A wave of shame washes over you, so intense it feels like a physical blow. Tears stream down your face, hot and stinging. You can't meet his eyes.

'I caught you again, you little slut,' he drawls. The words cut deep, a reminder of a previous moment he caught you.

Just like in the bathroom, a few weeks back, you think, the memory flashing through your mind: behind the door, the desperate, hurried touches, the sudden creak of the handle turning, his silhouette filling the doorway, his eyes cold and unforgiving. He had watched you then, too.

He steps closer, his presence filling the room, suffocating you. 'Why are you doing that, huh? Imagining some of your fuckboys?'"

You told him, your voice trembling, 'No, Joel. I'm not… I wasn't…' You couldn't bring yourself to say it, to admit the truth that burned in your chest. The thought of him, the forbidden desire, was a shameful secret you couldn't bear to reveal.

His expression darkened. 'Are you fucking around with some boys, huh?' he demanded, his voice rising.

You remained silent, tears streaming down your face.

'I'm gonna punish you for that behavior,' he said, his voice hard. He stepped closer to the bed, his shadow looming over you. With a swift movement, he yanked the blanket away, leaving you exposed. 'You need a lesson, lady. A lesson on how to behave in my house.'"

He told you to get up, his voice leaving no room for argument. He gripped your arm, his hands surprisingly strong, and pulled you onto his lap.

You were surprised, a flicker of fear mixing with a strange, undeniable thrill. His touch, though rough, sent a shiver down your spine.

He slapped your ass, the sharp sting echoing in the quiet room. 'I told you not to lie to me,' he growled.

'I'm sorry, Joel,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'Tell me the truth,' he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. 'Who were you imagining, little slut? You were so horny you were humping a pillow, huh?'

The words hung in the air, raw and humiliating. You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, in a rush, the truth spilled out. 'You, Joel…I want you…'

A low growl rumbled in his chest, followed by a harsh, almost triumphant laugh.

He says, a smirk playing on his lips, 'I know it, sweetheart. I've noticed the way you look at me.' He slaps your ass again, harder this time, the sting bringing tears to your eyes.

'You want Daddy's cock, don't you?' he asks, his voice low and suggestive.

You can only nod and hum in response, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

'Turn around,' he commands. As you turn, his right hand drifts down, settling on the damp fabric of your panties.

He gently rubs against your soaked pussy, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 'So wet for me, aren't you?' he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. 'Just thinking about me makes you leak like this.'

A moan escapes your lips, a sound you can't suppress. You arch your back, pressing yourself against his hand, craving more of his touch.

'Mmm, that's it,' he whispers, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh beneath the wet material. 'You're a dirty little thing, aren't you? So eager for Daddy's attention.'"

You whisper, your voice thick with desire, 'Yes, Daddy. I need you so bad… please…'

He kneels before you, a predatory smile playing on his lips. With a slow, deliberate movement, he removes your soaked panties, his eyes never leaving yours. 'Such a needy little thing,' he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement. 'Begging for it.'

He lowers his head, his breath hot against your swollen clit. His tongue darts out, licking the sensitive flesh, then swirling around your entrance. A moan escapes your lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He begins to suck harder, his mouth a warm, wet suction, pulling and teasing. 'That's it,' he growls against your core.

'Come for your Daddy,' he growls against your core. 'I wanna taste it.' He grips your breast, his thumb circling your nipple, as he continues to lick your clit, slowly slipping a finger inside you.

You’re overwhelmed, a wave of sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. No one has ever touched you like this.

He continues to stroke you with his fingers, then slips another one inside, stretching you, teasing you. “So tight,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking wet.”

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. Tears stream down your face, a mix of pleasure and raw emotion. You moan, gripping the sheets, your body arching beneath him. He swirls his tongue around your clit, and you shatter, your pussy walls clenching around his fingers, soaking him in your juices.

He pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. 'Mmm,so sweet babygirl.' he says, his eyes gleaming. 'You're such a good girl for your Daddy.'

He stands up, the sound of his belt buckle echoing in the room.

He unzipped his pants, and with a swift movement, pulled off his shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad and powerful, the muscles defined in the dim light. He exuded a raw strength that made you catch your breath.

He pulls down his pants and boxers, his erection springing free. He looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as he strokes his huge cock with his hand.

The thick shaft is already rock-hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. 'You want this, little slut, huh?' he growls. 'Let me hear it! Beg for it, you little whore!'

He leans closer, spreading your legs wider, and positions himself between them. He teases your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your slick lips. 'Tell me what you want,' he commands.

'I want you, Daddy,' you whisper, your voice thick with desire. 'Only you, please.'

'Has anyone fucked you before?' he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

'No, Daddy,' you breathe. 'I've been a good girl.'

A predatory smile spreads across his face. 'You're gonna be mine, baby girl,' he murmurs. He leans down and kisses you roughly, the force of the kiss sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He trails kisses down your neck, sucking on your breasts, teasing your nipples until they’re hard and aching.

He positions himself at your entrance, guiding his cock with his right hand. He slowly pushes the tip inside, the burning pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. 'I know, baby girl,' he whispers, his voice surprisingly gentle. 'Be good for Daddy.' He pulls back slightly. 'Let me in, sweetie. Daddy wants you so bad. Daddy's gonna make you feel so good.'

You nod, your body trembling. He cups your face in his hand and kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours. Then, with a swift, hard thrust, he pushes himself inside, stretching you, filling you completely. He’s so big, it hurts, a sharp, burning pain that makes you gasp. You shake a little, tears streaming down your face.

'I need to move,' he growls, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy wants to fuck this tight pussy.' He glances down at the junction of your bodies, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the blood and your juices coating his cock. “So fucking tight,” he murmurs. “So fucking good.”

He begins to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and force. “You like that, don’t you, baby girl?” he pants. “You like Daddy fucking you?” He grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. “Tell me you like it!” he commands. “Tell me you’re Daddy’s little whore!"

You told him, your voice a broken whisper, 'Yes, Daddy… I love it… I'm yours… Fuck…'

He began to thrust faster, his eyes fixed on your breasts, watching them bounce with each powerful stroke.

He wiped the tears from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. He leaned down and kissed you, his lips bruising and demanding. 'You take me so good,' he growled. 'Such a good girl. You belong to me.'

He pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper. 'Turn around,' he commanded. You obeyed, and he slapped your ass cheeks, the sting sending a jolt of heat through your body. 'Lift your ass for me, sweetheart' he said, his voice thick with lust. 'Daddy's gonna fuck you from behind. You're mine to use however I want.'

He entered you again, this time rougher, deeper. He grabbed your butt cheeks, squeezing them hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back, and whispered in your ear, 'From now on, you're mine, little slut. You'll be punished every time you try to touch yourself, or hump that pillow, baby girl. This is my pussy now. Daddy's gonna take care of it."

“You’re gonna scream my name, aren’t you?” he whispered harshly.

You told him 'Yes, Daddy. I'm yours to command.' Your body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. He began to fuck you harder, his thrusts powerful and relentless.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He felt your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him tight.

You came again, your juices soaking him, mixing with the pre-cum that still clung to his shaft. “Mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

He gave a few final, powerful thrusts, then groaned as he came inside you, his hot cum filling you completely. He glanced down at the junction of your bodies, watching as your mingled fluids dripped down your legs. “You’re so fucking mine,” he whispered, his voice thick with possessiveness.

“No one else will ever touch you like this. You’re my personal fucktoy darling."

He lay down on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He hugged you close, still buried deep inside you. “You’re my dirty little secret,” he murmured in your ear. “And Daddy’s gonna keep you safe.

"You’re never gonna forget this, are you?

You whispered a quiet "No, Daddy."

"You're branded, little slut.”

He pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Then he lay beside you, his arm draped possessively across your waist. “You’re mine, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want any other little boy touching you. Do you understand me?"

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m gonna be only yours.”

He leaned down and kissed you, a slow, deep kiss “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips. “You know, you’re… you’re the only one who can make me feel this way. You’re so fucking perfect, so sweet and dirty all at once, babygirl.”

He pulled the blanket over you. “I’m gonna prepare a bath for you,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You lay in bed, the sensations still lingering, a strange mix of pleasure and guilt. You’d gotten what you wanted. You’d finally had him.

After he finished preparing the bath, he returned and lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

The doorbell rang, a sudden, jarring sound. He looked surprised. “Pizza’s already here” he muttered. “Maybe that's your mom. Come downstairs after your bath.”

You nodded, and he left.

When you finally made your way downstairs, your legs aching and unsteady, you saw your mom. You tried to act normal, to keep your composure, but your body betrayed you. You could barely walk, the soreness a constant, throbbing reminder of what had just happened.

As you saw your mom, she immediately noticed something was off. She asked, her voice laced with concern, 'Are you alright?'

Joel watched you, taking a slow sip of his beer, his expression unreadable.

'I'm fine, Mom,' you said, trying to sound casual, 'just a little tired.' You quickly changed the subject. 'How's Grandma?'

'She'll be fine,' your mom replied.

'I'm hungry,' you said, grabbing a slice of pizza. 'I'm going to take this to my room. I need to study for my class tomorrow.'

She nodded, but her expression tightened. 'You could have at least made dinner,' she said, her voice sharp. 'It's easy to just order pizza.' She was always like this, quick to criticize.

She started to complain, her voice rising, 'You're so lazy. Always going out, always locked in that room.'

Suddenly, Joel spoke up, his voice low and firm, cutting through her rant. 'Maria, that's enough. Leave her be. She's tired.' He defended you.

You saw the opportunity, going back to your room, anger simmering beneath your skin. You could hear them arguing downstairs, Joel's voice a low rumble, your mother's a sharp, insistent whine. 'She needs to learn,' your mom's voice rose, 'She is not a child anymore.' Joel responds, 'Maybe you should try being a mother instead of a warden.'"

Mom snapped, her voice sharp and laced with resentment. 'Well, you're not her dad! She's my daughter, and she's going to listen to me!'

Joel, surprisingly, managed to calm her down, his voice low and soothing. After a while, he left the living room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Curled up in bed, you felt a wave of self-loathing wash over you. Useless. Worthless. It was the middle of the night, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being completely alone.

A soft knock startled you. It was Joel. He entered, holding a glass of water and a small pill. 'You need to take this, plan B.' he said, his voice gentle. 'I'll get you some birth control soon.'

He pulled you into a warm hug, his hand stroking your hair. He kissed you softly on the forehead. 'I'll take care of you,' he murmured. 'You're a good girl. Don't take your mother's words to heart.'

'She's right, though,' you whispered, your voice thick with tears.

'No, baby girl,' he said, his voice firm. 'You're great.' He paused, then added, 'I love you.' He hugged you tightly.

'I love you too,' you replied, your voice barely audible.

He leaned and kissed you knew more time, gently cupping your face with his hands "Good night babygirl, now rest..See you tomorrow."

"Good night Joel. Thank you." you whispered.

He left, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He loves you. The words echoed in your mind, a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. You couldn't believe what had just happened. One moment, you were humping a pillow, lost in a fantasy, and the next, he was here, in your room, confessing his love.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You were happy, undeniably so. The physical intimacy, the possessive way he’d claimed you, the whispered promises – it was intoxicating. But beneath the surface, a tremor of fear lingered. Was this real? Was this love, or something else entirely? The power dynamic, the way he’d taken control, the harsh words mixed with tender touches… it was confusing, unsettling. You felt like you were walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. You closed your eyes, the image of his face, his eyes dark and intense, burned into your mind. You were his, he’d made that clear. And a part of you, a dark, hidden part, reveled in the thought.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Tags: @lanaispunk @probablyreadinsmut @joelmillerpascal

Please like and leave a comment.❣️

Write me if you want part two 😉

[hyukalyptus]

covered in me — sub!kai x femdomme!reader

cw. it's kinda implied they're both idols that can't be "public," lots of marking with lipstick, pet names (love, baby, good boy), reader wears a dress, body writing (m. receiving), hair pulling, oral (m. and f. receiving), protected penetration, sex toys, light fem domme vibes, nipple play, chubby reader implied. note. i actually really love this one, guys. and i think you will too! this is for @silvergyus' valentine's day event! enjoy and please let me know what you think <3 wc. 4.3k

“I saw you staring at me all night,” Kai whispers in your ear. Have you ever seen anyone look as sexy as he does right now? The way his chest presses against your back and traps you against the bathroom’s vanity feels better than a warm blanket that’s been pulled straight from the dryer. And you find yourself doing it again: staring at him, this time through the mirror while his hands glide from your shoulders and past your waist, drawing circles over your hips with his fingertips. 

Everything about him was—and still is—irresistible tonight. His charcoal grey suit. The wash of deep peach surrounding his eyes with the cutest rose blush on his cheeks. You were dying to run your fingers through his fluffy black hair that’s messy now that it’s the end of the day. But it was just as mesmerizing when it was perfectly styled at the beginning of the night. 

“I can’t stand ignoring you when you’re a few feet away, especially on Valentine’s Day…” You turn around in his arms, draping yours over his shoulders. “I want to scream to the world how in love I am with you,” you say, punctuating the sentence with a kiss. “How much you love me.” Kiss. Sighing, you lean closer to his neck, letting his cologne drift into your nostrils. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” Kiss. And at that, his hands are right where they belong, resting against the swell of your ass.

“I am yours, huh?” He chuckles.

“Yep,” you say matter-of-factly, but a pout forms on your lips. “But nobody knows,” you grumble. “I can’t do any of the things I wanna do to you…” 

“Like what?”

“Like,” you start, grazing your hands over his chest. “Run my fingers through your hair.” He hums at the feeling of your nails dragging across his scalp. “Hug you. Kiss you.” Then you do. When you pull away, the sight of your oxblood lipstick smudged against his lips makes your stomach do backflips. “Every eye in the room was on you. And I can tell what they want. They look at you and want you for their own,” you say. His groan sends shivers down your spine. “But you’re not theirs, are you?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says smugly. 

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you. I’m the only one who gets to…” you trail off, thinking of the millions of ways you make him feel good or the millions of ways he makes your toes curl. “You know what I really want?” A devastating smirk on his lips gives you permission to go further. You loosen his tie and pull it through his collar, letting it fall to the floor. With slow fingers, you unbutton his shirt, sliding your hands beneath the fabric, pushing it past his shoulders. The crisp white t-shirt beneath feels like a secret, like uncovering something softer, something just for you— shedding the skin of his public persona to reveal your angel in white. 

“What I really want…” you sigh. “I wanna cover you in hickeys and scratches and bite marks. I want to look at your body and see it covered in me knowing I did that to you because you are mine, and I can do what I want to things that belong to me,” you say. You move closer to him with every breath. “I want people to look at you and know you’re mine, that you’re so mine, they don’t stand a chance with you.” 

Then you catch his lips with yours, moving over them with a fire only he could ignite. He is everything to you right now—the air you breathe, the taste on your tongue, the strength you need while he’s making your knees this weak. But most of all, he’s yours. 

“But since I can’t cover you in hickeys and love bites…” you grin evilly, eyeing his smudged lips. “I suppose my lipstick will have to do.” You end that sentence with the softest kitten lick across his bottom lip. “It looks so pretty on you anyway.” 

Guiding him toward the bed, you push him gently and he lets his body fall to the mattress, resting his hands behind his head, like he’s saying do whatever you want to me. And there’s an overwhelming sense of trust that comes with it. You straddle him, tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt, gently kissing right above the waistband of his pants. Disappointed at the lack of lipstick left behind, you stand, digging through your purse. 

As you stride back to bed, you uncap your lipstick, placing it in one of his hands while the other squeezes the crease above your thigh. Your mouth falls open into a plush oval. He sits up, so close to your chest, and slowly drags the lipstick across your lips, painting them a red darker than your cabernet from earlier. Replacing the cap, he stores it for safekeeping atop the bedside table. 

Tugging his t-shirt again, you press your lips to his lower tummy before you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the imprint of your perfectly-shaped lips on his skin. Not even giving him the privilege of eye contact, you order him to take off his shirt and he obliges, his chest heaving needing more from you.

Humming against his stomach while you skate your nose across his skin, you ask, “Where else should I leave my mark?” He turns his head to the side, silently asking for neck kisses, unable to form a coherent sentence. You smile and press soft kisses against his skin, leaving behind lipstick marks rivaling a trail of love bites. 

Biting his earlobe between your top teeth and bottom lip, you tug, earning a gasp. You ask, “Are you mine, baby? Hm?” He nods. “Say it.”

“I’m yours—” the way his name falls from your lips sounds so desperate your head reels. “Only yours.”

“Right. Only mine,” you say. “In fact…” you trail off, reaching for your lipstick once again, opening it with a pop. Pressing your hand to his chest to keep him from moving, you twist the lipstick up and write your name in big letters across his chest, claiming him as yours. Glancing down at the writing, his fingertips brush over the letters, smudging it barely.

“Feels good to be yours,” he says. It isn’t playful, it isn’t indulgent, not submissive. It’s deeper. You trace over his collarbone with your thumb. 

“Yeah?”  

His eyes flick up to yours and without hesitation, he replies, “Yeah.”  

Maybe you should tease him for how soft he sounds, for how serious this just got, but you don’t. Instead, you press a kiss right over your name, feeling the way his heart hammers against your lips. It makes the heat rush through your body again. 

Back to the matter at hand, you suppose. You can get to the mushy gushy love confessions afterward when you’re laying on his chest all warm and cozy after an incredible orgasm. Trailing delicate kisses down his chest and tummy, you pause to skate your lips across the waistband of those sexy-as-fuck suit pants—a maddening barrier keeping you from everything you want. Your lipstick print is such a cute accessory to his dainty happy trail you’d so wish he’d let grow out. That’s his choice, you remind yourself. But that doesn’t mean you can’t grumble about it. And there’s no ignoring his hardening cock behind those thin layers of fabric. 

He whispers…something. You’re not quite sure and you’re not so sure he knows what he said either. A jumbled, pathetic whimper somewhere between love, please, fuck, and your name. You look up at him with the slyest smirk and nod. 

After tossing his dress pants to the side, all he’s left in are his boxers along with some red letters and splotches of lipstick. That last stitch of clothing doesn’t last long. While he takes those off, you’re suddenly aware of how many clothes you’re wearing. How could you have forgotten to get naked? And it’s like he read your mind. Standing up, he holds out his hand, gesturing for you to stand. He motions for you to turn around for him, letting his hands sweep all over your curves. His thumbs rub your tense shoulders, but only for a few seconds before finding their way to the zipper on the back of your dress. Tugging it down slowly, he lets it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric at your feet. 

Then you guide him to lay on his back again, straddling his thighs and kissing his pelvis, dragging your fingers everywhere except where he needs it most. Precum beads at his tip, crying for something to be wrapped around it. Anything—a hand, a mouth, a cunt, anything at all. 

Finally grasping his cock with your fingers, you gently tap your face with him, leaving kisses up and down his shaft. “This is mine too, right?” You ask. 

“Of course,” he breathes. Smug and satisfied, you pop the cap off your lipstick again and write mine right at the base of his cock where hair would be if he didn’t shave it yesterday. Swirling around his tip with your thumb, you use your other hand to sloppily freshen up your lipstick. Looking up through your eyelashes, you drag the tip of your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, finally sinking down on him, leaving a ring of lipstick at the base. Sloppy head movements, licks, sucks, slurps, simply obscene dick sucking leaves the messiest lipsticks marks that fade as you carry on. 

Your rhythm falters, not to tease, no, but because you’re too caught up in it. The weight of him on your tongue, the way his cock twitches with every sloppy drag of your lips, heat pooling between your legs. Your moan vibrates through his body, forcing his hips to jerk involuntarily.

Slow down, you tell yourself. But you can’t even listen to your own stupid advice. Your fingers dig into his muscular thighs, taking him deeper and messier, making you dizzier and dizzier. You don’t think you can go much longer without needing something more from him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Whines spill from both of your lips, moaning and whimpering from this alone. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice wrecked, hands hovering—like he wants to touch, to yank you by your arms and pin you down to fuck you, but wouldn’t dare interrupt this.

You release him with a pop, making him shudder from the loss. There’s evidence of you all over him—remnants of oxblood all over his pelvis and down his cock, and in the writing on his chest. You pepper his neck and shoulders with love and kisses before sitting up to drag your wet pussy over his cock, teasing him even more, which he didn’t think was possible. He whispers your name, begging…begging to let him inside.

Desperate as ever, he throws his head back, back arching, hands squeezing harshly where your thighs meet your ass. “Please…” he trails off, dragging his hands up and down your thick legs, never getting enough of the feeling of your body. “Need you so bad.”

“Oh?” You tease. He nods. “Just a little longer, baby—” you gasp, feeling the head of his cock brushing your clit as you grind against him. How long are you gonna last like this? You want to drag it out, to tease him, perhaps see how long it takes before tears stream down his face but you don’t think you’d last that long yourself. You drag your teeth across his stomach, playing with the thought of actually biting him this time and leaving a longer term mark. 

You let yourself give in just a tad, biting him as gently as possible and he gasps at the simple thought of a real mark—your teeth imprinted on his skin for days. And you sigh, dropping your forehead to his body, desperate to leave a real one. But you can’t.

“I know, love, I know,” he says, running a thumb across your brow bone. “But look,” he starts, lifting your face by your chin. “Look at me,” he repeats. “This is all you.” And fuck, your thoughts sound like a broken record. The lipstick streaked across his skin claims him just as much as any other mark would. “All yours, remember?” Encouraging you to meet him again, he catches your lips with his, desperately, messily, aggressively kissing you over and over and over. 

And you’ve finally had enough. Reaching into the bedside table drawer, you search for a condom, all without ever leaving his body. It’s almost pavlovian how he reacts to the sight of it. He snatches it out of your fingers to rip it open with his teeth, spitting the corner of it out of his mouth. But he catches the glint in your eye and remembers just how much you love watching him do this. 

While you scoot down his thighs to give him access to himself, he cradles the back of your head, forcing you to watch him roll the condom down his cock. Eyes glazing over, you don’t think you’ve ever been more jealous of a hand. You can’t wait any longer. Reaching between you to guide him inside you, his tip teases your entrance before you clench around almost nothing. 

The first few inches alone are enough to send you over the edge. But when his hands push you lower, your legs tremble as much as your breaths. Sitting down fully, letting him fill you as much as possible, you both let out a simultaneous sigh. To adjust to him, you rock your hips back and forth and he throws his head back, gritting his teeth at the sheer amount of friction, the aching need. 

Your name plastered across his chest heaves up and down. “Fuck…” he whispers, like he can’t control his words. His hips roll and hit a spot inside you making your head reel. You can’t help but chuckle at the intensity of how you’re feeling. Then a second roll turns that chuckle into a moan. You bend to catch his lips with yours again, furiously making out before tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. And something snaps. 

You sit up quickly, bouncing on his cock as fast as your body will let you. Everything is charged with electricity, buzzes of pleasure running throughout your whole body. He’s gone quiet, but you know you’re making him feel good from the sheer amount of squirming. 

“Should I stop?” You ask. Horror falls over his face.

“N-no, why?” 

“I can’t hear you,” you say. He’s always been a little shy but you love hearing him—his moans, sighs, whimpers, everything is pure magic. He shakes his head, hands gripping your hips to prove you shouldn’t stop. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits, face flushed, eyes glazed, barely able to get that sentence out. You slow down just enough to tease, rolling your hips in a way that makes him gasp. 

“Just let me hear you.” Usually, all he needs is a little nudge. Finally, a strangled noise escapes his throat. You smile, pleased, and give him exactly what he needs—more, faster, deeper—until his restraint unravels completely. And when he finally breaks, when he moans loud and unabashed, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

Dropping your head back, you’re relieved at the break of the silence in the room. Sometimes you think he could make you come just from the noises he makes. Even if you’re doing all the physical work, he’s unknowingly doing the mental work for you. You lose yourself in his noises, in his touches—how he squeezes your tits clumsily, reaching for your hand to kiss your fingers. 

But when you almost double over from the pleasure, you catch yourself with your palms against his chest. At this angle, he ruts his hips up into you and he feels so goddamn good you think you may cry. Your shoulders scrunching at the pleasure of it all, you shudder and he finally gets the hint. 

“You wanna switch, love?” Before you can answer, he’s already helping you flip over to rest comfortably on your back. He stays soft, needy, watching you from above, entranced by the way you move beneath him, tits bouncing, face contouring, skin rippling with his thrusts.

Shoving himself inside you again, your eyes roll back, your body responding to his movements. You’re awestruck by the remnants of your name on his chest and mine on his pelvis but something’s missing now. While he’s still deep inside you, thrusting steadily, you reach for the lipstick and write boy on his right thigh, toy on his left, letting you read it perfectly from where you lay. 

Once you’ve discarded the lipstick to your bedside table, he grabs your wrist—not to stop you, but to hold it. His fingers tremble around yours as he slows his thrusts, his breath shaky as he looks down at the fresh words on his legs.  

“You okay?” you ask, rubbing soothing swipes over his thighs. 

He nods quickly, then pauses, swallowing hard. “I—I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admits, voice small, wrecked. Always looking to you, trusting you in such a  vulnerable state. 

You cup his face. “You don’t have to do anything,” you murmur. “Just feel me.”  

He exhales, like that was all he needed to hear, and then he melts. His forehead drops to your shoulder, arms wrapping around you as he starts moving again, slow, unsteady, like he’s letting himself fall apart one careful thrust at a time.  

You hold him through it, whispering soft praises in his ear, feeling the way his body shivers against yours. And when he finally moans again—needy, helpless, completely lost in you—it’s addicting.

“You’re being such a good boy,” you say. He whimpers again. “You’re my good boy, hm?” He nods, his forehead digging deeper into your neck, so close to losing control. And you debate with yourself for a moment—should you force him to make you come first? Or should you let him come first since he’s being so good? “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” he breathes. He’s always made sure you got off first but seeing him like this is too good. You wouldn’t dare stop this now. He’s got fingers for a reason. And a drawer full of toys when necessary. “Tell me.” You hum questioningly. He whines as if saying one more word would be too much for him to handle. But he finally musters up the strength. “Tell me I’m your good boy.” 

“Let me see you first.” He hesitantly sits up, leaving the warmth of your body. You’ll never get tired of this view. Broad shoulders and chest riddled with traces of you, your name still etched across his skin. It’s not the faintest of the four words yet, though. Mine written across his pelvis has withered down to a faint pink blotch. And boy toy is still fresh as blood. His fluffy hair barely sticks to his forehead, cheeks pink and puffy, hands trembling. His perfect pout is deliciously swollen. “Look at you…” you say, running your hands all over him. “You’re my good boy.” He smiles, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “Oh, you’re such a good boy—my good boy.” 

You reward him with so many sweet praises he doesn’t need to ask permission to come first—he knows. His brows knit together, and the sight alone sends a flutter through you. He’s unraveling, his words tumbling out in a mess of swears and your name, his hips stuttering as he loses control. You keep whispering to him, guiding him through it, your voice steady as he falls apart. A final shuddering thrust, a deep, satisfied sigh, and then—stillness. The warmth of it settles over both of you, leaving nothing but the sound of his heavy breaths and the way he feels inside you. 

Catching himself on his elbows as he falls forward, he peppers your face with kisses, humming sweet satisfied sounds against your skin. Then he kisses your lips as deep as he can, which isn’t much in his post-sex haze, but it’s perfect. 

Everything takes forever while you wait for him to come back to make you come—him carefully tugging his condom off, tying it in a knot, not bothering to walk the ten steps to the bathroom to throw it away before discarding it onto the floor somewhere, looking for your favorite toy in your bedside table before finding his way back on top of you. Everything is agony when you’re this needy. 

But his tongue and lips all over your neck are so nice, goosebumps prickle your skin despite the heat radiating off you. When he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth, you’re really in trouble. He’s barely doing anything and he’s already making you moan. You didn’t think you could get any wetter than when he was literally inside of you minutes ago. But you were wrong. 

“Thank you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with your pussy lips. You hum in question. “You heard me. God, you’re perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re perfect too,” you say light-heartedly. “Now make me come.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says playfully, although there’s an undeniable hint of submissiveness to it. 

But he doesn’t start off too quick, no. He trails kisses down your neck, making sure he shows your nipples lots of love, making them slick and wet and cold against the air. It feels utterly dirty how covered in his spit they are—his own filthy version of writing his name on your chest, claiming you as his. And he always, always shows extra love to your tummy. Kisses and nips and squeezes. 

When he reaches your pussy, he spreads your lips, admiring how wet and glistening and delicious it looks. Hell, it felt amazing no less than five minutes ago, you’ll undoubtedly taste just as good, like you always do. He’ll never tire of your taste. And he doesn’t wait. 

Licking a stripe up your pussy, he kisses your clit gently before flicking the pointed tip of his tongue over it. Over and over and over again. Your back arches. This arguably isn’t even the best part and he already has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

Holding your favorite toy in one hand, he teases your entrance for just a second, letting your wetness get it slick and smooth before he breaches you completely. Sure, he could use his fingers, but honestly, he’s skillful with this toy. 

He thrusts it in and out of your wet pussy, perfectly angling it to reach your favorite spot, your hips rolling involuntarily. Meanwhile, he hasn’t let up with his tongue on your clit. And everything feels so, so incredible, like he’s telling your body exactly how to feel and it’s obeying. And he used the exact right words, even if left unspoken. 

Your body sparks like a match, embers smoldering in every nook and cranny. Your bones burn like firewood, slow and steady, but your muscles churn like molten lava, wild and unpredictable. Kai lit your skin ablaze, and now the fire spreads, consuming everything in its path. You don’t fight it. You let it take you and melt you down to nothing but heat, want, and him.

It’s building, a white hot searing scorch until you’re about to erupt. “Kai—” you murmur, suddenly realizing neither of you have spoken for the last ten minutes. Of course, his mouth has been preoccupied and you’ve been simply laying there, enjoying yourself while he makes you feel good. 

He knows you’re close. He can feel it. Just a few more whispers of his name, a handful of breathless swears, your nails dragging across his scalp, likely leaving a hidden mark—and then you’re there.

Your orgasm crashes over you, flames igniting every nerve in your body. Hot waves of pleasure rush all over you as you arch off the mattress, his big hand holding you in place, ensuring you get every ounce of pleasure out of this orgasm as possible. And it’s incredible—his tongue and lips all over your pussy, the way he’s using your toy inside you, his hands on you, his fluffy hair entangled in your fingers. 

You feel him everywhere—in your fingertips, in your toes, in your chest and heart. Everything is overtaken by him and how he’s making you feel. 

When your vision finally clears up, you sigh, looking down at Kai smirking up at you. You shudder as he pulls out the toy, but you don’t feel empty. You never could feel that way around him. He doesn't move right away. Instead, he stays between your thighs, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs, too in love with your body to move away. 

Then he finally crawls up your body, brushes your eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, and kisses the tip of your nose. "You okay?" he murmurs. You nod, still catching your breath, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips ghost over your temple and cheek, before finally meeting your mouth in a slow, unhurried kiss.  

As he pulls back, his gaze roams over you, softer now, taking a mental picture to memorialize this moment, adding it to the hundreds of scrapbooks in his mind. 

“I love seeing you like that,” you admit with a whisper. Warmth blooms in your chest, different from before—deeper, more consuming. You exhale a quiet laugh, carding your fingers through his hair. “All to myself,” you murmur.

He hums in response, melting at your touch as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His arms tighten around you, his body heavy and warm as he holds you close, never wanting to let go. “And who else would I belong to?” he asks, voice muffled against your skin.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Absolutely no one.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

Duke, with a worried expression: I feel like the rest of you are not taking this seriously.

Dick, looking up from a busted up gameboy: What?

Duke: Bruce is getting mind controlled? He is committing crimes?

Jason, suddenly paying attention: Crimes you say?

Duke, scowling: He needs help, just imagine what he will be like afterwards.

Tim, ticking off on his fingers: Guilty, guilty, angry, heartbroken and horny.

Dick, gagging and looking at Tim with disgust: What the fudge Timmy? Why...that last one.

Tim, rolling his eyes: oh well excuse me but when was thr last time Bruce wasn't attracted to a criminal? Think about it? Like really think about it? B gets horny for crime.

Dick, looking like he is about to throw up: Oh I fricking hate you so much right now Tim, horrible, I hate that...but you are right.

Damian, bursting into the room, sword blooded and a manic grin on his face, as well as a black eye and a broken nose: Weaklings! Father is finally fighting me at his full strength! He finally sees that I am a better fighter than you all! He just came into my room and tried to stab me! I must call mother!

The collected bats:....

Dick, getting up from the couch: Yeah we probably should go handle that.

Jason, checking his bullets: I'll keep an eye out for Talia.

Duke, sighing as he sits down: I already fought him and got my ass beat, Call Staph and Cass if you need back up, I ain't dealing with that shit.

Tim, sniffing: Only call me if he breaks out the bat gun or tries to hook up with Harvey.

[teslasucks37]

can u write size kink/size difference with charlie where hes literally just sooo much bigger than reader :33

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), afab!Reader (No pronouns), Short!Reader, Dom!Charlie, Horny!Reader, PainfullyBig!Charlie

A/N: This took way longer than anticipated so sorry 😭😭😭

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Size Kink Hcs!!!

You’d been teased for you height your whole life.

Being 5 foot was not for the week.

Charlie was the only one who didn’t immediately point it out when you’d first met.

But sometimes you can feel his eyes on you, or when he’s standing super close you can feel his presence behind you.

You head barely reaches up to his chin.

He’s nearly an entire foot taller than you.

Like most people he has to look down when he talks to you, but it’s different when it’s him.

His smile is so kind, so caring.

He’s like a gentle giant to you.

You wanna climb him like a fucking tree.

He put his hand on your shoulder one time and you had to try not to moan at how large it was, covering practically your entire shoulder blade.

How dare he be so hot?

With his huge shoulders and ginormous arms…

It just wasn’t fair.

He’d never really given it much thought, the height of people, but ever since he met you, it was the only thing he could think about.

How small you were compared to him.

How easy it would be to toss you around.

One time for a video he did end up tossing you around.

You were fucking soaked after that shoot, and anyone with eyes could see his boner.

So you went up to him after, asking if he wanted to hang out at your place later.

That, of course, leads to the two of you fucking.

“Oh my goddd!” You cry out as he sinks inside you.

He’s so fucking big, the stretch is almost painful.

Charlie struggles to keep his composure, not wanting to hurt you, but needing so badly to pound you.

He manages to hold the line, waiting until you’re wiggling against him, begging him to move.

Then he fucks you.

He fucks you good.

Charlie’s speed is cruel, wild, ravishing, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop him.

He’s just too big.

“Char- lieee- Ooohh- hoooh~” You whimper, your voice being cut in half by his thrusts.

His grip shifts to your thighs, pressing them into your chest and folding you in half.

He was through being gentle.

And you definitely weren’t complaining.

His angle made him go deeper inside you, his tip practically punching your cervix with every plunge.

He can’t talk, he can’t even think.

All that’s in his mind is how good your tight walls feel around him.

And how you’re practically screaming his name.

Your joints burn at the strength his big fucking muscular arms are exerting on your legs, stretching them beyond their usual function.

His body leaning over you, encompassing you entirely, makes your head spin and your pussy clench.

All that matters is how deep he is inside you.

His hips slap against your thighs, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

His pelvis bumps against your clit, making you squirm and wiggle.

Then suddenly his grip moves from your thighs to your hips, stopping your movement entirely.

“Stop wiggling.” He grunts out, too lost in pleasure to say it nicely.

Then he uses that grip on your hips to pull you into him, hard and fast and deep.

And that makes you lose it.

“Oh! Charlie~ Cumming- Cumming~ Fuckkk!” You pant out as you squirt around his cock, the pressure actually pushing him out of your pussy.

He chuckles darkly, bringing his cock to rest on your stomach as the final squeezes of your orgasm drip out.

Glancing down, you see his cock, large and wet and throbbing.

You hadn’t noticed it before.

Just how big his cock was.

You didn’t really have the time.

But fuck, that was inside you?”

It was almost as wide as your wrists…

It nearly reached up to your belly button.

Fuck, you would be so destroyed tomorrow.

But you didn’t even care.

Charlie would take care of you.

He was nice like that.

But he isn’t being so nice now as he slips back inside you without warning,

“Oh, fuck yeah~” He groans, setting his brutal pace once again.

He hits that same sweet spot inside you that no one had ever reached before, and you struggle not to cum again.

Moans are practically being pushed out of your lungs by his cock.

Seeing his cock slam in and out of you is probably one of the highlights of his life.

He can feel how he was stretching you, reaching so deep that he physically couldn’t go past a certain point.

Knowing that he completely fills you up floods his senses with pride.

He wants to fill you up for real.

His desperation increases in his thrusts, you can see it on his face too.

Charlie’s brows are scrunched in concentration.

“Cum, Char~” You whimper out, gripping at his large arms.

A grin takes over his face as he plunges inside of you, deep as he can, making you yelp.

He groans out in relief, finally cumming inside that tight pussy.

What he’s been dreaming of doing for practically months.

His hips stutter, twitching as his cock empties itself inside you.

You can see it bulging slightly out of your stomach.

You feverishly press your fingertips to it, making Charlie whimper at the sensitivity.

A satisfied grin curls onto your lips, your fingers trailing down his biceps that are slick with sweat.

He pants above you, his arms trembling under your touch.

You let out a tiny giggle, as much as you can with his massive cock still pressing against your insides.

He slowly slides out of you at that.

You take a deep breath, feeling so empty, but so full as you feel his cum drip out of you.

Charlie lays down next to you on your bed, exhausted, as he pulls you close to him. “Are you okay? Did I… Go too hard?”

You chuckle. “Well, I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but it was totally worth it.”

He grins as you lean in and press a kiss on his lips.

He kisses you back, and you fall asleep together.

He would be wrecking your insides a lot more often.

[butterflydm]

WoT rewatch thoughts (1x5-1x08)

Still has spoilers through the s3 information that we have so far and book spoilers through a memory of light.

1x05

Both beginning and ending this episode on funeral rituals worked so well. Great structure.

Time skip for traveling! Mark a month off on the calender.

We can really see how Mat has deteriorated in the last month by the way he snaps at the kid who runs into him.

Love the shot of Dragonmount looming behind Tar Valon. They exist always with that reminder of what the Dragon did.

Mat has no appetite. Poor sad wet cat.

The betrayal of there being Two Beds in this inn room, lol. Why are we not respecting the classic fic tropes?

Rand reassuring Mat that he didn't kill that little girl or her family. Rand believing so hard in Mat's goodness maybe partly because he can see that Mat is having a difficult time seeing it in himself.

Even with Nynaeve's coat off, she's still half Green and half Yellow.

Moiraine trying so hard to mentor Nynaeve and she Does Not Want It.

Man, Perrin and Egwene had a much more cheerful journey than either of the other sets. But they get plenty of trauma right now, so they don't need to be jealous.

Once again, the show does such a good job showing us the strength in the Tuatha'an. And this thread will continue into Perrin's storyline in s3, with both Whitecloaks & Tuatha'an. They've done a solid job of tying Perrin to them both.

Loial shows up and immediately calls Rand an Aielman, lol. Poor Rand!

Oh, I see you, Fain!

Oof, people throwing food at Logain and mocking him. Baffled at the people who say the downsides of being a man who can channel weren't shown.

The promise scene between Mat & Rand is so good. Ultimate sad wet cat Mat. I really do love everything about this scene.

I really like our exploration of Stepin's utter and compete grief and emptiness after Kerene's death. How much the other Warders try to help him, how Nynaeve tries to help him but it isn't enough.

Love love what they did with the old rings being melted down (to create new).

Between what happens with the Whitecloaks here and then the Seanchan in s2, Egwene reacting by being as fiercely independent as possible makes all the sense in the world.

The Whitecloaks and Tower novices both wearing all white seems like it might create some emotional dissonance for Egwene, but I understand why the show didn't go there. That's just down to Jordan making too many groups of people wear white.

Oof, the Whitecloak stuff with Egwene & Perrin is hard to watch.

But our first hint of Perrin's golden eyes.

I note how Valda feels about all channelers similarly to how Liandrin feels about male channelers. And then we can get into the Seanchan's dehumanization of channelers as well.

Liandrin trying to bond more with Nynaeve. Has she been having ta'veren dreams? Ishy has had a month to try to figure out at least some of the places where his potential ta'veren have gone.

Our first reunion! It's always such a relief when any of them get to reunite. Man, Mat really does look on the verge of death.

Nynaeve can now join Rand & Mat in the Not Trusting Aes Sedai or Moiraine squad. Oops.

She tells Rand a story about Egwene to reassure him of Egwene's strength, never realizing that it's also the moment when Nynaeve likely channeled for the first time (to heal Egwene).

Perrin shares his deepest shame and secret with Egwene here - that he killed Laila by accident during the battle. So Perrin & Egwene's journey ends up being also very traumatic but the trauma was concentrated into the last day or so of the journey.

And just like was hinted at with the fire, Egwene & Perrin are finding their power at the same time. I wonder if this will happen again with their TAR training in s3? I really hope they run across each other in TAR. Let the characters stay connected!

Liandrin definitely got shot down by Moiraine at some time in the past.

Love the whole "shrine to ward off the Forsaken" thing. Great touch.

Siuan has been off in Caemlyn - was she talking to Elaida about Elayne, or was it about politics?

Moiraine: the White Tower's Woman of Mystery. Everyone wants to know what she's up to!

Alanna got such a glow-up in the show compared to the books. She's great here.

We get another nod to accepted poly relationships (amid the Green Ajah, at least).

Great conversation between Stepin & Lan. And a heartbreaking conclusion to Stepin's little mini-arc of grief and the Warder bond.

1x06

Little baby Siuan! ❤️ ❤️

Our first look at Tear as well.

Such a great way to introduce Siuan, considering they wouldn't have her for more than one episode this season.

And we learn in some places that it's dangerous for a woman to learn to channel - it's not only the Whitecloaks who assume that everyone who can channel is a Darkfriend.

Given that we know now (as of s2) that Moiraine & Siuan are older here than in the books, I wonder if that means her dad has already passed on.

Much like Egwene, Siuan is strongly associated with the water.

(This scene made me tear up too. I've cried three or four times today, I think)

Leane wearing light colors here vs the darker colors she wore in the s3 sneak peek to bash a Darkfriend's head in.

Another scene that gains so much depth on rewatch- knowing about Moiraine & Siuan's relationship & knowing about Liandrin being Black Ajah.

We just saw Stepin choose death in the previous emptiness of losing his bond, now Logain seeks and is refused death while suffering the emptiness of losing his connection to the One Power.

Everyone does still look good here, but the costumes definitely got a glow-up in s2 & again in s3.

The only main player in this scene not playing an elaborate game is Alanna. Siuan and Moiraine are pretending not to be in cahoots, Liandrin is pretending not to be Black Ajah - Liandrin trying to fracture the divides between the Ajahs, and also throwing Moiraine under the bus. A lot of Daes Dae'mar going on.

I also feel obligated to note that around this time frame is the jumping off point of my (now over 500k!) fic series: voice in the back of my head (archiveofourown.org/series/2688649). It is Cauthor-focused (Mat & Rand romance), though it does bring in the canon romances for Rand later on and we have some fun poly relationships going on, and it is currently spoiling through the twelfth book, but each fic in the series says how far that particular fic goes with regards to spoilers. The fic premise is: Liandrin found Rand & co instead of Moiraine finding them, and Rand is motivated enough to instinctively Travel himself, Mat, and Nynaeve to Tear because he wants to escape her.

This fic has been a lot of work and I am pretty proud of it so if you feel at all inclined to read an AU of the series that starts with the idea of "what if we gently slid Mat into Rand's romance situation?" and is a mix of show and book canon... give it a try. If you like it, please let me know your thoughts. <3

Anyway, Moiraine be spying on Rand & co., waiting for Nynaeve & Loial to leave to go talk to Rand & Mat.

Rand's protectiveness over Mat on this scene is really what threw my shipping switches on for them. He pulls a sword on Lan, despite knowing he had no chance against him!

"The world doesn't need a Dragon like me."

But Moiraine has figured out this is something else, not going mad from saidin, and Mat gets healed of the dagger's sickness.

So... was Rand using the One Power to help keep Mat from succumbing to the dagger's pull? Moiraine thinks that Mat shouldn't have been able to resist as long as he did.

We get some Tower politics, and we get the first hints of the Seanchan.

Moiraine is just encountering so much weirdness with these kids. Now there are wolves, she must be thinking to herself. Wolves!

The romance reveal scene! I like this change for several reasons- it's better romance than either gets in the books, it follows naturally from the NS relationship setup, and it adds drama for Moiraine, who did get a bump from mentor figure to being a protagonist.

It also gives the show a chance to show softer and warmer sides to both Moiraine & Siuan. Plus the nice play between duty & love bodes well for other romances.

I love how they reunite and only afterwards does Moiraine let Siuan know about the Dragon. Priorities!

And it makes so much sense that Moiraine has been doubting their prophecies after all this time on the road, while Siuan hasn't been out there with disappointment after disappointment.

This conversation also (unintentionally, given that it was a last-minute change) sets up Moiraine deciding she'd rather have the Reds potentially gentle the Dragon than risk Mat choosing to join the Shadow, because she thinks he's not strong enough to resist.

Ishy deliberately sent Siuan that dream. 😭

Liandrin knows too much. She definitely has been getting Ishy dreams.

Another reunion!

And the convo with Siuan is great. Nynaeve not bowing still cracks me up. Egwene going "wtf, nynaeve can channel? and she's stronger than I am?" with just her face is also hilarious.

Egwene & Nynaeve get a much kinder pep talk from Siuan than poor Rand gets in s2.

Moiraine's exiling is another great, emotional scene. And it also teaches us more about how the Oath Rod works, and sets some reasons in place for the Hall to be wary of Siuan. And sets up some precedents for the future.

And Moiraine trusting and giving more to Siuan than she was asked to give in the Oath - not just exile but obedience. That's gonna hurt a lot when we get to s2.

Even though she literally asked for it, it's obvious how hard it is on Moiraine to see her Sisters turn their backs on her.

But now we do (briefly) get our full Two Rivers reunion, and that is lovely. Hugs all around! Fond teasing! They love each other!

So we know that it wasn't actually the Dark One who was trapped at the Eye, so... it sounds like the knowledge of the location of the Dark One's prison is lost to time. It does make sense that Darkfriends would target that info specifically.

Moiraine not able to tell them that she trusts them, due to her Oaths, is a. so funny and b. makes it mean so much in s2 when she is willing and able to say that she trusts Rand (this is the real reason why it's difficult for me to get on board with The Ruse (TM) theory - because it feels like it would retroactively ruin that 2x07 moment between Moiraine & Rand).

Now that he's pretty sure Mat can't channel and isn't the Dragon, Rand knows deep down who it really is.

But then we lose Barney-Mat at the Waygate and I'm sad!

You can tell this very last scene was shot after the post-covid shutdown, because Maddy (Egwene) lost some roundness in her cheeks during those in-between months and it makes her eyes look a lot bigger.

I adore Donál's Mat but also miss Barney's. The feelings are both very present.

1x07

The Blood Snow! So epic. I love everything about this scene.

I will say, given that we have a stabbed pregnant Tigraine in the side here and it looks like we're getting a flashback to pregnant Morgase in s3, it does feel fairly likely that we will get pregnant Elayne as well, later on in the series. Tigraine gets stabbed the same way that Elayne is described as being stabbed in one of the super-late books (can't remember which, so I'll tag through AMoL) iirc.

Tigraine really did give every ounce of herself to her destiny, and I'm so glad the show version of her got a moment of kindness and compassion at the end.

Moiraine's cynicism about Mat vs Rand's rose-colored glasses about Mat: fight!

Nynaeve doing her job as Wisdom to keep all the kiddos together and make a promise to find Mat later.

"The one thing that we cannot afford is for the Dragon to turn to the Shadow."

Lan trying to cheer Nynaeve up is very sweet.

Egwene wants to sleep near Rand and he lets her this time (contrast to 1x02, when he pushed her away).

I like negging Machin Shin better than the version in the books, I admit it. It's more personal! Just relentlessly dunking on everyone's deepest fears.

Everyone looks so haunted. Poor kiddos.

I don't understand the people who don't understand the big fight. Everyone is so on edge from what they just went through! They are all overly emotional and vulnerable right now. The fight could have been MUCH uglier and still been valid tbh.

Uno! Congrats on your s2 upgrade to Hero of the Horn!

Another confession: I find this Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa much more interesting and memorable than the ones in the books. And I was kinda relieved that the show took the whole Five Great Captains thing off the table right away.

I also love their outfits.

Oh, hi, Fain! I suspect we'll get to see more of him in s3.

Min is so much better in the show than the books, omg. Just... on every level. She actually is jaded and world-weary.

"There is a man they must find. A boy, really."

Given that we saw Mat visibly recoil at hearing the Red Ajah mentioned in that s3 clip, I wonder if we're going to see him & Moiraine actually talk about it. I mean, it's in character for both of them to avoid that particular convo, so we will see!

Egwene's little quip at Rand's cooking is cute but I bet contributes to that feeling of Rand's that she doesn't see him as a man but as a boy.

I like how Min's visions were used here. And that she does what Moiraine blackmailed her into but holds back enough to protect what she knows would be the biggest secret (that Rand is the Dragon) because she doesn't feel like it's hers to reveal.

I really love how the shot with the three kids is framed to show the empty chair at the back to emphasis Mat's absence.

Anyway, I like the fight. Characters should be allowed to be messy and argue. Each of them has a perspective and is stubborn about that PoV.

Egwene is right that Moiraine can't lie, but the others are right that she can mislead or withhold.

And I love that the tipping point for the actual fight is Mat & his absence.

And then Nynaeve lobbing a bomb into the conversation as soon as it gets heated enough that she's getting uncomfortable. I mean, they aren't arguing about Mat anymore, at least?

Perrin's super-close "the only woman I've ever loved is my wife" and the hot five seconds that I shipped Perrin & Rand (but then Mat was mentioned in Rand's 1x08 fantasy world and I was right back to Cauthor lol).

I like that Lan had Malkieri friends alive in Fal Dara & I'm pretty stoked about the s3 Melindhra spoilers as well. Very cool to dive more into those relationships than we did in the books. Nynaeve getting an introduction to Lan's people & culture! After he got to know hers in 1x01! Very nice.

Jump-scare Lan does crack me up.

Anyway, good for Nynaeve and Lan for hooking up when they think there's a chance they might die in the morning.

Rand struggles with coming to terms with being the Dragon but Egwene thinks this is all about the big fight earlier. So they are having two different conversations right now.

Hey, in light of this convo- Rand is going to go to, well, Tar Valon anyway. Maybe not the White Tower itself. We'll see if he gets a doorway visit or not.

But this is Rand's big final burst of denial before he goes and talks to Min, confirming to himself that he's the Dragon, as he's tried not to believe that he is. So we've now had two instances of Randgwene sex used to delay or avoid an important conversation.

I am... very curious if the pattern continues in s3. Pretty sure they'll sleep together again, from what we've gotten in the trailers & such, but I am curious about the framing & context.

This montage of Rand accepting the truth about himself gives me chills.

Min's exhaustion here makes her so relatable.

I am so glad Tigraine had someone to hold her hand at the end. That she saw that her son would be taken care of.

"Rainbows and carnivals and three beautiful women." 😍

Elayne only three episodes away (2x02, right?), and Aviendha a little bit after that, but they are on their way! And this is our first hint about them.

1x08

3000 years ago, whoo!

Love their outfits.

Love the choice to have the AoL scenes in the Old Tongue.

LTT is perfect. Genuinely so good.

And the gut punch of seeing how technologically advanced the world used to be. It was a magitek utopia (or at least seemed that way to them).

I do wish that Rafe & co could have brought their original vision of this episode to life, because it is so devastating to go over all the things they lost (a principal actor! Their original Blight location! Their stunt team! Even more that I can't recall at the moment too I bet) but they did so much with what they had. I am so fucking impressed.

"I love him, Perrin." And then she thinks he died to save all of them. Yeah they do need to finish things off properly in the show.

Lan 100% thinks that going after Moiraine right now means his death, hence the sweet but flowery speech to Nynaeve here.

Ishy and Rand come face to face. I wonder who Ishy thought the Dragon was (he says he didn't expect it to be Rand). I love the reveal of Ishy's true face. And trying to touch Rand's face right away lol.

"Stubborn as ever, Lews."

The convo between Moiraine & Rand is interesting (all of them are) but partly because Moiraine doesn't actually say that she believed it was Egwene. I think she hoped it was Egwene but that's not quite the same. And Rand doesn't ever really think it was Egwene either, except maybe at the start, because we know he was worried it was Mat during that month of them journeying together.

Hey, the horrible bully from Moiraine's story! We're gonna meet her in s3. Because that story is about Elaida. She beat a novice with the One Power to force her to channel.

Min is very amusing in the show. I like her a lot. I really like that we get to go on an emotional journey along with Min about the downsides of having her viewings in s2, instead of it all happening before we show up in her life.

Again, really like the relationship between the siblings here - Lord Agelmar & Lady Amalisa. It's sweet.

"Let us hope we will buy the women and men of this world enough time to stand a fighting chance."

Rand recognizes the place where he locked Ishy up years ago. Love that we get to see that moment in s2.

Moiraine talking about the Tower's histories getting destroyed by Darkfriends. Very important note, I feel.

And Ishy springs his win-win trap. There was no actual way for Rand to win here, because he didn't know who he was fighting.

I've mentioned this before but I love that the show split up the battle into philosophical (Rand) vs physical (everyone else) because that's the Last Battle too. Rand's fight is a philosophical one and it always was. The Power is there to get him to where he needs to be to make that choice.

Our mention of Mat in Rand's temptation world, where Egwene is clearly being fondly exasperated but not truly annoyed. So, you know, like how Rand feels about Mat.

Ishy plays with his food, taunting and shielding Moiraine.

Perrin and Loial's friendship being a throughline for all three seasons, getting to know each other here, spending more time together in s2, and Loial going home with him in s3.

Rand struggling against a hollow perfect reality. Major, major foreshadowing for the endgame so I'm glad I already listed amol spoilers.

And Rand also needs to forcibly let go of Egwene and his dream of their life together in order to wake up from his encounter with Ishamael, something that Egwene doesn't get the opportunity to do, because the boyfriend she recently reunited with heroically died in order to save the world (to her understanding). So Rand and Egwene go into s2 (and presumably s3) with very different contexts about where their relationship left off.

You know, in retrospect, it's so appropriate that the Horn was being guarded by one of the Heroes.

Ishy is so smug here because he really does win no matter what. Tbh I feel like waking up Lanfear was his big mistake in s2. Because her agenda is different enough from his that they ended up conflicting, even though they share an LTT obsession.

That being said, even though this is a win-win for Ishy, what Rand learns here can/will help him win the Last Battle. So it works out in the long run.

Rand & Moiraine believe that the Last Battle is won, so she's willing to let him wander off to die in the wilderness if he wants... and then she kicks herself forever when she realizes how wrong she was. Like, it's Moiraine & Siuan's plan that fully releases Ishy. They thought they could do an endrun around the prophecies (which Moiraine has to be fully aware that Rand has not accomplished!).

As Moiraine might say "the arrogance".

Love the setup here at the end by Fain.

"Rand may be the Dragon but all five of you have a part to play."

And Moiraine. "This wasn't the Last Battle. I fear it was the first."

And our great intro to the Seanchan and how wildly different they are to anything we've already seen.

Tomorrow, I'll start rewatching s2 and see how far I get!

[notdysfunk]

aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh i love all the wiiiiiiiings! they're so preeeeettty!!! And Y/N's little wing ears are just *chef's kiss* perfecto

so, like, are wings just used for transportation or have people found other uses for them (think fashion shows or strength contests or races)? would some people dye/style their wings (especially if they aren't big/strong enough to fly with so might as well)?

cause I love thinking about the little things you can do with wings, like Y/N using the wings as a scarf/mask when it's cold, or hiding their face when they're blushing, or flapping them when they're excited/to cool themselves down in the summer, or when it's really cold so Sun just wraps himself up in all his fluffy wings (or wraps someone else up with him, wing hugs anybody?)

sorry for rambling, just wanted to let you know that i love your au and will definitely be thinking about it ALOT!

HII!!! AAA THANK YOU SOO, SO MUCH!! I'm so glad my silly winged dca au will have your brain running for a while HEHE I got super excited to answer this one, I loved so many of your ideas so I doodled a BUNCH of them!!

As for your first question, yes!! I never thought about it before, but they absolutely would open to painting wings or styling them (adding accessories to them somehow), especially those who can't fly with their wings! (i.e. y/ns ear wings)!! AND they definitely do have fairs with races and instead of arm wrestling it's probably wing wrestling LOL!! I also imagine some people could definitely incorporate their wings into fashion, such as tucking wings into a dress or sumn!! :O Speaking of Fairs, I imagine there are fairs or festivals in the town, where showing up with bedazzled wings is very common! Of course, anyone can paint their wings any day- but I imagine it was harder to convince Moon to let you paint his wings... until you brought up the Lunar Eclipse fair happening in town tonight... (or any fair hehe) 🎨🌙 Since Sun has so much wing surface-area, you can KIND OF paint a whole scene on his wings if you wanted to. He loves it!! 🎨 AND YESS!! The MC is able to use their head wings to emote!! Such as flapping them when happy, or covering their face when it's cold, OR when they're flustered!!!! Hehehe 💞

[savvymantis]

Heatwave Romantic Headcanons

He's rough around the edges, caught up in keeping a tough guy act, but he does care. It's easier to get him to relax in private, though, since he's not too keen for the others to think he's soft on you. He is, but they don't need to have evidence of it.

It can be hard to find a moment to yourselves, especially before Griffith Rock learns of the Rescue Bots' true identities. Still, sometimes the base is left empty, or sometimes there's a spot on a hill he finds and drives you to when things are quiet. Heatwave's not the best with words, so sometimes it sounds like he's just complaining and using you as a stress toy to hug. But you can hear what's not said, how every "They never stop bothering me" translates into "I never get to spend time with you." With time, he gets better at being more direct, but he still complains that he's so busy and there's never time for cuddles.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not the end of the world for Heatwave, but he does enjoy having you lying on him or against him. Your touch is soothing, and it eases the protective instincts that flare up whenever he sees you. You can't get hurt if he's right beside you, there and ready to sweep you away from any danger. For this reason, he also keeps a servo on you, cradling your waist or tracing symbols on your back. If you focus, and know Cybertronian, you'll be able to tell he's writing "soft" or "spark" over and over again

If you're human, cultural differences can be a cause of friction. Heatwave doesn't understand why humans act the way they do sometimes, and he gets frustrated easily. Luckily for you, Cody has taught you the way of circumventing said frustrating. Really, all it takes is a calm explanation, and Heatwave will try to wrap his head around it, for your sake. It probably still confuses him, but given time, he'll see what you mean. And if you're ever confused about his own little habits, he tries to extend the same courtesy. He gets pretty relaxed when he talks about Cybertron and the traditions he takes part in, or the phrases he uses. It's nice to hear him talk so fondly about it.

Nicknames come and go with Heatwave. He usually sticks with the simple ones, sweetspark and bitlet if you're particularly short, or at least shorter than him. He'll pick up on some human nicknames too, once he's seen other couples use them. Again, they're simple, like hon or babe, because again, tough guy image.

He likes to show off for you. He's the leader of the Rescue Bots, and considers himself one of the strongest of the group (besides Boulder, but he's a wrecker, so it doesn't really count). He wasn't lobbing champ for nothing, you know? Heatwave tries not to showboat when he's working, unless it's a more simple job. He'll lift fallen trees or concrete debris above his head, and if you swoon (pretending or not), he gets pretty chuffed. It makes him proud that you think he's strong and capable, makes him feel more assured that you feel safe and protected by him. You finding his strength attractive is just a fun bonus, one he teases you about sometimes by manhandling you over his shoulder just to hear you squeal and fluster.

Heatwave shows love through teasing, so it's something you'll need to get used to. He's fun to banter with, though, if you know how to throw it back at him. If he cracks a sarcastic line, poke at his ego, and watch him stammer a moment before he puts his focus into arguing with you to prove you wrong. It's all lighthearted, even if he sounds a bit too serious sometimes. You'll know because he always pulls you into a gentle noogie whenever you seem to be winning the playful argument.

Heatwave also has a love for seeing you flustered. Despite his aversion to PDA, he has been known to sweep you off your feet at the drop of a hat, just to laugh when you blush and try to scold him for startling you. Once kisses become regular for you both, he'll surprise you with those too, sweeping you into a dip for a hearty smooch, just to smirk at your speechlessness. The further along into your relationship you get, the more common these surprises become, and the more used to them the others get. They just roll their eyes at you both.