#like that waistcoat I shared about before

[amypihcs]

I took the liberty of writing something for this beautiful art - i have a weakness for retired them! Hope you like it!

How I still love you…

Dr Watson smiled as he sat up once more on the sand.

Holmes was still swimming like the dolphin Watson at time suspected him to be and the Sun was beginning to warm the small beach just in the right way. Holmes would come out of the water in a bit, shivering like a wet kitten and ready to be wrapped up in a soft towel. The doctor sighed deeply, contentedly as he let the Sun warm his face, leaning back on his elbows as he felt the morning breeze play with his hair; that was, he thought, Holmes' deeper essence, the one that came out as he was swimming on an early autumn morning.

Holmes still had that fresh, mischievous grin, that open smile underlined by so many thin lines around his mouth and his eyes that was only for the two of them. He always grinned in that way that make him look 27 again when he dove underwater for the first time during his morning swim.

Seeing his husband approaching the shore again, the doctor stood up and prepared his towel.

He lost himself for a long moment admiring him climb to his feet and walk out of the water, delighted at how they had changed since when they had met, since when Holmes had come back home.

The constant tension he had had in the last years before Reichenbach and retained for a long while even after his return was gone, leaving space to a more relaxed but still explosive strength, clear even in his most languid moments. His long limbs and long, thin body were still strong and sinewy, but he was a bit less gaunt, the doctor was always happy to notice that counting his ribs wasn’t so easy as it has once been, before Switzerland, when they had been young, or right after he returned.

Holmes’ eyes twinkled with joy as the doctor wrapped him tight and he leaned down to kiss him.

“The water was delicious, mon chevalier, what were you staring at?” Smiled he.

“Not at what, to whom. And you know of course who I was admiring, dear Holmes. You are beautiful.”

“You are, it’s always such a tragedy when you don’t bathe with me. – Grinned Holmes, eyes twinkling with mischief and love. – But you always take such good care of me.” He purred.

Watson chuckled and hugged his partner tight, feeling his strength. “Making sure that you don’t freeze to death, my dearest love.”

Watson smiled and put another quick kiss on his Holmes’ lip as the detective wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist. “What are you thinking about, my dear?” Asked Holmes.

Watson smiled impishly. “I’m thinking that you’re getting my waistcoat wet, my dearest.” He joked, then he leaned up to kiss his lips again.

“Or perhaps – He continued as he bent to take another towel to rub his hair dry. – To how much I love you.” He smiled as the detective took the towel from his hands and bent to steal one more kiss from his lips.

The doctor laughed looking at his husband, still as enthusiastic, curious, joyful and still as lovely as he had looked so many years before at St Bart’s, when his first action upon seeing a young and wounded soldier had been to drag him behind a bench and show him the reagent he had just discovered.

And Watson’s love for him still had not ceased to grow deeper with every day that they shared.

the only person who is like you

[softmiso]

come together | spencer reid x reader

🦊 kinktober day 29: uniforms (ft. munch!spencer, spencer's work clothes, cumming in pants)

🥮 other details: nsfw/18+, ~1k words, fem!reader, spoiler free/not set in a particular season!

🍁 cross-posted on ao3

It was late, and Spencer still hadn’t come home. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but on this particular night you were feeling a bit…needy.

You lay on the couch as you waited for him, with some random show playing on the TV. Your mind wandered, however, to thoughts of Spencer at work. You recalled the outfit he was wearing when he left in the morning: off-white dress shirt, patterned tie, and matching brown slacks and waistcoat. Not to mention his gun tucked into its brown leather holster.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up tucked into bed.

“Spence?” You called out quietly, as you opened your eyes. As if on cue, he entered your shared bedroom, glass of water in hand.

He approached you, placing the water down on the nightstand. You noted how his sleeves were pushed up, and his hair was slightly dishevelled, as though he’d been running his hands through it.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to,” you replied with a tired smile. His expression mirrored your own.

“Yeah?” He questioned, “Any reason why?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you avoided his gaze. His hand found your chin, lifting it gently so you had to look at him. He gave you a look that you knew all too well; he knew what you were thinking, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Need you,” you spoke, after a beat. He hummed, thumb stroking your chin. “C’mere,” you whispered, “please.”

You moved the duvet aside, patting the empty space next to you on the bed. He took his gun out of the holster, placing it in the drawer of the bedside table. You noticed the way he removed it with such practiced ease.

He started to undress, loosening his tie, but you swatted his hand away as he went to take it off. He looked at you curiously, and you took the opportunity to grab the end of his tie, pulling him closer to you. When he was close enough, you captured his lips in a hungry kiss. Your lips moved together, and you tried to pull him into bed with you, before he separated from the kiss.

“Gonna let me take this off?” He asked, motioning to his still fully clothed form. Usually, you didn’t allow outside clothes in bed, but you didn’t care about that at the moment. You shook your head, biting your lip slightly. At that, realization crossed his face, and he climbed into bed next to you. “You like seeing me like this, huh?”

Instead of replying, you went back to kissing him, your hands finding themselves in his hair. As time went on, you grew needier, and your tongue slipped past his lips. Your tongues danced together, but when that wasn’t enough, you drew him closer until he was on top of you.

Your wrapped your legs around his hips, your own grinding up immediately just to feel something. You could feel his growing bulge, and he could feel the heat radiating from your core even through the layers of clothing. You inched your hand down, grabbing his length through his slacks, but he stopped you.

“Let me take care of you,” he spoke, lips still nearly connected to your own. You nodded against him.

Immediately, he started to trail kisses from your cheek to your neck, pausing every once in a while to suck and nibble on the supple skin. At the same time, his hands found the hem of your shirt. He halted his kisses to pull your top up and over your head, revealing your bare chest to him.

He resumed, lips now wrapping themselves around your nipple, and his hand tweaking deftly at the other. You moaned at his touch, hips bucking up once again, trying to chase some semblance of relief.

With that, Spencer let his lip travel down your body, until he reached the waistband of your sleep shorts. He looked up to you, eyes full of need. When you nodded, he removed your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, and promptly spread your folds with his fingers.

“So wet for me,” he spoke, before his lips latched onto your clit.

There was something about the juxtaposition between him, in his professional attire, and you, in your state of undress, that drove you wild. This was further cemented by your reaction to his lips on you.

“Fuck, Spence!” You cried out, and your hips immediately followed the sensation. He sucked and licked your bud with such precision, as though he had studied you inside and out.

He continued his ministrations, dipping down to lick at your entrance every now and then. He must have noticed the way you clenched around nothing, as he soon pushed a finger inside of you.

Your breaths started to come out in stutters and your hips moved erratically against Spencer’s mouth. When your hands flew to his hair, in an attempt to ground yourself, he knew you were close. You heard—and felt—him moan against you, sending you over the edge.

When you finally came back to earth, your eyes met Spencer’s from where his head was laid upon your thigh. His gaze was full of admiration, a look that had not once faltered in the years that you had been together.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, your hands playing idly with his soft locks. Then it dawned on you.

“Let me help you now,” you said, voice just loud enough for him to hear you.

He chuckled quietly. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Your brows furrowed, but then he got up slowly, revealing a wet patch in the front of his trousers.

“Oh, Spence,” you giggled, as he came to lay down next to you.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” He responded, “It’s a totally normal reaction, in fact—” You silenced him with a kiss.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[cherubfae]

𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔯𝔲𝔫𝔨! || {𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔩}

tags: gn!reader, ftm!reader for angie, fluff, comedy, established relationships

Alastor

He is quite amused by the whole ordeal, if not a touch worried for your wellbeing. You're utterly tiny, capable of sitting in the palm of his hand like a tiny doll. His claw gently nudges your cheek, tilting your chin up. Using his own magic proves to be futile. After several attempts he's still unable to change you back to your normal self. He isn't sure why his powers don't seem to be taking effect.

Alastor doesn't let anyone else touch or hold you. Legit will hold you in his hand above his head should Vaggie or Charlie try to get a better look at you.

"No, no, no," Alastor clicks his tongue. "I'm afraid I'm not comfortable in letting my dearest love be held by anyone but me. Surely, you understand." He gives you a little smile, his thumb gently stroking your head.

You aren't a little toy and the last thing he wants happening if Niffty mistaking you for a roach, so he prefers to have you sitting atop his shoulder, his head, or safely tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat with your tiny little head poking out to watch the world around you. As much as he finds you adorable and vulnerable in this state, he does prefer you as yourself. He'll probably head to Rosie first, he wants nothing to do with Lucifer. She always has her ear to the ground and he's certain he'll get you returned to normal soon.

Lucifer

Well, that's new. Lucifer is easily able to turn you back to yourself but he wants to have a little fun first. He lifts you up and presses little kisses all over your face, giggling to himself when you press your hands to his rosy cheeks.

"Can't help it, sweetheart! You're too cute!" He gently nuzzles your cheek, placing a loving kiss to the top of your head. He'll shapeshift himself into a mouse and pretend that you're a little fairy about to battle for Narnia.

When he finally turns you back, he is relieved. He much prefers you as your lovely self where you're able to snuggle into his side and hold you properly to his chest, sharing many kisses between you two.

Husk

Shit, this ain't good, but at least yer havin' fun, baby. Husk sighs, leaning his chin against his paws. His yellow eyes flick back and forth in amusement as you treat the bar counter like your own slip-and-slide, watching as you spin around on the shiny wood with a small squeak.

Husk catches you with his tail before you can slide off, lightly placing you back on your feet mirroring the grin you give him. "I'm glad you're having a good time but we gotta figure out how to turn ya back, hun." He leans back against the stool, hoping Charlie has found something or someone who may be able to offer some help.

Charlie, on queue, comes rushing down the stairs holding a light pink pearlescent vial in her hands. "Let's try this!" She stands triumphantly, proudly holding out the vial in her hands. "A drop or two on their head should bring them back to normal height. I have a feeling this will work, but as Plan B we can go to my Dad!" She beams.

Husk nods, giving you a tiny peck on top of your head that only serves to make Charlie coo. Placing you on the floor, Charlie uncaps the vial. A shimmery fuschia-purple liquid smelling of sweet berries oozes out and gently drops onto your head.

A whoosh of pink and yellow unfurls out and soon you're standing before them as mostly yourself. Your hair is now a dyed vibrant pink. Across the room, Alastor who is casually reading the newspaper, snaps his fingers and poof! Your hair is back to normal!

"You could've helped them this whole time?!" Husk hisses, fur bristling. Alastor hums, taking a sip of his black coffee, "Hmm no, just their hair. Good thing they're back in one piece, yes?" He grins. "Too bad you didn't play a little cat and mouse with them. That would have been a sight to behold!"

Angel Dust

As adorable as you are, Angel is fuckin panicking. He's not quite sure what to do and he's terrified of someone accidentally stepping on you. "Okay, baby, I've got ya, hang on!" Angel places you on his chest fluff, his hand holding you in place. Upon returning to his room, Angel begins to pace, wracking his brain for some sort of quick fix.

Depending on how long this magic lasts, Angel will 100% want to play dress up with you and have you try on cute outfits or perhaps make a cute little dollhouse for you. He's too scared of crushing you in his sleep so until this wears off, he doesn't want to risk anything happening to you. He's also worried about Niffty mistaking you for a bug, so when he's out and about, he keeps you close to him at all times. If he has to leave and can't take you with, he instructs Vaggie and Charlie to look after you.

"Do not let Niffty or the Egg Bois around them, got it?" His stern eyes are narrowed, making an expression that he's watching Sir Pentious. "Keep the Eggies in line."

Vox

What the fuck? He blinks, a jolt of electricity nearly short-circuiting himself. "Babe, what the fuck happened to you?" Vox scoops you into his hands, holding you to his chest. He's doing his best not to panic, convinced this is another one of Alastor's stupid fucking pranks. (Alastor has done absolutely nothing. However, Vox swears any inconvenience that happens to him is caused by Alastor's hands.)

Thankfully whatever has happened wasn't permanent. A tiny explosion of sparkles and a poof blue dust has the futuristic demon stumbling back, sighing when you're standing there at your normal height with a hand pressed to your head.

"Holy shit, what the fuck happened?" Vox presses, grasping your hand and pulling you into his lap. He's cupping your face between clawed hands checking for any sign of injury. "Was it Alastor?" You shake your head, coughing out some blue sparkly dust.

"Nah, got caught under some pollen demon's magic on my way to HQ." You grumble, leaning your head onto your boyfriend's shoulder. Vox sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ok, ok, well, you're back," he grumbles. "Don't do that to me again."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

So hey I told myself I wanted this quote embroidered on a jacket with flowers around it and

There is no backward flow of ideas any more than there is of rivers.

But those who do not want the future should think it over. In saying no to progress, it is not the future that they condemn, but themselves. They are giving themselves a melancholy disease; they are inoculating themselves with the past. There is only one way of refusing tomorrow, and that is to die.

— Les Misérables (FMA), 4.7.4

[grimalkenkid]

“The Kind of Person I Wanted Back Then”

(Had a burst of inspiration thanks to @havanillas art of Aventurine with a baby, so have this angsty-yet-hopeful Drabble! Enjoy?)

Aventurine knew his place; he was a tool for the Strategic Investment Department to deploy in situations deemed too risky or underhanded for any of the other Stonehearts. He was basically disposable, a pawn who was nevertheless useful if he could turn the tides at a pivotal moment. So it came as little surprise when Diamond sent him to once again “offer” the IPC’s aid to a particularly stubborn border planet that refused to ally with the Amber Lord against the Antimatter Legion.

Even from orbit, Aventurine saw the scorched craters where once-thriving cities stood, though the sight couldn’t hold a candle to the devastation he witnessed firsthand in his opinion. Of course, he would offer his sympathies or condolences when he met with their leader, but he wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. If Diamond thought a gentle touch would get through their thick skulls, then he would’ve sent Topaz.

The negotiation went about as well as expected. Their leader was a tough, old soldier, determined to maintain his people’s independence. However, Aventurine had seen enough of the crumbling masonry and hastily-set tents along the outskirts to sense the cracks in the man’s resolve.

“Give the IPC a controlling share in the planet’s geothermal energy market, and you’ll have the Preservation’s protection.” The words burned his tongue, bitter and acrid.

Like they should have protected the Avgin…

Aventurine left the meeting having given the leader a few offers to ponder and many possibilities to chew on. He was certain they’d come around and agree to the IPC’s terms. Eventually, everyone did.

There were few casinos still operating within the city, having lost most of their clientele to leisure activities less reliant on luck. A shame, Aventurine thought, and so he returned to the small space-port, texting Stelle to pester her into playing online poker. They were two hands deep when a laser-scorched shuttle made an abrupt landing nearby.

Dozens of injured civilians and soldiers rushed out. Aventurine hung back, keeping out of their way as they undoubtedly hurried to the nearest hospital or, more likely, a first aid kit. He tried not to think of how powerless he was right then. For all his wealth, he couldn’t actually protect anyone. Only the IPC could wield that kind of power, and he was little more than their puppet.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, Aventurine tried to turn his attention back to his game, but a lone figure lagging behind the rest of the refugees caught his gaze first. It was a small child, his awkward gait a sign that he had just barely learned to walk. He stumbled about aimlessly, his wide eyes watery and darting everywhere. Before a single thought formed in his head, Aventurine had already pocketed his phone and strode over to the confused child.

The instant the child saw Aventurine approaching him, he abandoned his wandering and stumbled as fast as his little legs could carry him towards the only adult who even seemed to notice him. Aventurine knelt down in front of the kid, his heart nearly stopping as he saw his eyes clearly, with the distinctly two-colored irises of a Sigonian.

“Where are your—?” Aventurine started, but his question would have to wait as the kid slammed into his chest, clawing at his waistcoat and sobbing as only a frightened child could.

Whatever questions Aventurine had could wait. He slowly brought his hands up and wrapped the poor kid in an awkward hug. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who offered comfort, shouldn’t be the one people trusted. Wasn’t supposed to be a person, just a tool, a pawn. And yet this kid was clinging to him like a lifeline. The least Aventurine could do was give him reassurance in return.

He patted the kid’s head, speaking softly until his tears dried and his breathing grew steady. Only then did Aventurine lift him into his arms, whispering a comforting lie as he returned to the city,

“Now, let’s go find your parents.”

Hours later, and Aventurine had the answer he’d known all along. The kid’s parents were dead, and no one would take him in. Of course they wouldn’t; why would anyone take in a Sigonian? To do so would be asking to invite a future thief and liar into one’s house.

But Aventurine was already a liar. A murder. A loser.

As the kid fell asleep in his arms, Aventurine returned to his ship, shutting himself away from the prying eyes of his subordinates. He sat down in the first chair he saw and finally let his own tears fall.

“I’ll take care of you,” he swore with all the kindness and tenderness that remained in his scarred heart. “I won’t leave you to fend for yourself. I’ll protect you… I promise.”

And he meant it.

[beiibeiii]

under your spell

vampire!arlecchino x f!reader wlw smut

cw : smut, reader gets drunk and passes out lol, dream manipulation, arlecchino eats you out like theres no tomorrow, reader gets dizzy from lack of blood, arle is a little possessive, kinda non-consensual..

halloween special, apart of @edgeray halloween event :)

guess whos back lol, sorry if my quality of writing has gone down a bit, i haven't written properly in a while, not really proofread

art creds: vyphorium on X

it was finally the night of halloween. students from all over the campus had been invited to this halloween party. you knew arlecchino was never fond of parties, and was usually busy anyways, but when you said you were going, suddenly her scehdule cleared and she was interested in going.

arlecchino and you both shared a dorm so you met up in front of the front door. arlecchino stands around a head taller than you, making you raise your head to look up at her, making eye contact. god, she looked so dangerous yet so, so enticing. she was 'dressed' as a vampire. wearing a beautiful white ruffle blouse with ruffled sleeves, a elegant black, patterned waistcoat, along with black slacks and leather boots. she wore a long, silver cross necklace, a pretty dark red rose on her chest with blood stained down her shirt.

"beautiful, as always." she mutters under her breath. you catch a glimpse of her sharp fangs, glimmering under the dim light. you feel her red, crossed pupils glow in the light as her eyes peer all over, up and down, your body. your dressed in a beautiful, backless, black lacey dress, ending halfway down your thighs. the black lace makes your skin slightly visible. god, the way your dress clung onto your body outlined your beautiful waist so perfectly. your wearing cute, fluffy black cat ears that sit on the top of your head along with ankle high boots and a black collar to complete the outfit.

you smile sweetly at her, feeling heat run up your cheeks.. you feel all shy and nervous at her remark. were you always so nervous around your own roommate? "you look so handsome." you compliment her sweetly. your mouth curls up into a cute smile. arlecchino returns the favour, smiling back at you, her fangs fully visible now. they looked so real, but you knew they were fake fangs though, right?

"lets get going then." she muses lowly. arlecchino walks you with a hand around your waist, protectively, to the dorm where the party had been set. she knocks on the door firmly. it isn't long before the door is opened up quickly. there were crowds of people, dressed up, everywhere. arlecchino's eyes scan over the surroundings, taking in the sight of the chaotic looking party. she doesnt seem enthusiastic about being here, at all. she would never admit it, but she just wanted to come to keep you close.

before you knew it, tartaglia spotted you two in the doorway, hauling you and arlecchino into the crowd of people immediately. the three of you meet up with signora and scaramouche. you are all around a small table, drinking and taking shots, having conversations and laughing together.

there were lots of eyes on you and arlecchino knew it. she could see how they'd look at your lips and your body. the way your dress looked on you wasn't helping too. fuck, arlecchino would rip their necks off right now if she could. you were just so, so oblivious to even notice them eye fucking you. occasionally arlecchino would glance at you in the corner of her eyes, keeping a close eye on you if you strayed too far.

you'd watch arlecchino skip out on vodka and beer, deciding to go for.. a dark red wine? almost like blood. it looked quite thick, it's lightly stain the glass and her lips too. a contrast to her pale skin, making her look more like an vampire. arlecchino didn't seem to be getting drunk at all, she did have high alcohol tolerance after all. ah.. your thinking too much about it, maybe it was the alcohol getting to your head.

tartaglia starts slurring out recent gossip on campus. how, for the past 2 weeks, it was rumoured that vampires going around, sucking students blood at night and leaving marks as evidence. signora scoffs, rolling her eyes, stating how it was probably their classmates pranking each other. arlecchino grimaces slightly at his words, her 'faux' fangs showing again. they looked so real.. but there was no way arlecchino was a vampire.. right?

it wasn't long before you started getting drunk, your mind started spinning and all sounds started getting distorted. your words would slur and you'd sway to the left and right in your seat. getting all mumbly and sloppy with your movements. arlecchino lets out a light, breathy sigh at your state, wrapping her arm around your hip, once more, firmly.

"do you think vampires are real too, arle..?" you lazily slur, your half lidded eyes gazing up into her piercing ones.

god, you were just adorable. the way blood rushed to your cheeks made arlecchino go absolutely crazy. she couldn't hold her temptations back and longer. the only thing running through her mind was imagining how your blood would taste, how it'd run down her lips and drip onto her tongue..

a eyebrow cocks up at your question. her eyes narrow lightly as she leans in closer to you. mumbling into your ear, so your intoxicated self could hear her over the music. "what makes you think vampires aren't real, my dear?" arlecchino's tone is dangerous, almost inviting. her fangs graze over your ear lightly. the faint sharpness makes flinch slightly, pulling away a little as you push her face away from you.

"stop trying to tease me.." you whine, your words slurring. arlecchino sits up properly, chuckling lowly to herself.

"i think you've had enough to drink for tonight, it's getting late. we should head back." arlecchino states, her sharp gaze on you. her words dripping with caution. she needed you, now. you sloppily nod at her words, saying goodbye to everyone as she hauls you out the crowded party, keeping you close to her, with a hint possessiveness.

the door to your dorms was opened, arlecchino helps you in, taking you into your room and setting you down on the bed. you'd already passed on the short walk down the hallway to your dorms. your hair was fanned out across the bed. your cheeks were lightly dusted red from the alcohol consumed. your eyelids were shut with your soft, plump lips slightly parted. you looked so peaceful. so.. so fucking vulnerable.

she couldn't hold back her desires any longer. arlecchino shuts the door, the room being thrown into darkness. She walks over to the bed, looking down at your limp body. her eyes fixated on your neck, her fangs aching and her mouth watering at the sight. itching to get a taste of your sweet, delicate blood.

her fangs sink into your skin, draining your blood. she savours the first few drops of blood that she's able to pull from you. her eyes flutter closed as she hums against your neck. god you tasted so good, never had she had such.. divine blood like this on her tongue. she feels your head turn to the side, letting out a small whimper in your sleep. you must be having a good dream, right? she pulls away momentarily, admiring her work.

her eyes stay fixed on your neck now as the blood slowly trickles from the wound. the wound allures her, as if its asking for more. she leans in for more, making sure she doesn't wake you up. her tongue laps up at the wound on the side of your neck. the feeling of being able to taste you again made her feel dizzy with ecstasy. you were just so blissfully unaware, it turned her on so much more. her tongue brushes against the wound to stop any of it from spilling out. giving it one last long lick as blood stains her lips. she lifts her head to kiss you on the lips passionately.

your soft lips meet her blood-stained ones. arlecchino could hear your little sleepy hums against her lips. at the same time, arlecchino enters your dreams, manipulating it like vampires do.

your eyes fluttered open.. you felt so dazed. was this a dream? was arlecchino kissing you..? your neck aches though, you feel warm liquid drip down to your collarbone. you felt so dizzy from the alcohol in your system and from blood being drained from your neck. you didn't have the energy to move, what was happening?

you feel as she pulls away from the kiss. tasting your bitter, metallic blood. she sees how dazed and dazed you looked, it drives her crazy. her eyebrows pinched together as she starts to take your dress off. her movements firm, but not rough. her gaze was sharp and alluring.

"stay still for me. let me take care of everything." arlecchino mutters lowly, sliding your dress over your head.

you feel as if something controlled your mind. you stay still as she asked, you didn't resist her at all. she unclasps your bra, sliding it off to the side, your beautiful tits on for show, just for her. she sucks in a breath, her blood stained fangs visible between her lips. arlecchino leaves your cat ears on, thinking you look more adorable and vulnerable all for her.

she grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing them lightly. she wondered how your tits would taste too. you let out a soft moan. your head whips to the side. god you were so overwhelmed, all your senses heightened right now. she continues to fondle with your tits as she mutters under her breath.

"fuck.. so pretty for me."

her other hand dips down into your underwear, feeling your slick pool up underneath. you were so wet already. arlecchino lightly rubs on your clit, testing your sensitivity. you let out a whimper at her actions, your eyes fluttering closed. she rubs more firmly as her other hand leaves your tit and pulls your panties down. they're thrown off somewhere on the floor as she lowers herself. you cunt slicked up all for her. she couldn't wait to just eat you up.

you feel so desperate, so dizzy with pleasure. your hands find her way to her head, burying your fingers in her soft hair.

"hurry.." you whisper out softly, peering down at her with your voice hoarse. arlecchino knows better than to keep you waiting. she spits on your cut, making your breath hitch, before diving in immediately. allowing you to tug on her hair.

her tongue fucks your dripping cunt, savouring your delicious slick. god your warm walls felt so good against her tongue. your eyes roll back in pleasure, fuck she was so good. you moan loudly, your vision blurring, out of overstimulation.

arlecchino's hands keep your thighs open. she laps at your cunt like its the last thing she'd eat. absolutely devouring you. you nudge her deeper into your pussy, her nose bumps at your clit every so often. she was so messy. arlecchino would suck and slurp loudly, the filthy noises filing the room up. she keeps eye contact with you throughout the whole way. she mumbles against your wet cunt, made vibrations, making your thighs close around her head.

arlecchino eats you out with more fervour, absolutely devouring you. you feel that coil in your stomach start to form. your tugs on her hair and your moans drive her on more than anything. you were just so sensitive. you could barely get your words out.

"c-close..! mm..mpff..!" you moan out loudly.

your orgasmed hard all over her face, squirted your cum on her face. your thighs wrapped around her face. she laps your essence up like a dog, before pulling away with a smirk, her chin dripping with your cum. you go limp, trying to catch your breath. your eyebrows are furrowed and your eyes are squeezed shut. you feel so dizzy, so fucking high. she leans into your neck. licking the blood that had run down from your wound. humming lowly in satisfaction. her hardness poking into your thigh.

"brace yourself.. i still need to savour your taste.."

[bindeds]

[ BITE ME. ] : 1k words » LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — lucifer sees you reading dracula by bram stoker and apparently he thinks it’s one of the best things that came out of giving humans free will. so he indulges in it.

#tags. biting (obviously), vampire teeth, replication of the seductive nature of vampires, suggestive, blood sucking, blood, explicit consent

a/n. thank you so much for 100 followers! i was supposed to disclose what i wanted to do for 100 followers but i promise i pack a lot of punches! stay tuned for that post bc i will be doing a LOT of things for you personally!

mlist. request something! :>

You were completely and utterly trapped in the jaws that belonged to Lucifer Morningstar as he lifted your chin. His eyes dropped to half-mast as your neck had been exposed to him, the clean skin glowed under the odd lighting of the hotel.

“What’s that you’re reading, honey?”

It’s an amazing thing, whatever it is he’s doing to you right now. Forget the heat rising to your cheeks. Forget that you’d complied to the fact that your neck is very vulnerable in the current state he held you in; your delightful book had still been sitting open and comfortable in your lap with your hand still holding onto either side so as not to lose where you left off. And Lucifer …

Well, he kneeled before you on the bed you shared with him, but he most certainly kept that small distance from your book instead of putting it away.

He leaned back a little, and you get a good view of his striped waistcoat and the way it curved around his … well endowed chest.

He grinned. “Dracula. I like that about you.”

“Dracula?” You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. “You like Dracula about me?”

“Oh but you must know that’s no laughing matter. Dracula … is one of the best things humans have ever done with their free will. Don’t even talk to me about vampires …”

Your breath hitched. His thumb froze where it hovered over your bottom lip.

“Vampires …” he repeated in a mutter, as if to think aloud.

You scrambled to hold up the book where you could see it, seeing as Lucifer still had your jaw held high and to the side. But the way you could barely keep the book from spilling from your hands had been more than enough to give you away. Fuck, in this pathetic state, you should have been the one kneeling.

Lucifer hovered just below your jaw. His lips parted, and you shut your eyes to embrace the sensory input of his touch completely; his breath fanned and spread across your skin like casting a thick fog over an abandoned island.

“Do you want to be bitten, my love?” His lips gave the faintest flicks against your skin as he spoke. “To be tasted?”

“Maybe,” you said, and it was nearly a sigh when the way he held you was a vice. Your blood vessels ached to be invaded, to be cut off course.

“Hmmm?” He dragged out the syllable like the tease he was. Then two ends like daggers poked you, threatening to tear through your surface.

They relented soon enough, gliding down instead of sinking into your skin. Your muscles blew ice cold at the lack of a threat.

“What about now?” Your name reverberated deep in his throat, the sound caressed your ear like the sweet thing you were in Lucifer’s hands.

You knew for a fact that this couldn’t have been real. Either that, or Lucifer had reformed his teeth just for this moment, in which case, the more you thought about it the more it didn’t seem all that surprising, the way he would do anything to get you flustered.

He pressed damp kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“I could do this aaall day, my doll,” Lucifer hummed lightly. He finally let your chin fall to its natural position, only for your eyes to fall on him. His face.

His teeth.

Sure enough, they had turned a completely straight row from cheek to cheek except for the two pointed canines—they were the only teeth that shone in the light.

“Luci …” you sighed, releasing a breath like it was a prayer.

And Lucifer was listening.

He drew closer to you, his lips inches from your own.

“Your fantasies are mine to fulfill,” Lucifer soothed, his hypnotic voice slithering to your head and plucking every coherent thought you had left. “Anything is yours for the asking, you just name it.”

“Please, bite me,” you found yourself pleading softly. You bit your lip, averting your gaze. That was sudden, even for you; your tongue flicked faster than your brain could react. “I—I need you to bite me.”

“Good girl,” Lucifer beamed as his grin returned to him, and he wasted no time as he ducked down to your neck and planted chaste kisses in a concentrated spot where your jugular sat with anticipation.

You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and his hand instinctively supported the side you tilted on. You allowed yourself to rest in the warmth as your shoulders eased up.

“This is going to hurt, but only for a split second,” Lucifer warned in a deep voice. “Then, I will give you nothing but pleasure.”

You gritted your teeth as lightning struck your neck and your hand tightened on his wrist. He stroked his thumb up and down your cheek, and it did well in easing the pain before the dam of rigid pain gave in and pleasure took its place—took all the places.

His tongue lapped at the wound, teeth still anchored in your neck as you felt a bit of yourself, your cells, blood, muscle strength seep out of you steadily. Your head began to spin, but your limbs fell weak at the sensation that had you on the precipice of something you couldn’t name.

Then, his teeth slipped out of your flesh as his tongue took care of the rest—the forked edges covering more ground as if to seal the wound.

“How was that?” Lucifer pulled back immediately, a bright smile incorporated his face as thin trails of blood dripped down to his chin.

Your head had still been knocking against the edges of your skull, but you managed a smile and maybe a bit of a lightheaded chuckle nonetheless. When you readjusted your legs on the bed, trouble swiped cold between your thighs. Oh, well. What were you expecting?

“Kiss me,” you said.

“Sorry?” He asked. “Honey, there’s still blood on my HMMPH—”

You engulfed him in a kiss as you pulled him by the neck and fell back against the bed. He tried to stabilize himself but it didn’t even take another minute more before both of your clothes were as good as trash on the floor.

[wriothesleysgf]

𖹭 ࣪ 𓈒 ⊹ cough syrup — wriothesley ₊ ◌ ۪ ࣪

ᝰ .ᐟ ꩜ fortress of meropide gets intense cold spells, but everything is bearable when you have a loving man to keep you warm. ⟢ [ f ! reader , sfw . ]

fall always came with a shift towards colder weather. the leaves began to brown and the sweet tunes of fontaine's songbirds were carried by gentle gales. then winter snuck up ever so unsuspectingly; divination experts and meteorologists alike began to predict snowfall, and the court's streets became bustling with those preparing for the upcoming holidays. you, however, were rarely privy to any of this.

such an infatuation with the lord of meropide meant that you spent a significant portion of your year in the ocean's depths. although you'd initially been terrified of the deep sea and what unknowns lurked there, wriothesley quelled your fears and managed to enlighten you as to the true beauty of life down here. whether it was watching the jellyfish float about or cheering on up and coming fighters in the pankration ring, the man truly managed to make you feel at home all the way down here.

the one thing that you'd never managed to get used to, however, was the damn cold. sure, you'd experienced the same transformation in weather when you were living in the overworld, but such a change was more intense down here. wriothesley was accustomed to it after all of his years in the fortress so it took him a second to realize why you opted to stay bundled up in the warm sheets of the bed that you shared.

"doll, is everything okay?" he asked, looking over at you as he picked out his shirt for the day— it would surprise some how many greyscale button ups he owned.

"mhm," you hummed, not wanting to worry the man before he headed off to deal with the necessary duties for the day. however, once he heard the small sneezes coming from you, he noticed what was most likely going on.

"you cold, baby?" he cooes, finding your small nod adorable. you were buried in the sheets at this point, with only your eyes peeking over the top of your pile of blankets.

wriothesley wasted not a moment in striding back over to you. he lifted the blankets and came directly to you, wrapping his large arms around your figure and pulling you into his broad chest. though many assume those with cryo visions tend to run on the chillier side, wriothesley's size and stature had him radiating a fair amount of heat at all times.

"you're freezing," he comments.

"'s so cold down here... i thought i'd get used to it but... clearly not."

he chuckles softly, walking back towards the bed. he shrugs off his coat and removes his boots before sitting down next to you. "come here, love," he pats his thighs.

you oblige, crawling into his lap. of course, the pile of blankets come with you. wriothesley finds it absolutely adorable. he fawned over you, ensuring that the blankets were positioned to perform at peak efficiency. he did debate running ti the infirmary to see if sigewinne had any hot water bottles that he could borrow, but couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone for a second.

"bless you, doll," he cooes as you sneeze once again. wriothesley reaches over to his waistcoat, retrieving a small hankerchief from his pocket. to be honest, it was rare that he needed to use it himself, rather keeping the object on him at all times should you ever require it. "why don't you try to sleep, sweetheart? i'm not going anywhere,"

"but what about-" you tried to protest, knowing he most likely has work that he needs to tend to.

however, before you could even finish, he cuts you off in one of the most caring tones that only few were privy to. "you're always my priority, princess. everything else can wait; i guess that's a perk of being the warden," he chuckles softly.

you decide to not protest, curling into wriothesley's lap and resting your head on him. it was quite easy to doze off with the combination of his hand against your hair and the lullaby of his heartbeat.

© kentofairy — please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my posts. this includes posting to wattpad / tiktok or other platforms.

[cobragardens]

CORRECTED & UPDATED Clothes + Equivocation = Romance: The Husbands in 1793 (Part 2)

From Part 1:

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what the husbands communicate to each other without using words or actions to do it, and how their clothing choices help them do that.

Hello. I'm here and I know you're in a spot of trouble. I like you.

It's you! I'm so happy you're here!

Sheen's voice and face when Aziraphale says Crowley's name in this moment makes me think that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley--the demon Crowley, not the angel who became Crowley--long before he consciously realizes it in 1941. The way Sheen has Aziraphale say Crowley's name is so soft.

The way you're he way you're lounging there and what you're wearing are uncomfortably sexy and also incredibly inappropriate for the Bastille at this moment in history. I suppose this is very on-brand for you.

Crowley: I listen when you talk about your interests and goals and keep track of your general whereabouts and pursuits.

Either they've spoken with each other recently or Crowley has been keeping tabs on Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn't upset that Crowley knows what he's been up to, which suggests the former, which in turn suggests they're in semi-regular (every few years or decades) contact at this point.

Also we've now got a general idea for when Aziraphale opens his bookshop.

Okay, brief tangent while I point out two things here.

One, my favorite thing about Aziraphale is that he is a sensualist. This is libertine behavior, y'all. He 'popped across the Channel' during the Reign of Terror because he wanted a specific carnal experience of a specific really lovely food.

And two, even when Aziraphale does weird, frivolous, silly, ill-advised things like this, things that clearly baffle Crowley...Crowley never makes fun of him. He never laughs at him. He always has this look of disbelief on his face, like Am I hearing this?--

--but Crowley never, not once, shuts Aziraphale down.

Until Aziraphale asks him to go back to Heaven.

Anyway. Back to our scene.

Aziraphale: I am unwilling to abandon my sartorial sensibilities even when it threatens my corporation, and I am insane, so I think this is reasonable. At least I'm not wearing a Slutty Monarchist outfit.

You're happy to see me, aren't you. You're relieved to see a demon. Go on, say it.

Tennant's delivery of this line cracks me up. It is so gloating and flirtatious and smarmy and indulgent of Aziraphale.

I am very happy to see you and lucky you're here, and I am willing to say so sincerely even though you are gloating about it.

And then there's the exchange where Crowley very carefully doesn't answer Aziraphale's question about why Crowley's in the area but also reassures him that he didn't cause the French Revolution and Aziraphale can still like him.

We can't speak openly about this. It's dangerous for me.

Message received: I won't mention what you did again. But I want to show my gratitude and spend time with you; is it safe for us to get lunch together?

Yes, but one of us is going to have to change so we can walk the streets of Paris without getting arrested again, and I'm the one doing the rescuing here so it's not going to be me. Your 'standards' will have to take the hit.

Fine, you've got me over a barrel. But hey, if I have to wear the silly hat anyway I might as well go all the way and wear your colors. Except not monarchist. And not slutty.

Oh, I don't know, I thought you looked pretty slutty too. (Meaning 2) I'm having this guy killed for touching you, btw. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. I see you are having the guy who assaulted you killed in a copy of the clothes he would have killed you for wearing. I wholeheartedly approve of this (Meaning 3), your sexiness in those clothes notwithstanding. The utter insouciance of Crowley's little sniff and the inquiry about what they'll have for lunch drive home hard that Crowley could not be more unbothered by Aziraphale having the man who tried to harm him beheaded.

What really tickles me about this line is not only that Crowley's joke has three distinct meanings, but that Meaning 1 (the meaning that exists without reference to Crowley's clothes) is the opposite of Meaning 3--Anybody wearing clothes like that deserves what they get (Meaning 1) versus It rocks how you just killed someone who tried to kill you for wearing those clothes (Meaning 3)--and yet because of the clothes he's wearing, both meanings come through with perfect clarity, dependent only on whether the listener(s) can see his clothing and know its significance. Aziraphale can, and does, so he receives Crowley's real meaning. Hell/Heaven can't, and don't, so they just hear Meaning 1.

And then we get Aziraphale's pleased little smile and look of tranquil interest as he watches Jean-Claude dragged off to his death. Its such an interesting facial expression for an angel watching a demon have someone killed having someone killed, isn't it?

Crowley has just told him they're probably being listened to by Hell. That means Aziraphale, Crowley, and the audience all know this is the most Aziraphale can safely react. Aziraphale can't show any overt approval of anything an agent of Hell does, because by definition anything a demon does is demonic and angels must be against That Sort of Thing. In light of the fact that Aziraphale is the one who causes Jean-Claude's death, I now argue that this responsibility not to react too positively to something the other side has done falls on Crowley, and that the reason he makes this joke is primarily to tell Aziraphale I see what you've just done, and I like it without identifying aloud what exactly has just happened for their presumed eavesdroppers because an angel arranging a human's murder is the sort of thing in which head offices might take undue interest.

The awareness that their conversation is not private means the audience and Aziraphale know they need to be watching and listening for multiple meanings from Crowley, and it also means the audience and Crowley know we need to be watching Aziraphale's face closely right now. And that little smile shows us that Aziraphale has received Meanings 2 and 3 of "he was asking for trouble."

Or, at minimum, Meaning 3; even if Aziraphale picks up on Meaning 2--You looked really sexy in your vintage clothes, you crazy weirdo--that's not a message he can afford to react to at all. But he does react to the other coded communication Crowley is sending when he says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" while dressed for trouble himself: I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. People who think your clothes give them the right to hurt you can go to Hell, and I am delighted you just sent one of them there.

You just had someone beheaded for assaulting me, I acknowledge and am pleased by your delight at my cleverness. and I could not be happier. Would you like to come enjoy one of my very favorite sensual pleasures with me?

***

EDIT: To be honest I like this reading better than my original, incorrect understanding of the story despite the fact that it is slightly less romantic, both because I love the idea of Crowley as a thirsty witness to Aziraphale quietly being a vengeful badass, because it gives us a glimpse of something important about Aziraphale's character that we don't get to see elsewhere: Aziraphale doesn't have a problem with killing per se.

We learn from the business with the Antichrist that, like Crowley, Az. can't bring himself to kill children. We learn from his perturbation at the Flood and the Crucifixion that he doesn't hold with killing innocents. He gave away his flaming sword. But this scene establishes that Aziraphale will actively cause someone's death if he feels they deserve it. That seems like an important character note for him that may become relevant in Season 3 (feathers crossed that it happens).

And I think there's something else in there too, something about how Aziraphale kills Jean-Claude, not with outright violence but with a trick. One party thinks he's in control of the situation; with a wave of his hand, suddenly a turnip has turned into an inkwell an executioner has turned into the condemned--or at least it seems that way long enough to get the job done. It's a bait-and-switch, like stage magic, and it slots right in to the motif in Good Omens of sleight-of-hand, of characters wearing other characters' appearances (for more on this, see fan theories re: Maggie is possessed), of supplying false meanings to an audience to disguise the true actions going on behind the scenes.

[runnning-outof-time]

Congrats on 350 followers, Madelyn @jomarch-wannabe ! I hope you like this little, fluffy story that I thought up almost immediately after reading the prompt I picked - it’s italicized in the story! I couldn’t help but add little touches of Jane Eyre into the moodboard as well. I hope I didn’t go too sappy on this one - Enjoy! 💕

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Thinkin’ ‘Bout Forever

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none…just a bunch of sappiness and maybe a bit of Tommy being ooc

Summary: (Y/N) asks Tommy a question that’s been burning in her brain for the longest time. She gets a rather surprising response.

“Do you think we’ll be in love forever?”

“What?” Tommy asked upon hearing (Y/N) speak out of nowhere. She spoke so suddenly that he wasn’t able to properly catch what she was saying. He turned away from the mirror, where he was adjusting the cufflinks of his shirt, and fixed his gaze on (Y/N), who was standing by the windows of their shared bedroom.

“You and I…do you think we’ll be in love forever?” she repeated herself, looking over at him once she was finished speaking.

Tommy let out a breath of a laugh, looking away from her the second she met his gaze. He glanced down at the floor, setting his hands on his hips as he cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that, love,” he told her, looking in her direction again.

“A simple yes or no would suffice,” she answered nonchalantly, tipping her chin up slightly as a smile played on her lips.

Tommy looked away again, licking his lips as he ran a hand down the back of his head. He then refound her gaze, holding it for a few moments before he began walking in her direction without a word. A glint of surprise shined in (Y/N)’s eyes as she watched him move, wondering what he’d do next.

He reached out and took hold of her waist, making her giggle as he pulled her in closer to his frame. She glanced down and grabbed onto the sides of the unbuttoned waistcoat he was wearing, wondering how he’d react if she went about buttoning it up. She didn’t have much time to wonder though, because in seconds, he reached up and gently took hold of her chin, tipping it upwards so that their eyes could meet again.

“Since when’ve you been thinkin’ ‘bout forever, eh?” he asked her, his one eyebrow rasied.

(Y/N) pursed her lips together as she tried her best not to let her feelings show through her features. Inside she was heating up quickly, unable to keep her cool under his close, intense gaze. There was something present in his eyes, something unreadable, but not entirely foreign. No, she’d seen it before…he always seemed to have that look when his eyes were fixed on her.

“Hmm?” he asked her when she didn’t respond.

“I just…I think about it sometimes,” she answered this time around, hoping that she didn’t sound like some kid who was sheepishly admitting that they’d did something wrong. Because this wasn’t something she’d done wrong.

“Yeah?” his single word response came out like a question. He’d always answer this way when he caught on to the fact that she wasn’t sharing all of her thoughts…like she wasn’t now.

“Yeah,” she responded, nodding as best should could with her chin trapped between his fingers, “don’t you ever think about forever?” she turned the question back on him, eyes shining again.

“Love, forever’s a long time…” he told her, watching to see how she’d react to the first part of his sentence. Her expression didn’t show anything, but he could feel her posture slump slightly in his hold. He searched her eyes for a moment before continuing, “but I can’t say that I haven’t thought about spending it with you.”

“Tommy,” she couldn’t help but breathe out when she heard the second half of his statement. He was usually a man of few words when it came to sappy or romantic situations, choosing instead to let his actions do the talking. But now that she’d heard him say this she was sure that she’d feel the desire to coax these sort of declarations out of him daily.

“You asked the question,” he reminded her, his thumb brushing against her chin, “I was just answerin’ it for you.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to make me want to go weak at the knees with your answer,” she defended herself, glancing down at his waistcoat as she fiddled with the buttons of it.

“What were you expecting?” he decided to ask, dropping his hand back to where his other sat on the swell of her hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of her dress as he awaited her response.

“I…I don’t know, but I can’t quite say that I was expecting that,” she sheepishly answered, definitely sounding like a child who’d done something wrong…although she still hadn’t done something wrong.

“Were you expecting some half-assed response? Eh?” he questioned, the slight pressure he placed on her hips making her look up at him again, “were you expecting me to dodge the question entirely?”

“Honestly…?” she trailed off with a question, her eyebrow raised as she held the pause for a few moments, trying to push back the grin that was threatening to surface as she noticed his look of anticipation. “Yes, I was expecting that,” she then told him, her smile breaking through as she saw the look of surprise that formed on his face.

“Well, love,” he started, trying to hold his composure as he let out a breath of a laugh, “I’ll say that it’s hard not to think of forever when I’ve got someone like you.” He expected her to laugh at his sappy statement. He expected her to want to break away and go and tell every and anybody that she could that Tommy Shelby’s cold front had been cracked, but she didn’t.

“I know what you mean,” she said instead, a soft smile forming on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “and that’s because I’ve got you.”

Tommy chuckled softly before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. She gasped against his lips, surprised by the sudden kiss, but she didn’t dare pull away. Letting go of the now properly fastened waistcoat, she brought her hands up to his cheeks, holding him close as the kiss deepened.

“I don’t know why you buttoned that,” he mumbled against her lips, referring to the waistcoat she’d finally abandoned.

“I know how to unbutton it just as well,” she told him, kissing him through a grin as his hold on her tightened. She couldn’t help but lean back against the window’s ledge, allowing him to slot his leg between hers as she propped herself up slightly.

“Forever, eh?” he asked, pulling back just enough to match his eyes to hers. He saw them brighten, and that alone was enough to bring a smile to his features.

“Forever,” she agreed, tugging on his jaw so that their lips could meet again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey so i was wondering if you had any Kid!Fics that weren’t Mpreg or omega verse more like there is a child and now Dean and Cas are taking care of the child together and fall in love in the process. I love your page thank you

Hey! Glad you're enjoying our blog🩵 Here are a few we could remember:

A Fine Romance by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 54k words)

Castiel was one of those Parents the other teachers referred to as a "hot mess" but Dean just thought he was hot, even if he did come off as kind of a dick sometimes. When an accident lands him in the ER Dean comes face to face with his biggest crush when he discovers Cas is his nurse. It seems like fate that he manages to strike up a friendship with the father of some of his favorite students. But with Castiel still bitter over the way his ex used him up and then left him with nothing but 3 young kids to raise on his own he may be guarding his heart with too much caution to let someone new in. Dean will have to find a way to thaw the ice around Cas' heart or risk letting his chance at happiness slip through his fingers.

Baby Whispering by EllenOfOz (Mature, 9k words)

When Castiel's babysitter falls through, he has no choice but to take Claire to class with him. But as it turns out, Dr. Winchester isn't so upset about a disruption to his class.

life as we know it by yolock (Explicit, 92k words)

The first time Dean and Castiel ever agree on something happens when when their shared best friend Kelly asks them to be the godparents for her baby. Being a godparent is mostly babysitting occasionally and buying gifts on birthdays, but then Kelly dies on a car accident, leaving her three year old son Jack with no one but his godparents to take care of him. Despite not liking each other at all, the two men take the responsibility left for them on paper, and find themselves on a situation neither of them had prepared for, co-parenting a three year old. As they learn to take care of a toddler together, they learn a lot about themselves and about each other. It's definitely not an easy ride, but it eventually leads to something neither of them saw coming: a family.

let's take a drive by sobsicles (Explicit, 121k words)

Dean takes a really, really long drive to kick fear in the ass. It might just be the best thing he ever decides to do. ~~~ The seat squeaks, and Dean follows the sound, his gaze trailing down. There—where Jack sat moments ago—is a much tinier version of him. He looks mostly the same, just...smaller and more dimply and cuter, if that's possible. His clothes have shrunk to fit him, so he's casually sitting in a t-shirt, jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes. He swings his feet from side-to-side over the edge of Baby's seat the same way Sam used to in the back, and he stares up at Dean with clear eyes.  "Oh," Dean blurts out, eyes bulging, "Cas is going to fucking kill me." 

Light Me Up by tricia_16 (Explicit, 195k words)

Five years after participating in a life-changing threesome with his then-girlfriend and her friend Cas, Dean's single, comfortably bisexual, and has everything he's ever wanted except for that special someone to share his life with. When tragedy strikes, he and Cas are reunited in an unexpected way, and a split-second decision entangles their lives in ways neither of them could have predicted…

Surprises by TessAlyn (Explicit, 32k words)

Castiel and Dean don't have much in common. Dean plays football; Cas watches nature films. Dean wears jeans and flannel; Cas prefers button-ups and waistcoats. Yet somehow, they become friends. And when Cas' brother suddenly leaves an unexpected surprise on their doorstep, the strength of their friendship, and what they mean to each other, is tested like never before.

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (Explicit, 174k words)

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

The guy next door by Castielific (Explicit, 61k words)

When Dean Smith quit his job at Sandover, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He definitely didn't plan for his hippie neighbor and his four years old kid to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself. The neighbors to friends to lovers fic you never asked for, along with some cute baby!Jack

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 166k words)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

We Are by lotrspnfangirl (Explicit, 50k words)

When Dean broke things off with Castiel, right after graduation, he hadn’t anticipated the long term effect it would have. He’d done this, he ruined things, and he deserved to be punished. Despite trying to move on, he found himself at the bottom of a bottle more often than not. When Lisa took their son, Ben, away - well, he had nothing to keep him going. Castiel packed his broken heart across the country, swept up with a woman who only loved him for what he could give and another who treated his friendship as gold. When Kelly left him, leaving him broken once more, he threw himself into raising his son, Jack, and letting him know how loved he was. When a broken teenager came into his life, he absorbed Claire into his family and took a chance, moving back home to the small town life, for a better chance for them all.

Also, the Dadstiel Bang starts posting on August 26th, so you might find more fics there. And we also have a "as parents" tag that might interest you.

[j-jinxee]

FIRST TIME ☆

TYPE - Lucifer x Reader

WARNINGS - service top Lucifer, p in v, petnames, swearing, daddy kink, breeding kink if you squint, I think that's all of them??

----------------------------------------------------

"Really?" Lucifer looked up at you like he had just fallen in love all over again. "You really want me to be your first?" You've never had sex with anyone in hell, even in your human life it only happened maybe 3 times. You've explained to your friends how most people just never interested you enough to want to go that far. To put it simply, you were never one for a cheap lay, but Lucifer had stolen your heart years ago.

Of course you had thought about it plenty times before, but you always second guessed yourself with this stuff, so you brushed it aside and waited for the right time. Little did you know, the right time was never when you expected it. It was late, around 2am, no light entered your shared bedroom apart from the dim glow of the red sky. You and Luci were next to one another in bed, quietly talking about various subjects, rarely anything important, you just liked listening to eachother. You honestly couldn't recall how you got on the topic of first times, but here you were.

"Well I'd obviously want you to be my first in Hell Luci" you told him while smiling sweetly.

"Really?" He gazed up at you with such love.

"Of course, who else would it be?" You questioned, giggling at how honoured he felt, even though you two had been together for roughly 2 years now.

"You really want me to be your first?" He couldn't hide his smile, you could hear the sheer amount of adoration in his voice.

"Yes baby, why wouldn't I?" You two never broke eye contact while starting to sit up.

"I don't know I just- I'm glad it's me" The highlights in his eyes were heart shaped, and your hands stayed clasped together as he shifted to fully face you.

"I'm so lucky" He said, barely a whisper as he captured your lips with his. He was now situated ontop of you, his left hand slowly went down from your hip to your thigh, while yours rested on his jawline.

You let yourself fall into the moment, quietly moaning into the kiss, and feeling him smile against your lips. His right hand wandered underneath your baggy shirt, playing with the lining of your black lace bra. He broke the kiss for a moment, looking you in the eyes for permission, you gave him a slight nod before connecting your lips again.

He unclipped your bra with ease, even if he used sorcery, it was still hot. Your hands glided down his chest to unbutton his waistcoat, while his made feather light friction to your folds. You still had your shorts on, but they were thin, and Lucifer could already feel everything through them.

He didn't want to separate your lips again so soon, so with a snap of his fingers, your shirt and shorts vanished off your body. Feeling the cool air hit your sensitive bud, before the sensation being replaced with Lucifer's fingers. "Let me know if anything hurts, ok baby?" He looked up at you through half lidded eyes, eyes that were full of nothing but lust.

He carefully dragged your body downwards so you were fully lying down, god he looked so pretty above you like this. His fingers slowly glided up and down your slit, the pace making you squirm, but you didn't know what to say. Lucifer could see the effect he had on you, "shh, don't worry darling, I'll make you feel good" his tongue immediately entering your mouth as his fingers brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Your mind was already fogged, and he wasn't even inside you yet. Your hands raked through his hair as the coil inside you got tighter and tighter. The intensity of the moment had you sweating already, and this was only his fingers. Before you knew it, the coil snapped and left you moaning into his mouth while clenching around nothing.

Lucifer worked you through the high gently, calming you down by kissing your neck and collarbone. "Now baby, I don't want to overwork you..." he spoke, "I know I can hold out, I'm just not sure you can." His voice sent chills down your spine, making you smile. You swear his eyes were glowing red at this point, not because of anger like most people saw, no. This look was only to be seen by you.

"Please Luci, I need you now- please"

"Ok baby, just- please let me know if anything hurts" he was so loving, wanting to give you nothing but pleasure.

His boxers already had a wet patch from all the pre leaking out of his tip, you inched them off his hips and started palming his length. "fffuck babe- be careful" he teased before positioning himself at your entrance. His hands holding your waist for leverage as he slowly pushed into you, watching your tight little slit swallow his cock made his pupils dilate more than you've ever seen.

You squirmed at the feeling of being stretched, but you knew he would stop if he saw you show any signs of discomfort, so you just awaited the pleasure. He shifted his hands to clasp yours instead, holding your hands down by either side of your head. Giving you time to adjust, he slowly started to move, not faltering his eye contact.

He thrusted antagonisingly slow, hurting you was his worst nightmare, but you couldn't take this. "Please- ah! Please faster!" You pleaded.

"A-are you sure angel? I don't wan-"

"Fuck me harder! please! I need you"

You threw all dignity out the window, you'd beg for his dick if you had to. That riled him up to the point he wanted to go faster too, so he did. Thrusting into you hard and fast, his eyes progressively glowing brighter and brighter as he witnessed the beautiful sight before him. "ff-fuck angel! So tight, like you were made for me."

His talk got you closer and closer, causing you to say whatever came to mind. "Ah- Fuck! So good, daddy!" ...that caught him off guard.

"Ohh~ fuck baby, you know me so well" he nearly came on the spot hearing you call him daddy, while also relieved that he didn't have to tell you that he absolutely lovedddd it.

His thrusts became more animalistic by the second, unhooking your legs from around his waist and pushing them to your chest. Fucking deeper and deeper inside you. You felt like passing out right then, his cock reaching places you were sure didn't exist before.

"Shitshitshit! Ah- Luci! I'm close"

"Me too baby- cum for me, cum on my cock"

You pulled him down by his unbuttoned waistcoat and captured his lips with yours once more. Feeling his tongue invade your mouth as you both came to climax. Thick ropes of his hot, white cum shot up into your womb as you came undone for him. He made you into a fucked out mess, while also treating you like a porcelain doll. He pulled out but used his fingers to shove his cum back inside of you, rambling on about how he'd love to see you pregnant, how he wanted a child with you, even if he knew there was a very small chance of it actually happening.

Luci layed down next to you, holding you close and whispering soft praises in your ear. You could already hear the bath running, perks of having a boyfriend who uses sorcery. You could tell he was the one, no one had ever treated you like this, and you'd never loved anyone like this before.

"Thankyou baby, I love you"

"I love you too, my beautiful angel"

----------------------------------------------------

RAHHH this took so long wtf lmfao 💀 I hope y'all like it tho 🫶🏻🫶🏻 I don't rlly have much to say here so yuh

Side note tho, I'm so obsessed w Lucifers voice when he says "but hey! A hotel, fun" in episode 5 like UGH his voice is just so 🙏🏻🙏🏻

[thescrapwitch]

Bilbo is sitting on a bench in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the quiet peace of Elrond’s garden, when he sees her: a tall, dark skinned woman with curly black hair and a warm smile. The fact that someone who looks neither elf nor Maiar is in Valinor startles him. Makes him sit up straighter, drop the book he was reading to the ground. All in black, wearing a dress not unlike a Gondorian noble with a peculiar pendant dangling from her neck, she makes for a strange sight. But her smile is so kind, so gentle, and it makes him smile back.

Bilbo debates, briefly, about getting up to shake her hand, but his legs have been very weak the past few days. He does not want to rise only to crash face-first into the dirt by her feet. That would be rude. So he stays sitting on the bench and gives her a friendly nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo Baggins,” she says. Bilbo is not surprised that she knows his name. As he is one of the three hobbits in the blessed lands, it would be more strange if she didn’t. But she says it with such familiarity that it makes him frown.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he says, “but have we met before?” He knows her. Bilbo knows he knows her, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Like he sent her an invitation long ago and, now that she’s come as promised, completely forgot about their plans. “Were you a guest at one of my birthday parties?”

She laughs. “No. I don’t normally get invited to those. But I heard your eleventy-first one was quite the event! ”

A shame. She seems like she would have been a wonderful guest. “Could you tell me where we met, then? I know we must have met somewhere, but my brain is not as nimble as it once was, and the memory is escaping me.”

“It was less a formal meeting,” she says, “and more like having crossed paths many times.” Her eyes, which do not carry light the same way an elf’s would, are very, very dark. “I watched as you avoided becoming troll food, as you stumbled in the dark and traded riddles with Gollum, as you crept into Smog’s lair and fumbled as the Battle of the Five Armies tore at each other. But you escaped all of that unharmed, and so we never had a chance to be properly introduced. Until now.”

The answer hits him then, the knowledge rising up from his heart. Oh. Of course he knows her. He’s always known her. It was just easy to forget these past years in Valinor. “Death.”

“Yes.”

“Is it time then?” Bilbo feels, suddenly, very self-conscious. He’s wearing his second-best waistcoat today and wishes he’d worn his first-best one instead. He would have, certainly, if he knew such an important guest was coming to visit him. “I am dying?”

“You are dead,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. Death does not appear to be in any hurry, no grabbing or pulling him along to wherever mortal souls go. Instead, she tips her head back to bask in the sunshine. “Mind if I rest my feet? I don’t normally have to travel this far for work, you know. Still, a change of scenery is always nice. Have they been good to you, these immortals?”

“Yes,” he says, because they have. Elrond and dear Gandalf and all the other friends he’s made in this land. He will miss them all, and hopes they will not be too upset to find him gone. He hopes that they will take care of Frodo and Sam, and that they will not waste a long time grieving. Then, because he cannot help but be curious, even at the end, he says, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” she says. “Take your time. The dying part is already over with. You don’t have to go on until you’re ready.”

She really is so very polite. A shame Bilbo never had the chance to invite her over for tea. He is certain that Death would have had lovely stories to share and impeccable manners. “From what the elves have told me, the Vala Mandos is in charge of death. How is it that you are here for me and not him?”

“Mandos manages death for the elves,” she corrects, not at all upset with the question, “and Aulë the dwarves. But mortals, humans and hobbits, you come with me to receive my gift.”

“You’re a much different god than him.”

“Oh, don’t call me a god.” Death gives him a grin, a flash of bright humor. “That’s too fancy a title. I’m less a divine being and more…more someone with an endless task to do. That’s all.”

“My nephew, Frodo, and his Sam, will you come for them too?”

“Someday,” she promises. “But not yet.”

“Good.” Not that he wants Frodo or Sam to die, but all mortal things must, and he’d rather they had a friendly face for such a journey. Let this one be much kinder to them than the road to Mordor was.

They sit in silence for a moment longer. Bilbo takes one last look at the garden, at the bluebells and primroses that Celebrian planted, at the robins searching for worms, at the book which has fallen from his hands and landed half-open on the ground.

It was a good life, he thinks, and a long one. But all stories have to come to an end eventually, and this will be as best an ending as I could ever have hoped to earn. He stands up, straightens his waistcoat, and looks Death in the eye. “All right. I’m ready.”

Death stands up as well. There is a softness in the way she looks at him that erases any fear or dread Bilbo expected to have when his time was up. It feels more as though he is going on a long walk with a dear friend.

“What is it like, this place of endings beyond the circles of the world? Is it…nice?”

“You will see when you get there,” she says, and holds out her hand. “Think of it as one last adventure.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” says Bilbo. He takes Death’s hand. “Well then, lead the way.”

[soulofapatrick]

I’ll keep you safe Darling - Ominus Gaunt x Female Reader

Summary: Ominus finds you in the common room after Sebastian used the Cruciatus Curse on you

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: reference to pain

Y/N’s POV 

I collapse into one of the armchairs facing the dwindling fire in the Slytherin common room, the pain almost unbearable as it still ricochets through me in spasms. The memory of Sebastian’s use of the Cruciatus Curse lingers, tormenting me even as I try to catch my breath. My vision blurs as I try to focus on the crackling flames before me, seeking solace in their dancing glow. The darkness threatens to consume me, both within and without. Each wave of agony serves as a reminder of the horrors lurking in the shadows, waiting to ensnare me once more. 

As I struggle to regain my composure, the sound of footsteps echoes through the room, drawing closer with each passing moment. A familiar presence fills the air, accompanied by the subtle scent of Elm wood and the faint rustle of robes. 

“Ominus,” I whisper, relief flooding through me at the thought of his arrival. Despite his sarcastic demeanour and guarded exterior, there’s a warmth in his presence that I find comforting, a flicker of light amidst the darkness. 

I hear him approach, his footsteps measured yet purposeful, as if navigating the world with a sense of certainty born from experience. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade, sharp yet tinged with concern. 

“Are you okay?” Ominus’ words are more a worry than a question as he was there, he saw Sebastian cast the curse and could do nothing to stop him unless he wanted us all to die down in the Slytherin Scriptorium. I wasn’t going to let Ominus go through the Cruciatus Curse again after his childhood. 

I can sense the tension in the air, the weight of unspoken truths between us like a veil. He wants to move closer but it’s as if he’s scared to get too close but before I can tell him it’s okay I feel another spasm of pain sweep through me. My hands grip the arms of the chair so tightly I think I bend a nail back and my whole body trembles, a whimper of pain escaping my lips. 

Ominus lets out a soft sound in response, a mixture of sympathy and frustration. Before I can process it, he’s kneeling in front of me, his hands gently prying mine from the arms of the chair and into his own. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of our world. 

I can feel the warmth of his hands in mine, a comforting presence amidst the storm raging within me. His fingers intertwine with mine, a silent promise of support and understanding. And as he whispers soothing and sweet nothings, I find myself drawn to the sound of his voice, a beacon of hope in the darkness. 

The pain begins to subside, gradually fading into the background like a distant memory. I take a deep breath, willing myself to focus on the present moment, to find solace in Ominus's presence. For in his clouded blue eyes, I see a reflection of my own struggles, a shared bond forged in the fires of adversity. 

Ominus knelt before me, his clouded blue eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire. In this moment, he appears so open and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the guarded facade he often wares. His pale skin, dotted with moles, seems to glow in the dim light of the common room, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones. His blond hair, starting to stray from his usual slicked back style, framing his face like a halo, adding to his air of mystery and intrigue. Dressed in black trousers, a matching button up shirt and a sleek waistcoat, he exudes an aura of elegance and sophistication, a vision of dark allure in the midst of chaos. 

As I gaze into his eyes, I feel a surge of emotions coursing through me, sending butterflies dancing in my stomach. I had always admired Ominus from afar, drawn to his enigmatic charm and razor-sharp wit. But I never dared to hope that he could ever feel the same way about me, that beneath his cynical exterior, there lay a heart capable of love. 

Yet here he is, kneeling in front of me with a tenderness that takes my breath away. In his presence, I feel seen and understood in a way that I have never experienced before. And as he reaches out to brush away a stray tear, I can’t help but wonder if perhaps there is more to our connection than mere friendship. 

Something in me seems to break, a dam bursting forth with emotions I can no longer contain. I’m sliding off the armchair and into Ominus's waiting arms, my face buried in the crook of his neck as he wraps me in his embrace. His arms not hesitating to encircle me like a fortress, offering solace and protection in the midst of the storm. 

I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek, a comforting cadence that soothes the turmoil raging within me. His whispered words wash over me like a gentle tide, reassuring me that I am safe, that nothing can hurt me now. And in this moment, surrounded by darkness yet bathed in the warmth of his embrace, I know that I have found a sanctuary in Ominus's arms. For in his presence, I am no longer alone, no longer adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

I pull away just enough to search Ominus’ face for some sign, any hint of what lies beneath the surface. In the dim light of the common room, I catch a flicker of something in his clouded blue eyes, a spark of warmth amidst the shadows. It’s enough to embolden me, to give voice to the feelings that have long lain dormant within my heart. 

With trembling hands, I cup Ominus's face in mine, guiding his gaze to meet mine with an unspoken plea. His lips part slightly, a silent invitation that I cannot ignore. And in that moment, I lean forward, closing the distance between us with a soft, cautious kiss. 

As our lips meet in a soft, cautious kiss, I feel a surge of electricity coursing through my veins, igniting a fire within me that I never knew existed. Ominus' lips are warm and inviting, a tantalising promise of the unknown. His touch is gentle yet insistent, drawing me deeper into the embrace of our shared moment. 

For a heartbeat, the world falls away around us, leaving nothing but the intoxicating sensation of his presence. I can taste the faint hint of raspberry ice cream lingering on his lips, a lingering reminder of our shared meal earlier in the evening. It's a bittersweet symphony of flavours, a testament to the complexities of our connection. 

As we lose ourselves in the rhythm of our kiss, time seems to slow down, allowing me to savour every moment, every sensation. I feel the soft brush of Ominus's fingers against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. His lips, warm and tender, press against mine with a gentle urgency, igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume us both. 

But just as the kiss reaches its peak, Ominus breaks away, a rare smile gracing his tantalising lips. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and affection, a sight that takes my breath away. A chuckle escapes him as I try to follow his lips with mine, desperate to recapture the fleeting moment of intimacy. 

"You're eager, aren't you?" he teases, his voice laced with amusement. His fingers gently trace the contours of my cheek, sending waves of warmth cascading through me. "I've been wanting to do that since I first met you, you know," he admits, his tone soft yet filled with undeniable sincerity. 

His words hang in the air, a confession of longing and desire that takes me by surprise. In that moment, I realise that perhaps I'm not alone in my feelings, that Ominus harbours his own hidden depths of affection beneath his guarded exterior. 

And as I gaze into his clouded blue eyes, I see a reflection of my own desires, a shared bond that defies all logic and reason. In the warmth of his embrace, I find solace and strength, a sanctuary where love knows no boundaries.

“I’ll keep you safe Darling.” 

Harry Potter Masterlisr TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[scrapsovereign]

I wrote a smutty one shot because I wanted to sin outside of the longer fic I’m working on and felt like I needed the practice.

I Think He Knows

Link to story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55385323

Astarion comes home early unexpectedly as a week long case wraps up before lunch.

He is going to scold you for leaving your dirty adventuring gear in a heap downstairs, but is so happy you're home he almost forgets all about it.

Until he sees what you were doing in his dirty clothes in your freshly changed bedsheets…

(POV female Reader x Magistrate Astarion/3k words of straight up filth underneath the cut)

You were so close to your climax, rubbing and thrusting the soft, spongy spot inside of your entrance with your fingers when you heard the jingling sound of the front door opening.

Shit.

“Darling, home from your adventuring so soon?” The voice of your beloved calls out to you, the musical words carried up the stairs by the acoustics of your shared townhome.

How are you home so early? What in the nine hells- how is he home so early? He sounded fairly confident in the sending spell he replied to as you made your way within the final stretch of the road home that jury deliberations were going to take at least until the end of the day.

You can hear him grumble unintelligible words of disapproval at the filthy armor you had peeled off shortly after you arrived home and left on the floor of the foyer.

“Adventuring gear strewn about the floor again? My sweet, we’ve talked about this…”

Your heart pounds from his scolding and you sit up in bed, covering your drenched thighs with the soft, clean linens of the duvet. Hands wet with the slick of your arousal work swiftly to halfway fasten the buttons of his dirty work shirt that you blamed for the cause of your activities after you had arrived home early.

The stairs creak under the weight of his feet as he makes his way up to your shared bedroom.

Running your hands through your hair, you try to smooth out the area that had been frizzled by your rutting, wiping the sweat off your brow.

You can feel a heat wash over you when you flush at the sight of your husband whisking around the corner of the hallway in irritation, black silk robes floating behind him as he sharply turned the corner. He was always gorgeous, but there was something irresistible about him in his magistrate garb- even more so when he would take it off.

An involuntary clench rocks your body forward when you notice he had already begun the process of undressing on his way up the stairs. His flawlessly pressed shirt had been undone a few buttons to the middle of his chest, reading glasses hanging down from a single breast pocket on his waistcoat. You followed the trail down his lithe frame to his fine silver and black leather belt, down the lines of immaculately tailored trousers.

Whatever temper that had flared in him melts away just as quickly as it had arrived. After a very long week of going through the motions without you at his side, the ache in his chest that set in with your absence fills with a warm light at the sight of you in your bed. You are finally home.

The intensity of the look you share while he stands in the doorway makes you suddenly aware of how your nipples felt brushing against the fine linen of his filthy shirt as you breathe…and the throbbing sensation between your legs.

“My brave heroine, have you returned from your travels victorious?” He lilts, sauntering over to you.

“Even if we had found the mountains of gold rumored to exist underneath the City, it wouldn’t compare to the treasure that awaits me when I return.”

You capture his face with your hands when he looms over you, drawing him to stand at the edge of the bed. You shift your hips and move your legs so that the insides of your knees are touching the finely woven and expensive wool of his trousers.

“Clever little thing, using my own honeyed words against me.”

When your lips meet his, it is so perfect, so sweet that it tugs the strings of your heart. You pull away momentarily before slanting your mouths hungrily against each other. A half-lidded, lusty gaze from him and a ragged breath from you snap you both together like two ends of a magnet.

Your tongues glide against each other in concert as you kiss deeply, devouring each other now that you have broken your fast. You catch his tongue in your mouth and suck on it like you would his cock, eliciting an obscene groan that vibrates in the back of his throat.

He reaches up to pinch your nipples through his shirt, disarming you as you squeal and pull away. Dragging your bottom lip between his teeth, he chuckles at the filthy moan it draws out from you.

He pauses, his expression flattening as he sniffs the fingers that clutch his face. Suspicious eyes point downward at your uncovered lap, focusing on the sheen that coats the inside of your thighs in a vertical line. His pointed ears perk up and you sharply inhale as he nips the finger that had been inside of you minutes ago.

“Well, well. Couldn’t wait until I returned home? You naughty girl,” he grits out, squeezing your hands that rest on the side of his face. You clench again at his scolding, maneuvering your legs to rest inside of his to hide the rest of the evidence, pressing your knees tightly together.

“Perhaps I wanted to be ready for you when you returned home,” you purr out, surging forward to take his lower lip in between your teeth. Your front teeth clack together as he pulls away from you, straightening up with a dark, throaty chuckle.

“You’re a terrible liar, darling,” he turns away to drape the fine, obsidian silk of his magistrate robes over the same dressing bench you had found his perfumed and discarded shirt. Next, he removes his waistcoat in a similar fashion, placing his reading glasses with care on the bedside table next to you.

“While I am grateful that you never developed the skill for deception, you seem to have forgotten how well I know your particular brand of foolishness,” he takes the cufflinks out of his sleeves and rolls them up, tugging at the ends to ensure they are secured. You bite your lip and lean back on your hands in anticipation of what’s to follow. He has you trained like a pet, needy and eager for his touch.

“It seems a reminder is in order,” Astarion breathes out, running both his hands up your knees, over the tops of your thighs. He grasps the crest of your hips, a perfect handle for him to guide and manipulate your movements.

He revels in seeing you like this, desperate for his touch. You gasp out in surprise when he digs his fingers in, yanking you forward towards him.

“Have you forgotten how we would rip the armor off each other after battle back in our adventuring days? How we could barely make it upstairs at the inn or into our tents after a long day on the road?” He kneels down in front of you while he issues the reminder. You match his eye level as he speaks and lean back on your arms, watching Astarion slowly pry your legs apart.

“After the very last job we completed together you blamed the adrenaline rush that consumed you for your voracious appetite, almost stroking me to completion under the table at the Elfsong,” He kisses a line up your thighs, his lips lingering on you as he moves closer towards your drenched core.

“What can I say? I’m cursed to put my hands on everything. If I remember correctly, your hand was also up my skirt, doing the same thing- hah! That was a good night. My favorite part was when you fucked me in the alley later against the walls of the tavern.”

He pauses at your recollections, his face having reached the apex between your thighs. You crane your head up to see his eyes peeking above the crest of your sex, half-lidded and cloudy with lust.

“Cursed to put your hands on everything, you say?” Astarion rumbles out, gently moving your legs wider as he presses his lips to the corner of the inside of your thighs.

“Could you be a good girl for me and keep your hands to yourself while I pleasure you?”

You felt his warm tongue then, lapping and sucking along your tender flesh. Throwing your head back, you gasp at the sensation, rolling your hips forward. He suddenly withdraws his mouth with a pop, giving you a wicked look before languidly running the flat of his tongue against your slick, soaked outer lips.

Your wandering hands that had begun to card through his silver curls tense and freeze above him while he languidly licks up and down your center, the sensation driving you mad.

You need more.

Grasping the back of his head, you make an attempt to mash your engorged clit against his nose with a sudden upwards thrust of your hips, whining in desperation when you feel the sudden loss of him pull back from you.

“Ah-ah, what did I say, little love?” he tuts, delivering a single, punishing flick of his middle finger to your clit.

The only response he receives is you sobbing out his name, your back arching with the pain and pleasure of his correction. He leans on his elbow on the side of the bed and looks up at you expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

“Delicious as that was, I believe I am still owed a different reply,” he repeats the motion and you throw your head back, keening as you undulate your back against now rumpled bedsheets.

“Hells, Astarion, it’s not like I’m on trial,” you complain breathlessly. He perks up suddenly and rests a hand underneath his chin, the other drawing lazy circles on your hip, a villainous twinkle in his eye as he regards you with bemusement.

Uh oh.

“Now there’s an idea, love,” he drawls out, drumming his fingers on the crest of your hip. The tapping of his fingers unexpectedly feels good…really good. The percussion elicits a small roll upwards from your hips to meet them.

“...There’s an idea indeed. But we can’t have you showing up to your court date still filthy from the road, can we? In the tub you go, up you pop,” he orders, holding his hands out to you.

Once you are sitting on the bed, arms raised above your head, he lets go suddenly. The motion leaves you confused until you feel the barest touch of his fingers tracing up your sides. He collects the edges of his rumpled shirt, raising it above your head. Hastily throwing it aside, his hands return to cup your full and aching breasts. Thumbs draw lazy circles around your pert nipples, you hear him hum in appreciation when they pebble and harden with his touch.

“Can you stand up for me, beautiful?” You sat forward, feeling only a little unsteady on your feet from the orgasm that you were so recently denied as you rise.

Your mouth opens in surprise when Astarion sweeps you up in his arms. He carries you to the tiled bathing room, setting you down in the tub while he activates the enchantments that fill it with rapidly with warm water.

He wastes no time unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it slowly from his chest. You watch him make quick work of removing his clothing with practiced ease. He enters the waters of the bathing tub with you in a fluid motion, denying your hungry gaze the view of his naked form that it so desperately craves.

He takes a sponge sitting on a built-in ledge on the wall and soaks it in the water, ringing it out. He swipes it sensually up the side of your breasts, slowly down your neck. Maneuvering you to face away from him, you gasp out as he perches your slippery sex upon on his thigh. The sponge goes down below the water and you chase your pleasure rutting along him while he brushes in long strokes up and down your abdomen, to the bottom of your breasts, gently kissing the side of your neck.

You’re an absolute mess. You grasp the edge of the tub, head thrown back against Astarion’s shoulder in ecstasy, breasts bobbing up toward the surface of the water.

“Please, please Astarion…” you gasp out, a pressure building in your core as you rock along the alabaster expanse of his thigh, your legs spreading wider underneath the water.

“Please what, darling? Use your words,” He licks a line from your neck, up to your sensitive ears, nipping and sucking along the cartilage. You cry out softly at the sensation, squirming in his lap.

“I need you inside me…please,”

Astarion presses a kiss to your shoulder and looks around the would be peaceful and quiet bathing room. Lazy rays of the mid-day sunlight stream in through the sheer window treatments that illuminated the tiled and grouted surfaces of the floors and walls. At this time of day, he would be going through cases and preparing notes to bring with him to his next session at the beginning of the next tenday.

Seizing the opportunity his pause brings, you grasp his hand in yours, plunging it down below the water, the destination between your legs.

You hear a knowing chuckle behind you when he slips free of your grasp with an effortless rotation of his wrist. He encircles you with strong arms, nimble fingers pinching both of your nipples tightly. He smiles devilishly as you moan and writhe against him. Now that you’re cleaned up, it’s time to get dirty again.

“Mrs. Ancunin. As it stands, you are being accused of pleasuring yourself while you are filthy on our freshly cleaned sheets. How do you plead?” He practically growls out the last few words, the change in timbre sending a shiver up your spine.

“Ah! Not guilty…”

Astarion bites a sensitive spot on the side of your neck that he knows drives you absolutely insane. He flicks his tongue over your skin, delighting in your sobs of frustration.

“Not guilty your…?” he asks in between swipes of his tongue.

“Your honor” you gasp out, gripping the seat of the tub beneath the water with white knuckles.

“Present your proof to the court.” He nips at the crook of your neck.

“I was…uhm…technically ‘resting’ when you got home. I didn’t know the sheets were freshly changed. And…I almost stood on my own just now without falling down…so if it’s all the same to you-” you lift your hips and angle them so that you are almost successful at impaling yourself on his twitching cock. He catches you at the waist, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

“Wicked thing. Are you ready for your verdict?” He tuts, lowering you just enough so that your slick and throbbing entrance is barely grazing along the tip of his penis.

“Yes, your honor,” you gasp, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“On the count of pleasuring yourself while you are filthy, I find you guilty.” He whips you around to face him and hungrily claims your lips, still holding you above him. He moans greedily in to your mouth as you try to grind down on him again, he’s not sure how much longer he can resist you. You're so eager, so responsive, and all his.

You break the kiss by successfully dragging your teeth over his lower lip.

“And my sentence, your honor?”

He releases your waist.

“Ride me.”

You both groan out and curse in mutual relief as you plunge down on his length. Your walls are already beginning to tighten around him, pulsating with the lewd sounds that you both make, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathing room. Astarion growls at the sight of your breasts that slap against the surface of the water and the feeling of your walls milking his cock.

He grabs your ass and yanks you forward, positioning you over him that his mouth is on your breast, licking and sucking your sensitive nub. He slams up into you, moving your hips up and down on him, guiding himself deeper. You feel the rumble of his ecstasy bring you closer to your peak as you sob out with pleasure at the change of movement and pace.

“Gods, Astarion I’m so close,” you’re so perfect, so tight around him-

“Then let go, my sweet.”

The spasming of your walls against him send him over the edge with you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, moaning your name in euphoric relief. The profane noises of his release, sensation of his warm seed shooting into you, his cock spasming inside of you brings you to the peak again.

“I can’t stop, Astarion, I can’t…ahhhh!”

A second wave crashes through you. He continues to fuck you through your drawn out orgasm, marveling at how beautiful you are unraveling in his arms. Slowing the pace he kisses you again, savoring the taste of you as your hips gradually slow down and lift off of him.

Giving him a satisfied sigh, you nuzzle your forehead into his neck.

“And they both went to horny jail and lived happily ever after.”

“Technically, it would be prison. Jail is for holding the accused prior to sentencing my love,” You grumble and nip his ear in irritation at the reminder.

Astarion laughs softly, kissing the side of your flushed and sweaty face.

“What do you say we dry off and take this to the other room? I’d like to request a hearing to negotiate an early…release,” you nip and suck your way along the line of his pointed ears, eliciting a new series of debauched noises from his lips.

“You’re insatiable,” he says with a smile, throwing his head back in bliss.

He wraps your legs around his waist, supporting your back with his strong, lean arms as he stands the two of you up. You watch the water drain away with his utterance of the correct enchantments under his breath.

“Early release is only granted for good behavior, prisoner- which you haven’t demonstrated since you arrived home. I hope you’re ready for your punishment.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [26] - Bellflower

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It can be tricky to deal with insecurities.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

This was such a beautiful morning.

You woke up quite early, still feeling giddy after last night. It seemed to be one of those days where you just knew it would go well even from the beginning of it, which was quite surprising because it was becoming more and more of a usual mood for you, contrary to how you used to wake up before.

“You seem rather happy,” Paula commented as she finished your hair.  “Have you had nice dreams?”

“Something like that,” you said as you put on your earrings. “How about you? How was your night?”

“Uneventful I’m afraid,” she said but before you could reply, the knock on the door made both of you turn your heads.

“Yes?” you called out and the door opened, your heart skipping a beat as soon as you saw who it was.

“Good morning,” Benedict greeted you from the doorway and you felt a smile warm your face.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity, “Come in please. Paula you may leave us, thank you.”

Paula left the room and Benedict stepped inside, the four-leaf clover peeking from the front pocket of his waistcoat catching your attention immediately. Your smile widened when you noticed that he was holding something behind his back and you tilted your head.

“What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife,” he said with a grin and held out a bouquet of flowers, making you let out a gasp.

“Oh my God!” you said and took the flowers from him, nibbling on your lip. “Thank you!”

“Likewise,” he said, motioning at the clover and you looked down at the bouquet that was not tied together by any kind of ribbon yet carefully cut and placed together, then up at him.

“Are these from our garden?”

“Mm hm, and Mr. Binsted has been a great help.”

You hummed, taking a look at the stems. “Thankfully,” you said with a teasing smirk. “I doubt you know where to cut the stems.”

“Yeah see, I was planning on just ripping them—”

“Don’t you dare!” you exclaimed, holding the flowers to your chest as if protecting them and Benedict chuckled.

“Then I remembered you have a knife so…”

“Two knives.”

“Ah yes, I stand corrected.”

You buried your nose into the flowers to take a deep breath, then raised your head.

“So I take it you’ve been to your studio already?”

“Mm hm, first thing in the morning. Painted a little.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

He shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know if it will turn out wonderful but…” he trailed off and you thought for a moment.

“You know, if you need help painting roses, I could help you,” you said with an air of exaggerated arrogance, making him let out a laugh.

“Oh really?”

“Mm hm. To share my rare gift and everything.”

“Much appreciated,” he said, that playful glimmer shining in his blue eyes and you nodded in a solemn manner.

“Talent only grows when it’s shared,” you said, walking past him to step out of the room into the hallway, still holding the flowers to your chest as he followed you out of the room. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well—” he started but was cut off when a very familiar and excited voice rang through the hallway.

“Y/N?” Teddy called out. “Can I see my gift now?”

You and Benedict exchanged confused glances before your aunt’s voice reached you as well.

“Teddy!”

“What on…?” you muttered as the butler entered your sight.

“Ma’am, your aunt and your brother—” he started but Teddy wheezed past him, running to you at full speed to crash into you.

“Thank you,” you told the butler with a laugh before handing him the flowers and asked him to put them in the water, then crouched down to wrap your arms around Teddy.

“Good morning,” you said, pulling back to see him better. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Where’s my gift?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “What gift?”

“You said—Benedict!” Teddy exclaimed, looking up at him as if asking for his help and Benedict chuckled.

“Don’t mind her Teddy, you definitely have a gift in the house as we speak.”

“Can I see it now?”

“Good morning to you both,” your aunt said and Benedict bowed.

“Good morning Lady Thorne.”

“My apologies for the intrusion and the very early hour.”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “Please. You are always welcome here, so is Teddy.”

“I have this urgent meeting with Lady Wesley for the ball she’s planning to throw and all the Social Picnic Club is invited.”

“Social Picnic Club?” Benedict asked and you raised your brows.

“Think of it like a mini parliament among the ladies,” you said helpfully. “Actually, I take it back. I’m sure the actual parliament has fewer requirements to become a part of it.”

“It’s not so bad,” your aunt defended herself. “It’s a great honor, and when the time comes—”

“I will absolutely not be a part of it auntie, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Anyway,” your aunt said while Benedict tried to repress his chuckle. “Teddy insisted that we visited you two on our way there.”

“For my gift!”

“And here I thought you missed me.”

“I did miss you!” Teddy said and you ruffled his hair, then turned to your aunt.

“Can he stay here while you have your meeting?”

Teddy gasped and looked up at your aunt. “Can I please, auntie?”

“Oh of course,” she said and turned to you and Benedict. “Are you two sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“We’d love to,” Benedict said. “And Teddy’s gift is going to take some time, so it’s even better.”

Teddy giggled and your aunt smiled at you.

“Very well then,” she said. “Teddy my dearest, we’re going to be on our best behavior hm?”

Teddy nodded fervently. “Yes.”

“I will be back in two hours tops.”

“Take your time,” you said and she kissed you, then bid you and Benedict goodbye and walked away from you. Teddy looked up at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Can I see my gift now please?”

“Did you eat yet?”

“I did, eggs and toast and jam,” he said impatiently, and turned to Benedict. “Can I see my gift?”

Benedict winked at you, then hoisted Teddy up to place him over his shoulders, making him let out an excited laugh that echoed through the hallway as you took a step towards him immediately.

“Benedict—”

“Yes?”

“Be careful,” you said and looked at Teddy. “Uh, Teddy maybe you should—”

“No!” Teddy cut you off. “It’s fun!”

“It’s just that,” you told Benedict, “You’re very tall so if you drop him he could get hurt—”

“I won’t drop him, don’t worry.”

“Y/N it’s fun!” Teddy insisted, his eyes shining with excitement and you heaved a sigh, then held up your hands.

“Alright then.”

“Ready to go?” Benedict asked and Teddy giggled.

“Yes!” he said and Benedict started walking to the studio with Teddy still giggling, and you shook your head slightly, then followed them with a smile on your face.

                                              *

You asked the maids to bring a vase, some soil and the little bag of geranium seeds that Benedict had gifted you earlier. Since you did not hold any artistic talent or anything of the sort, you figured you could spend time with them by doing what you had wanted for a long time.

Digging your fingers into some soil and planting flowers.

Teddy looked like he was having the time of his life. Benedict was teaching him how to make the clay before they would model it around the simple figures made out of wires. He was listening to everything Benedict was saying, his whole attention on him, his tongue sticking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he tried to mimic what Benedict was doing.

You knew you were supposed to focus on your own work but it was a bit difficult when Benedict was sitting not far from you on the floor with his sleeves rolled up, letting you steal glances at his strong arms.

“And then we’re going to mix it, alright? Put some water in,” he instructed him and Teddy poured a little water into the mixture, looking up at him as if hoping for his approval and Benedict smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Very nice, see? You’re going to be the next Donatello at this rate.”

Teddy nodded with a proud grin and you tilted your head.

“Do you know who Donatello is, Teddy?” you asked as you put some soil into the vase, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“No,” he said, turning to look at Benedict. “Who is he?”

“He was this incredibly talented sculptor,” Benedict said as he checked out the clay Teddy was mixing, “He was born in Italy, and he worked really really hard to be a sculptor, and now his works are everywhere, just like yours will be one day.”

Teddy giggled, the happy sound making you smile.

“Can I see his works?” Teddy asked and Benedict nodded.

“How about your sister and I take you to Italy one day so that you can see his sculptures?”

He gasped and nodded fervently. “Yes please!” he said. “When did he—when did he make his sculptures?”

“Oh so so many years ago,” Benedict said. “Like five hundred years ago.”

Teddy’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Mm hm.”

“And we can see them now?”

Benedict nodded with a grin, obviously happy with Teddy’s curiosity and excitement.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Because that’s what art does. It lasts for centuries and centuries, so that people can see it forever.”

“If I become a sculptor,” Teddy said. “Will people see my works as well? Five—five hundred years in the future?”

“They will,” Benedict said. “And they will admire all your works.”

Teddy turned to you, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Y/N, did you hear?”

“Mm hm,” you said with a grin. “That’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It is!”

“Alright future artist,” Benedict said. “Are you ready for the next stage?”

“Yes!”

“We will put this clay around these wires, hm? So that we can have the shape we will follow and then work on it.”

Teddy nodded and got to it immediately, and you carefully put the seeds into the soil, pressing with your fingers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Benedict asked and you looked up from the vase, then grinned at him.

“Oh I think I’ll let the artists cover the art front,” you said. “I’m fine over here.”

“So wait,” Teddy said as he worked on putting the clay over the wire model. “Will people see your paintings five hundred years from now as well?”

“They will,” you said before Benedict could even answer and he gave you a smile before turning to Teddy.

“Your sister says so.”

“Will they see that painting?” Teddy asked, pointing at the half-finished landscape on one of the canvases and Benedict shook his head, then pointed at the covered painting at the corner.

“That one.”

“What’s on it?”

Benedict grinned and nodded in your direction, making Teddy gasp.

“Y/N?”

“Mm hm. Her portrait, or at least it will be once it’s finished.”

“I’m very excited for that one,” you commented and Teddy shifted his weight.

“It’s for future people?”

Benedict nodded and turned his gaze to you to smile at you softly.

“So that people will get to see what true beauty looks like even after five hundred years.”

You could swear your cheeks were on fire but you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then made a face at him, making him laugh.

“That’s exactly how your portrait will look,” he told you and you gasped.

“No it will not!” you protested and poured some water on the soil. After making sure it was damp enough, you pulled your hands back, very much aware of the smile on your face.

“Too bad those flowers won’t last five hundred years,” Teddy commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“No they won’t,” you said. “But they’ll be beautiful either way.”

                                                *

Towards the afternoon your aunt came to get Teddy, and you spent the most of the day reading but when the night fell, you and Benedict decided to go to a party.  It had been a while since you last did that, and you always had such fun in them so you were rather excited.

It was only when you were in the carriage that you had asked where the party was and to hear the answer “Lady Margery’s” was less than ideal, but it wasn’t as if you could tell Benedict to turn the carriage around and go back home so you had tried not to let it affect your mood or your expression.

Lady Margery’s house was very impressive. It was surrounded by a huge garden full of different flowers on the outside, and the inside was full of artworks adorning the walls of many hallways leading to various rooms with different types of entertainment.

“Do you think Felix will be here?” you asked Benedict and he shook his head.

“I think I heard him say he had plans with—” he paused for a second, then turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“So Andrew and Josie,” he said, making you look up at him.

“Yes?”

“Andrew and Josie are married right?”

You tried to control the grin threatening to curl your lips. “Yeah they eloped. Got married in Gretna Green, Bess was there as well.”

“Right,” he said. “And uh…Josie and Bess seem very close.”

You had to bite at your lips, feigning innocence. “Yes they’re best friends.”

“They are—” Benedict swallowed thickly. “They seem to be very close best friends.”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him in a completely naïve manner. “Yes. Your point being?”

“Nothing at all,” Benedict said. “I was just wondering if they were—best friends.”

“They are,” you said. “They’re such best friends that most of the time they share a bed.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Oh?”

“Uh huh.”

“And when—when that happens, where is Andrew exactly?”

“Probably finding his own best friend to share a bed with,” you said, now letting a grin split your face. “It seems like his best friend might be Felix nowadays.”

Benedict gasped, looking at you in complete shock. “You did this on purpose!”

“The look on your face—how naïve do you take me for, honestly?” you asked with a laugh. “Do you think I wouldn’t be able to notice my sister being with her lover?”

Benedict shook his head, pointing at you. “Diabolical.”

“I seem to like seeing you beat around the bush, that was rather adorable,” you said, still giggling and he shot you a playful look.

“So you knew all along?”

“Of course I did,” you said. “I was there when they planned it—Benedict, if you so much as utter a word of this—”

“You know me better than that,” he said and you smiled at him.

“I do,” you admitted. “But anyway, yes. It’s an arrangement where everyone is happy, and you can’t say that for many marriages in the ton.”

Benedict thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose?”

“Well well, isn’t this Adonis and Venus?” a teasing voice reached you and you turned to see Henry grinning at you. “Welcome.”

“Oh hello Henry,” you said. “Is Lucy here?”

“She’s…occupied at the moment,” Henry said before grinning at Benedict. “I may have a surprise for you.”

Benedict tilted his head. “What surprise?”

“One of my friends is coming to London,” Henry said. “Sometime this month, but considering how impulsive he is, it could be within the week as well. And it is someone I think you would love to meet.”

“Who?”

“Lord Easton.”

Benedict’s eyes widened and you looked between them. “Who’s Lord Easton?”

“He’s one of my absolute heroes in art,” Benedict said, still gawking at Henry. “Are you serious?”

“Mm hm. I did tell him I had a very promising artist he should meet.”

“Henry!” Benedict hissed. “You can’t tell him that, I don’t even…I’m not even applying for the Academy this year, and my paintings are not even close to be ready, let alone to be seen by—”

“They’re good, Ben,” Henry said and you squeezed at his arm in an assuring manner.

“You’ll be fine.”

“No no, Easton is a genius,” Benedict said and Henry shot you a grin.

“I don’t know if I should be offended about the fact that I’m not his hero in art.”

“One can have multiple heroes,” you teased him but before Henry could joke back, you heard a silky voice.

“Welcome to the party.”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see Lady Margery better and Benedict and Henry bowed their heads. There was no wonder why she had so many admirers as Lucy had informed you earlier, she really was breathtaking. Her nonchalant smile fit the gleam in her eyes perfectly as she stole a look at them, then turned to you.

“We meet at last,” she said. “Mrs. Bridgerton, I’ve heard so much about you.”

You smiled back. “Likewise.”

“I hope you won’t mind that I’m stealing her Benedict for drinks,” she grinned at him and you arched a brow at the first name basis. “We’ll be back, excuse us gentlemen.”

She linked her arm through yours and gently led you away from them so that you could pass through the hallway, and you looked around at the paintings hanging on the walls.

“You have a lovely home,” you said and she turned to see what you were looking at, then waved a hand in the air.

“Thank you,” she said. “It took me a while to get rid of all my late husband’s belongings and it included a lot of portraits of him and his family, but now there are finally paintings I enjoy looking at.”

You blinked a couple of times, then followed her into the room where there was a long counter with two footmen making drinks. It was such an unfamiliar sight that for a moment you just stared at them, then remembered to turn to her.

“My condolences for your late husband.”

She scoffed a laugh and motioned at a footman who quickly grabbed two glasses of drinks to bring you.

“No need for any condolences,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed of being a widow.”

Dear God, she really was what you had hoped to be before getting married to Benedict.

She clinked her glass with yours and took a sip, urging you to do the same. You could feel the drink burn your throat, but you cleared your throat and smiled up at her.

“Well then congratulations on getting what you dreamed of.”

“Why thank you,” she said. “I find the idea of marriage quite absurd if you ask me, especially within the ton. It’s the worst prison to be.”

“Not for everyone,” the words left your lips before you had any chance to stop them and she tilted her head.

“Oh obviously,” she said. “Benedict and you are the exception, Henry says so. Did you like the geraniums?”

Your eyes shot up to hers and you paused for a moment. It was almost like looking in the mirror, Margery was so good at keeping her cards up to her chest that you could not tell whether she was being friendly or not.

If it were a couple of months ago, she would have been your absolute hero in life, but now…

“Ben says you told him where to get those seeds,” you said and she nodded her head.

“Well I’m glad they worked,” she said. “Though I don’t believe in love, it’s quite pleasant to see the couples that do.”

“And what do you believe in?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m a bit of a…hedonist I suppose,” she said. “What we call love is merely a name to cover what we truly desire. I don’t believe love lasts, so we should get all the pleasure we can get from this short life.”

Well it was no wonder why she and Benedict got along well. Though Benedict believed in love, his whole life had been nothing but a hedonistic existence up until very recently.

“And when I said that to Henry, he said I sounded like Lord Easton,” she said with a laugh and your brows furrowed. “Can you believe that? All this time, I’ve been unknowingly leading my life according to the ideals of my most favorite artist.”  

Oh.

Alright then.

The insecurity crashed over you so fast that for a moment you couldn’t even understand why your mood had changed. Lady Margery was everything you had wanted to be before getting married and you had a feeling that she was also what Benedict had wanted -and perhaps still did- in a partner. She was gorgeous, carefree, mysterious and well educated, she knew all about art and apparently they even had the same favorite artist.

And to make things even worse, she wasn’t even trying.

“Sir Granville says Lord Easton will be in London in a month or so,” you managed to say and she nodded.

“Oh yes I’ve heard. I’m rather excited to meet him—” she started but was cut off when someone called out her name, making her look at the person.

“The duty of a hostess even during a party,” she muttered and turned to you. “Will you excuse me please?”

“Of course,” you said and watched her walk away before letting out a breath, that heavy feeling still at the bottom of your stomach. You downed your drink, then put the empty glass on the nearest tray and made your way out of the room.

Everyone seemed to have fun, laughter and chatter echoing even in the hallway as you passed through it, then stepped outside. The chill weather was like a balm to your burning face, and you took a deep breath, then made your way down the stone road to approach the nearest bench to sit down.

It wasn’t even her fault. By all means, Margery sounded like someone you would be such good friends with, if you could extinguish this fire of envy in your heart and you knew it was nonsense, and yet…

You groaned and leaned down to bury your face into your forearms, taking deep breaths. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but soon enough your ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer to stop in front of you.

You pulled out your knife and flicked it with one hand without even lifting your head.

“Walk away.”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” Benedict replied and your head shot up, and you tucked the knife back into its place before putting it back into your cleavage.

“Hello.”

“Hello there, potential murderer,” he teased you. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded your head, then stood up from the bench. “Sure. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you out of the window.”

“Ah,” you said. “Yeah I’m alright. I just felt like getting some fresh air, so…”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again and took a step to walk past him but he caught your hand before you could walk away, your name leaving his lips again. You stopped dead in your tracks, sparks of excitement rushing through your veins before you bit down on your lip, then laced your fingers through his, your heart doing a happy flip. You could swear the simple gesture made his breath hitch and you stepped closer to him to rest your forehead against his hard chest, standing there completely still like a statue. His pleasant scent filled your nostrils, making you take a deep breath as discreetly as you could.  

“Hey,” Benedict said, his deep murmur vibrating in his chest. “What is it?”

You shrugged your shoulders without pulling back.

“Can we stay like this for a moment please?”

Benedict’s voice was soft; “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

You nodded against his chest, and he dragged his fingertips up your spine to cradle the back of your head, probably messing up your carefully coiffed updo but you couldn’t care less. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled to the top of your head, burying his nose into your hair.

“What is it?” he murmured, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand and you swallowed thickly.

“Inside my head is not peaceful I guess,” you said. “It happens sometimes.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

“No,” you muttered. “I just…it helps. You being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” he said, his words like the sweetest promise and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Can you say that nonsense thing that I don’t believe in?”

He paused for only a moment before a chuckle climbed up his throat, coaxing a smile from you as well. His fingertips stroked over the back of your neck, sending a fire down your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair and heaved a sigh. “God, you have no idea how much I love you.”

You could almost feel your heart melting inside your chest and your smile widened, his words washing away that small insecure voice in your head. You squeezed at his hand, nudging at his chest with your nose before pulling back to look up at him. For a moment, you both stared at each other, your eyes locked in his, desire spreading through your veins like wildfire before you took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together.

“Let’s go back inside,” you managed to say and he tilted his head to shoot you that lopsided grin, his eyes gleaming even under the moonlight as if he was amused.

“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, did you know that?”

You gave him a mischievous smile, then tugged at his hand and started walking with him following you.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, excitement making you nearly giddy. “I’m quite simple if you ask me.”

Chapter 27