#love this ​sweet heartfelt speech

[sunshineandlyrics]

💕 Louis' speech about his first audition and appreciating the fans 🥹

FITFWT Manchester, 11 November 2023

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

[oncloudten]

if he's a serial killer, then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

ethan landry x fem!reader. scream 6 spoilers. cw: choking, mentions of sex, murder, slight dirty talk.

read part ii. here

"get the fuck off me, you sick fuck!" you managed to get out, barely breathing.

he had you completely fooled. the boy with the puppy dog eyes and the sweetest smile. every horror film has a sweet little dorky cliche virgin, and he chose to embody that role perfectly. ethan landry.

though, the virgin part wouldn't be true. and you have yourself to thank for that.

who would have thought? well, maybe mindy. oh god. she'll kill you for this– if they don't first. if he doesn't.

all those nights you spent with ethan, all those days. everytime you'd tell tara and mindy about him and your massive crush on him, and then eventually the friends-with-benefits thing you had going on, she'd try to offer you her enthusiasm and be the supportive best-friend that she usually is to you, but it would always be followed by heartfelt speeches of her telling you to "be careful" and that she doesn't trust him. she never did like him from the start.

but you weren't worried about mindy right now, you couldn't. not when ethan had such a tight grip around your neck, and your friends were somewhere in this building being chased by his family.

"hmm? i thought you liked it when i did this, princess." ethan smirks, trailing his knife on your cheeks.

asshole. of course he'd say that. because why wouldn't he? he knew everything about you. you had given yourself to him completely– in every way. something so private being used against you– someone so... wicked knowing such intimate and delicate things about you, that no one else does. you can't process anything. "t-that means nothing."

he let go of your neck, but only slightly to stop choking you. he's towering over you, pushing you up against a wall. "didn't seem like that a few nights ago when you were begging for it, you dirty fucking slut."

"fuck you."

"oh, i'd love to. but i got my hands bloody full right now. oh and, been there, done that." he says, proudly. there is something so sinister about his smile. his killer smile. "come on, you sweet dumb thing. lighten up a bit, won't you? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"if you're going to kill me, just fucking do it. why the fuck bring me here? kill me and get it over with." there's no telling what he's going to do. he has you completely isolated from sam and tara. and chad is gone— you found ethan when you were forcibly seperated when ghostface showed up, and it immediately clicked.

"oh no no no no no, you sweet pretty thing. i love sticking things in you, but i would never stick a knife in you. never hurt you. well, i mean, kill you. it's your friends that we're after." he pauses for a bit. "well that wouldn't be right to say either. it is sam and tara that we want," he inches closer to you, "but it just feels so fucking good to kill. so fucking good baby."

"you're sick."

"and you love me. isn't that what you were telling mindy and quinn a few weeks ago? hmm?"

fuck. what are the fucking chances of that wicked witch being his literal fucking sister? "that was before i found out you are the one who is actively trying to kill my best fucking friends, you dimwitted fucking asshole!"

he lets out a low chuckle. "if it makes you feel any better. you're the closest thing i'll ever get to love in this world. i do love you. well, god, did i love fucking you. y'gave me the best sex of my life. but it was more than that."

"stop. just stop. let me go." you beg, "let me go please, ethan. i'll just go- just my friends, my- chad, please."

"i can't do that, angel. my job is to keep you away from them. protect you, even. see, my lovely sister thought it'd be funny to kill you. claims you're just baggage. that it would hurt sam and tara the most because you're practically the closest thing they have to family. but i can't let that happen. so this is the next best thing."

and then all you see is black.

[wideeyedloner]

I've seen so many posts talking about the Honda scene being a visual metaphor for Deadpool and Wolverine having sex that I want to talk about the film as a whole for a second:

Deadpool & Wolverine is a romantic comedy.

There are a bunch of places (including this one) that describe the format of a romantic comedy, but the basic beats are as follows:

1. Introduction to your protagonist "Okay, Peanut, guess we're getting that team-up, after all." Deadpool and Wolverine opens on Wade digging up Logan's remains from Logan (2017).

2. The inciting incident "I'll do it." Paradox kidnaps Wade and blackmails him into locating a Logan to save his timeline. Cue "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, featured in City of Angels (1998).

3. The meet-cute "You two going to fuck or fight?" After initially failing to resurrect his own timeline's Logan, Wade travels to several other timelines to find another in a montage set to Huey Lewis and the News' "The Power of Love".

4. The new reality/new world "Let's fuckin' go." Paradox sends them to the Void, ruled by Xavier's insane twin sister, where it turns out many other mutants have also been sent. They need to escape in order to save Wade's timeline and try to undo the events of Logan's timeline, which Wade has promised is possible. This requires them to work together.

5. The mirror moment/recommitment "I'm going to fight you now." Logan finds out that Wade lied to him in order to secure his cooperation, leading to the Honda fight scene set to "You're The One That I Want" from Grease (1978). Logan is demoralized but Laura convinces him that he's still needed. He really is; it's his compassion that convinces Cassandra not only to spare their lives, but to send them back to Wade's timeline if they're willing to take a leap of faith together.

6. The crisis/all is lost "They do not play nicely with each other." Cassandra is still insane, so she follows them because she'd like to eliminate all timelines and rule over everyone in the Void. To stop this, Paradox tells Wade and Logan that someone has to cut power to the device she's using at the guaranteed expense of their life.

7. The climax "I got nothin'. Give me this." Naturally, Wade and Logan fight over which one gets the privilege of sacrificing himself for the other. Logan initially wins him over with a heartfelt speech, but Wade gets Logan with a sneak attack. Wade struggles to make the connection between the terminals because they're further apart than the wingspan of a single human, but they're conveniently just the right size for two (ಥㅅಥ). Of course, the choir version of Madonna's "Like A Prayer" is playing here.

This scene encapsulated everything I enjoyed about this film: that it was stupid, emotional, action-filled, filthy, and obviously about romance between men. My husband is straight and he left the theater with me in full agreement that a) this was a romantic comedy and b) they had sex in in the Honda.

8. The resolution "Althea, this is--this is Logan." It's the end of the story, they're about to part ways, and Wade will never see Logan again if he lets him walk out of his life. So he takes Logan home and makes him part of the world he'd been telling Logan he'd been trying to save all movie long.

❤ The end ❤

The Soundtrack I can't tell you how excited I was about the soundtrack. It's full of old, romantic songs. "Only You (And You Alone)" has to be on like every doo-wop or "Best of the '50s" compilation album. "Iris" (oh god this song is old now) was featured in the romantic drama City of Angels. Everyone and their dog has covered "You Belong to Me", and the most famous recent cover has to be Jason Wade's version that was featured in Shrek (2001). Chris De Burgh may not be crazy about "The Lady in Red", but I think it's fucking sweet. I grew up on musicals and LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE "You're the One That I Want" from Grease (1978).

The Honda Odyssey Fight Scene I wanted to come back to this because there is so much to it. I'm bringing up "You're the One That I Want" again.

There are intentional parallels made between this dance number in Grease and the fight scene. It's about the flirtatious push and pull between Sandy and Danny throughout after she's made her superficial transformation into the 'bad girl' at the end of the movie. It's the same in the Odyssey between Logan and Wade. They throw each other in and out of the car as they fight (and sure, go in and out of each other).

Just look at this:

Yup, completely intentional visual metaphors for fucking galore. Logan and Wade even have a post-fight bondage scene.

Also! These scenes end with the couples in moving vehicles.

In conclusion: Deadpool & Wolverine is a violent romantic comedy. Of course they fucked.

[raven-dor]

say yes to me

In which peter pevensie finally finds the courage he's famously known for

PAIRING: peter pevensie x reader, susan pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, edmund pevensie x PLATONIC!reader, lucy pevensie x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: SET DURING THE GOLDEN AGE, established relationship, old friends, banter, arguing (not actual arguing, just reader knowing her worth, peter just stands there), allusion to NSFW, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,342

say yes to heaven

Peter stalked across the ballroom, determined to talk to Y/N.

On the other side stood Y/N, who was determined to ignore Peter until hell froze over.

Susan rolled her eyes at the predicament. It was obvious neither of them would let it go, so she decided to take the reigns of the situation and manipulate their minds—slightly—so that they would stop this nonsense and so Susan, Edmund, and poor, sweet, confused Lucy could finally live in peace. "You have to dance with him."

Y/N scoffed. "I don't have to do anything."

Susan nodded. "You're right; you don't have to do anything. I just thought the High Queen and King should have the last dance instead of the High King and Duchess Mian, but it is no matter. I'll go get her-"

She shook her head. "No, it's-"

Peter approached his siblings, only looking at Y/N. He extended his hand hesitantly. "May I have this last waltz?"

She sighed, putting her hand in his. "If you must."

They walked away, and Edmund laughed at his older sister. "Remind me never to be on your bad side, Su."

Lucy looked up at Susan, puzzled. "But Duchess Mian was done dancing hours ago. She twisted her ankle."

Susan smirked. "She doesn't need to know that."

Peter put his hand around Y/N’s waist, earning a scoff from the annoyed Queen. "You don't have to be this close for a waltz, Your Majesty."

"Don't call me that."

"Call you what? Your formal title?"

He glared at her. "Stop behaving like a child."

She laughed. "I'm behaving like a child? Interesting."

"Y/N/N, I'm sorry."

She smirked, murmuring. "Well, this is new."

He continued. "I'm sorry that I haven't made you feel loved, and I'm sorry that you feel like I don't pay attention to you, but I do." Y/N just stared at him as he kept talking. "I know that your favorite color is deep blue like the sea, I know that you prefer blueberries above all other fruit, I know that you are fiercely loyal, that you want two children because you're scared the first one will get lonely. I know that you treat my siblings like your own, and I know that you are the love of my life." Somewhere along the line of his speech, she had looked down and was staring at his chest. Peter cleared his throat, nerves overtaking his adrenaline. "Say anything, please."

"I can't believe you." They twirled around again, and Peter became confused. Why was she still upset with him? "Y/N/N I-"

"Don't Y/N/N me. I just told you that I didn't want you to tell me like this because it would feel rushed. And here you are, saying some beautiful, heartfelt speech, and you expect me to fall into your arms? Is that it?"

"I didn't think that would happen exactly, but I did think it would go a little better than this-" He stopped, and his smile returned quickly. "You thought it was beautiful?"

"Peter-"

The waltz ended, and Y/N thanked Aslan. Perfect timing. Susan walked out into the middle of the dance floor, grinning. "Thank you all for such a wonderful evening. Safe travels home, and a Happy Christmas!"

Y/N talked to a few guests, thanking them for traveling so very far. But when they had all trickled out, and it was just the Narnian royals, she stalked off as far away from Peter as she could.

She leaned her head against the back of her chair, letting out a deep breath. The night had felt longer than it actually had been, and she always felt more relaxed sitting on her balcony. Her robe did little to keep her warm, so she went back into her closet and pulled out a thicker one, layering it on top. Going outside in the middle of winter wasn't the wisest idea, but the balcony was her safe space. Her door flung open, and she gasped, hiding against the wall, looking for anything near her to defend herself. Peter’s voice echoed through her room, causing her to feel as though steam was coming out of her ears.

"Y/N."

She left her hiding spot, stalking toward him. "You cannot just come into my room unannounced-"

"I have to talk to you."

She shook her head.  "You cannot be in here-"

"Y/N/N, please-"

She put her hands on his chest, pushing him towards the door. "Someone could see you-"

"I do not care." He looked down at her, his eyes crazed with something she didn't want to address at the moment. But apparently, he did. "I love you, and I know that you love me. You're just scared. You don't like that I finally admitted my feelings for you at the wrong time when it looked like it didn't matter." He sighed. "And I am truly sorry for that, I am. But you helped me realize that I love you, and I always have." He walked closer. "I know that you love me too. You just don't want to become vulnerable."

She scoffed. "I am not in love with you. We're eighteen. We just think we're in love."

He laughed. "I did not say that you were in love with me."

Her cheeks turned red. "No, but you implied it.” He looked at her with that stupid grin. “Leave, Pevensie." She pushed his chest again, but he grabbed her wrists. She shook against his hold. "Why do you always resort to this?"

He pulled her closer. "You know that you love me."

She didn't move away, but she didn't move toward him. She merely smiled up at him. "You-need-to-leave." She pushed him once more. "We cannot handle another scandal at the moment."

He rolled his eyes. "I would hardly call turning down Lord Eluna a scandal."

Her laugh was void of humor. "It is when it looks like I merely turned him down because I wanted to."

Peter huffed. "Fine, I'll go." He smiled one last time before he left her room. "But you know where to find me."

Y/N laid back on her bed, staring at the ceiling in shock. She did love him; she knew that. She then spent the next hour contemplating whether or not she should go to him. A moment of weakness struck at 2 am. She couldn't get his confession out of her head. Actually, it was just the one sentence that made her heart flutter. "And I know that you are the love of my life."

Slipping on her shoes, she tiptoed to Peter's room, knocking on the door. No answer. Maybe he had gone to bed. She knocked once more, and the door opened, Peter's groggy face in front of her. She smiled awkwardly. "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head back. He held the door open more, gesturing to come inside. Y/N looked around, smiling, when she saw a painting of the five of them above his fireplace. He closed the door and walked towards the fire, fixing a kettle. 

"Would you like tea? Always makes me feel better when I-"

"I know that you're the love of my life too."

He put the kettle down and stood up, staring at her. "What?"

"I love you. I'm sorry, I just- I had to tell you." Peter walked towards her slowly, a smile growing on his face, and she became nervous. "Why are you silent? You're never silent." He walked closer, and she whispered, a smile threatening to break through her scared facade. "Please just say something."

Peter's smile had grown into a full grin as he looked down at her, whispering back a single word. "Jump."

A chill ran down her spine as she complied with his request. He held her by her thighs as he walked her up against a wall. She flushed. He dipped his head down, grinning boyishly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

She sighed, stretching her neck to touch his lips. "Just do it, please."

He smirked and slammed his lips into hers without any warning. She let her hands travel up the nape of his neck, grabbing his neck and pulling slightly. She gasped for air, looking up at him, dazed and content. "I want you."

His eyes were dark, and her knees felt weak. He grinned once more, throwing her onto the bed. "I am going to prove to you how much I love you."

The sun poked lazily through shut drapes, hitting her eyes. She sighed, opening them hesitantly. Her legs tangled together with Peters and his burgundy sheets. Y/N smiled giddily, knowing that last night hadn't been a dream. Peter's head was resting underneath her jaw, and she hummed softly, putting her hand through his hair. She moved slightly, trying to re-situate herself, and he groaned, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, if that was somehow possible. He murmured in his sleep. "Y/N..."

She couldn't bring herself to wake him, so she carefully grabbed a pillow she had been using and placed it underneath his head. Prying his arm off her waist, she grabbed her nightgown and robe, quickly throwing them on. She looked back at Peter once more, pushing the hair out of his face, and gently kissed his forehead.

Y/N tiptoed towards his door, shutting it gently, and let out a deep breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. She walked to her room quickly and sank to the ground. "What just happened?" She was in shock, that much she knew. It wasn't the kind of shock you have after witnessing something horrible, but her gut was twisting, and she knew it was because they’d changed their dynamic forever. It was a lot to handle by herself.

She needed to breathe.

Penelope galloped out of the stables, and she sighed as the fresh air rejuvenated her skin. Winter was in full bloom, but it wasn't the evil, cold, and dark winter that Narnians were used to. It was a magical, warm winter. The air was crisp but just enough so you enjoyed it. She rode into the woods, only slowing when she saw something eerily familiar. She stopped Penelope and jumped off, the snow crunching underneath her feet.

The lamp post.

Y/N grinned. It was still here. She walked closer, feeling at home with the old piece of infrastructure. She walked further into the woods, remembering the way back to the Spare Oom, as Tumnus so lovingly called it, perfectly. The flashbacks flooded back, and she grinned as she reminisced back to when they were just children. A chill ran down her back as she made contact with a rather furry branch. She kept walking forward, seeing the crack of the door until a voice called out.

"Y/N!"

She gasped, throwing herself out of the wardrobe. Walking back to the lamp post, butterflies fluttered incessantly at the sight of Peter and his disheveled hair. He looked nervous, and she blushed; it was sweet to see how much he cared.

She smiled lightly, walking closer to him. "Hello."

He nodded. "Hello."

Y/N cleared her throat. "Is something wrong-"

"You weren't there. This morning." He coughed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Imagine my surprise when I rolled over and you were no longer there."

She sighed. "Peter-"

"I understand. We don't have to talk about it again; we can just forget it happened-"

"I don't want to forget."

He looked up, tilting his head. "You don't?"

"No. I don't." She put her hand on his arm, smiling. "I had a nice time. I just needed some fresh air, that's all."

He nodded. "Ah." He grabbed her hand delicately and kissed the back, his eyes locked on hers. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." She brought her other hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He sighed, and she stood on her tiptoes, kissing his lips softly. "Do you forgive me now?"

He didn't respond, and she kissed him once more, more passionately than the first. He’d almost melted into the ground. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, murmuring against her lips. "You're forgiven."

"Oh thank Aslan, I was worried for a second."

He rolled his eyes. "As if I could ever be mad at you. "

Y/N squealed as Peter helped her off her horse and twirled her around. She grinned down at him, and he looked up at her like she was the moon and the stars.

A cough echoed through the empty stables. "Are we interrupting?"

Her eyes widened, and she pushed herself away from Peter. "No, not at all."

Peter looked down at her with a humorous glint in his eye. "Not at all?"

She hissed at him, pulling his ear down to her level. "We are in the presence of your family, Peter. Try to hold yourself together for a moment." He smirked, whispering back. "That's going to be difficult."

Edmund sighed. "Are you done?"

Y/N nodded. "Yes, yes, we're done." She pat Peter's arm lightly. "I'll see you at dinner, Peter."

Peter watched her take two steps, and he just couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed her wrist as she tried to walk away and pulled her back towards him. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. She shook her head slowly, and he smiled reassuringly before looking up. He cleared his throat and looked up at his siblings. "Y/N and I have something to tell you."

Susan sighed. "Peter, you did not elope-"

They both turned red, shaking their heads quickly. "No! No!" Y/N looked up at him, and he smiled brightly. "We’re courting."

Susan crossed her arms and decided she would bring up the fact that she knew Y/N had been in his room for a different time.

taglist: @beebeechaos

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— marry me + katsukl bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki bakugou knows two things for certain. that he loves you and that he’s not afraid of anything… so why are these two simple words so hard to say?

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, high school sweethearts, proposals, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader.

⭑ words — 2.2K.

⭑ notes — ok so this is an older commission that was clearly written for valentines day but i loved writing it and its super sweet and i think bakugou deserves some sweetness on his birthday so pls take it and enjoy!! ( thank you to @quaranweeb for letting me post!) - m.list ✩

love is weird. 

love makes you do crazy things. 

at least that’s what bakugou thinks, standing here, in the middle of a cotton candy pink shopping aisle— bombarded with obnoxious and in your face bouquets of roses and cards with love hearts or corny messages inside. there’s an entire day dedicated to the celebration of love— rolling around every year instead of being celebrated constantly throughout. he finds it weird.

but here he is, a little lost and confused in the middle of an aisle dedicated to valentine’s day looking for the perfect bunch of flowers, the perfect card, the perfect little gift for the most perfect person who has ever stepped foot into his life. 

you.

you’re something, someone, worth indulging even on this silly holiday. you’ve given katsuki more love than he could ever ask for and more than he thinks he deserves. so, of course he’d want to spoil you with his big plans today, even if they make him nervous or cause a burning bright red blush to spread across his cheeks and neck just at the thought of them. big plans on the day that couples play charades and pretend that they’re happy for the sake of social media. pretend that they’re like you and him— eternal, well and truly in love. 

katsuki bakugou used to hate valentine’s day , never believed in the commercialisation of it all— nor the kids in class squealing over who had gotten love notes or little chocolates in the shapes of hearts and cupid’s arrows. it almost embarrassed him, to have people he’d never met fawn over him and confess their affections towards the blonde. he didn’t deserve it, he had always thought. 

loving someone isn’t supposed to fix you, it’s not a tool but instead something beautiful to be shared. yet somehow, on that valentine’s day all the way back in katsuki’s third year, you’d mended him. put a bandaid on his broken heart and healed him when you confessed your admiration for him— how strong he was, how brave he was despite all that he’d been through. your speech had been heartfelt, not superficial, meaningful in the way that made the blonde feel like his soul was being seen for the first time. 

you’d taken his hands, albeit a little sweaty, under one of the winding trees outside of the U.A dorms and said. ‘i like you, katsuki, even if you don’t feel the same— or can’t say it back. i want you to know that i like you.’ there was no pressure in your voice or whiny insistence like the other’s who had been in your position…even back then katsuki had known you would love him for the rest of your life if given the chance. and he had known it too, murmuring his mutual feelings back to you under the grumbles that sat heavy on his tongue.

from there, he’d opened up a little more— accepted kisses from your sweet lips without flinching away again and craved the type of hugs where you buried your face into his chest because the scent of him comforted you. you embraced the cold together, passionate embers of your young romance keeping you warm for years to come, and now the chilly month of february has become his own solace. it holds his happiest memories, most of them pertaining to you.

but even after many years down the line with handfuls of valentines days underneath katsuki’s belt— he still stands in the middle of the cotton candy themed aisle, a diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket as he freaks out. he’s on the verge of tearing his hair out, deliberating on which flowers you might like the most for today. this day. the one that could determine the course of your lives together.

bakugou needed this day to be absolutely flawless. he’d ordered cheeses straight from italy and fruits from some of the highest rated farmers’ markets in japan just to make sure his girl got the best of the best. he’d even called up your mother from your hometown, asking her for the recipe to that strawberry shortcake you could never stop raving about. the cake that reminded you of summers back home before the chaos of high school and your pro hero career alongside the booming dynamight. 

‘you’re good to her, katsuki,’ your mother had praised him over the telephone line just hours prior, the blonde could practically hear her faint smile. ‘please, keep her happy. look after my little girl.’

it’s only after he remembers those words, that katsuki decides on a beautiful arrangement of calla lilies, tulips and peonies— the symbols of romance, a declaration of his love to you. 

nothing in this life is promised, but the blonde swears he’ll do his best to look after you just like your mother had asked. 

for as long as you both shall live.

“suki,” you breathe, hand on your beating heart, looking up at your boyfriend fondly. “what’s all this?” 

the minute you’d stepped in from work, dropped your duffel bag and locked the door behind you— scarred, rough yet tender hands had guided you deeper into your shared apartment only to arrive at a candlelit dinner set up in the centre of your tiny living room. bakugou rubs soothing circles into your bare arms, traces his infield and the shape of a heart around them before he speaks— his chest warm against your back while he towers over you. 

“made dinner,” he rasps against the shell of your ear, kissing just under it with the ghost of his lips. 

you turn your head then— away from the flickering candle wax flames and up into the heat of his vermillion eyes. a blistering shade of red like the colour of romance. “i can see that, suki,” you tease with a coy smile, as if you’ve already found him out. “you usually do. but this is…it’s just… it’s pretty. is there some sort of special occasion?” you’re right, he may have gone overboard. 

your special selection of flowers sits at the centrepiece of the table draped in a linen tablecloth, pink wax candles and the finest silverware accent the set up and of course— your favourite slow song plays in the background, it’s mellow tune vibrating in the air around you as you sway with your boyfriend under the warm yellow light. 

the way you stare up at him knowingly has the big bad hero in a shambles. you’ve always been able to get him like this— flustered and shy, shades of rose blossoming on his cheeks like that of a spring bloom. katsuki grumbles with faux annoyance, pinching your side harmlessly. “i just wanted to look after you, spoil you a little since you always take good care of me.”

your all-knowing expression shifts to one of adoration, the creases in your features softening as they’re masked with love for your blonde boyfriend. “oh, suki!” comes your swooning sigh before you stand on your tiptoes and do your best to reach up so you can plant a smooch on his cheek. bakugou grants you some mercy, bending down so you can reach him— long, curly lashes fluttering against his sun-spotted cheeks at your silent ‘i love you.’ 

he still can’t get over that, how much you love him— how you make sure to let him know that you do, in every single way possible. big or small.

“you wanna eat with me or not, princess?” he asks shyly, bristling with happiness when you kiss him again to show your agreement. 

the explosive pro hero is quick to take the rest of your things and have you seated, falling to his knees to undo your work shoes as he places loving kisses from your ankle up to your hand— more specifically, your ring finger. bakugou knows that you’re staring at him while he dishes up your three course meals. you’ve told him before, you loved to watch him cook— it’s the way his arms move and his lips twist into a concentrated pout and his gaze stays honed in on every movement of his knife against the chopping board. 

you’ve told him you admire him. you’ve praised him for every dinner he’s ever put in front of you— tonight is no different. over the orange-yellow hue of the candles, content lights up your pretty face with each mouthful you take of each course. your face twitches with excitement, doing a little jiggle of happiness when bakugou serves you up another plate— playing footsies with your boyfriend under the table all at the same time. when he sets the strawberry shortcake in front of you, you practically shiver with delight and latch onto katsuki’s hand to give it a squeeze. another silent i love you. even as you babble on about your day, your load of interns straight from U.A and how you’d had to clean up their messes. 

and even though you vent between bites of food, bakugou having to wipe the corner of your mouth with a gentle swipe of his thumb— there’s nothing but a motherly smile on your lips and a caring tone laced into your voice while you talk about them. you love your job and your students; you take care of everyone around you and it only makes the blonde want to pamper you more— make sure you’re cared for too.

katsuki is confident in his career as dynamight, as a hero and as your boyfriend— but cowardness creeps into his veins and he forgets about the ring in his pocket all throughout dinner. it was meant to be a big surprise for the end of it all, but every time he looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach or beats so fast he thinks it might tear a hole through his chest. you end up washing the dishes together, fingertips brushing beneath the cherry-blossom scented and soap sudded water in the sink. a tingle runs down bakugou’s spine whenever your hands touch in the slightest, your delicate fingers passing him wet dishes while he dries them for you. 

he can only hope for more sweet scenes of domesticity with you, he dreams of them throughout his day and when he lies next to you at night. katsuki bakugou is so in love with you it feels like he’s suffocating, like he’s desperate for air because all he wants to breathe in is you. all he wants to taste is you. all he needs is you. 

you’re still chattering up a storm, washing the last of the cutlery when the blonde hero drops to his knees a second time, fumbling around in his pocket for the ring.

“marry me.” bakugou whispers, so quiet that you almost miss it underneath the volume of water sloshing about in the sink and your own ramblings. 

“so anyways i was thinking about getting either you or izuku to help train up my interns some— wait what?”

swallowing thickly to level his strained and shaking voice, bakugou tries again. “marry me,” he repeats simply, forgetting his big speech and all of his words about forever, always and perfection. instead he holds out the engagement ring for you to see, smiling slightly as its glint matches the shimmer of fresh and surprised tears in your eyes. “i love you.” 

you nearly drop the soapy glassware you’d been rinsing off, letting katsuki pry it away from your unstable grip before you cup your own face. “b-bakugou! k-katsuki! i mean suki,” comes your reply, each name clinging to the ridges of your throat as your emotions choke you up. “are you serious? w-what are you doing on the floor? get up! k-katsuki bakugou, you better not be playing with me! stand up!”

but bakugou does not budge, setting the wine glass on the floor beside him carefully before he takes your hand with the same amount of care and slides the diamond ring onto the correct finger. “marry me. aren’t ya hearin’ me right? i love you, there’s no one else who’s loved me like you— maybe that’s a selfish reason t’want to marry ya…” his lips, though slightly chapped, brush over your knuckles with each word as if to seal them as an eternal promise into your skin. “but i’m in love with you. always have been. always will be…a-and i wanna spend the rest of my life by your side. so marry me. i love you.”

there’s a moment, a quiet one, where it feels like you’re the only two people in existence before you launch yourself at your boyfriend— swatting at him until he falls back onto his butt and you're able to crawl between his legs. you grab at his cheeks, the metal band of your ring cool against his handsome face as you tug katsuki into a slow and passionate kiss, pouring every word you can’t think to say into it. 

when you pull apart there’s soap suds lingering on his golden skin and a look of adoration etched across the slope of bakugou’s features. you take a moment to admire him, tears free flowing, blood rushing through your ears carrying happy hormones and whisper back— 

“i’ll marry you, stupid. i love you, too.” 

[kefiteria]

to be loved by a poet

char: Kazuha x Reader

tags: establish relationship,fluff, romantic gestures

A gentle breeze caressed your cheek, carrying with it the warmth of a sun setting over the horizon. Beneath the sprawling tree in the Guyun Stone Forest, two mortals found solace in each other’s company. Kazuha, with a tender glint in his eyes, coaxed a melody from a leaf, its tranquil notes mingling with the whispers of the wind.

“How does it sound? I tried to recreate the wind’s voice from our last journey, to share its essence with you.” Kazuha asked, with his smile as serene as the sunset.

“It’s beautiful! It reminds me of those quiet hills where the wind sings softly.” you replied, savoring an egg tart from your plate, a moment of shared peace.

Kazuha's gaze softened as he wiped a stray crumb from the corner of your lips. “In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?”

A smiled crept up your face at Kazuha's poetic words, the sincerity in his eyes warming your heart even more than the sun overhead. You put down the egg tart and smiled back at him, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you both like a gentle embrace. “You always know the right words to say, Kazuha.” you replied softly, leaning closer to him.

“Moments like these feel like they belong to another world, a world where time slows down and all that exists is us.”

With his words flowed like a gentle river, each syllable a caress that soothed and uplifted. It felt as though the very essence of love and serenity was woven into his voice, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and warmth.

“Go on…" you murmured, captivated by the magic of his speech. “Continue, please. I am eager to hear your thoughts, for they bring such peace to my soul.”

He smiled with a tender light in his eyes, and resumed his lyrical musings, each word a balm to your spirit, resonating deeply within your heart. “The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.”

You smiled and eyes softening as you continued to listen to Kazuha reciting his poem. His voice was like a gentle breeze, each word a delicate petal carried on the wind.

“Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. In your eyes, I see a reflection of the boundless sea…A promise of adventures that await both you and me.” Kazuha's words hung in the air, a silence fell between you, charged with the weight of his heartfelt confession.

With cheeks flushed a deep crimson with heart pounding with a mix of joy and embarrassment. You looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Kazuha, that was… breathtaking. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. You have a way of making me feel like the most special person in the world.” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened as he took your hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “If only I could capture this moment in a bottle, to cherish forever...” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the whispering breeze. “The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else.”

Silence settled between you, the rustling leaves and distant calls of the ocean creating a symphony that filled the air. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds and sensations wash over you, grounding you in the peacefulness of the moment.

After a while, Kazuha spoke again, his voice is a projection of a soothing lullaby. “Do you ever wonder what lies beyond the horizon? What adventures await us in lands unknown?”

You nodded, gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sea met the sky. “I do. I dream of exploring new places, of seeing the world through different eyes. But right now, I can't imagine wanting to be anywhere but here, with you.”

Kazuha with his grip on your hand tightened slightly, a silent promise of many more moments like this to come. “Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.”

Slowly you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence seep into you. “And you in mine, Kazuha. Always.”

“And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.” Kazuha's lips brushed gently against your forehead as the sun dipped below the horizon, enveloping you in a warm, golden embrace.

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, you both remained under the tree, savoring the simple joy of being together.

In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?

The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.

Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. Then, in your eyes I see a reflection of the boundless sea. A promise of adventures that await both you and me.

The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else. Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.

And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

ATTENTION DT NATION!!!

In light of all the dreadful bile that’s been hurled at David on social media in the past week due to his acceptance speech at the LGBT awards, I think it would be wonderful if we as a fandom did a little something together to counteract that hate with love. David has helped so many of his fans come to terms with and feel loved within their queerness, myself included, and if you have a personal story related to this (or anything else!) you’d like to share, I’d like to put together a little compilation of these heartfelt messages from the fans to put on Youtube. PLEASE reblog and share this on whatever social medias you have, I’d love as many people to be able to share their stories as possible!

Some guidelines:

Videos should be around 90 seconds or less.

Nothing too probing into David’s personal life, keep it sweet and focused on how he’s helped you

Show some love to Georgia too! She’s just as wonderful an ally as David and I’d love to include her.

EMAIL your videos to me via thefriendlyfangirl@gmail.com. You can also reach me @LaurenRogers on Facebook Messenger (please don’t make fun of me I have to have FB for school)

[ar1mas]

- a rant

no because ive watched this stupid show 5 years ago, and i only noticed this now?? how???

ok. some context first. this is about fox' gotham, a prequel series to batman. or at least a potential one with slight changes. one of those changes is the relationship between oswald cobblepot and edward nygma (spelled with a 'y' for mayhap legal reasons? idfk its silly). whats their relationship like in the show? well...

theyre gay af. idk what to tell you.

okay so oswalds gay as fuck. edwards... ambiguous. totally ambiguous. he had a girlfriend or 2 and a half (kristen kringle, the-woman-who-shall-not-be-named (aka kristen but... blonde? this show is weird), and lee. not comfy counting lee, but technically shes one, hence the 'and a half')! very straight, much hetero (on another side note how tf is oswald the gay one, like i know he wears make-up and shit but eddies all about theatrics and showmanship and flair and hOW IS OSWALD THE GAY ONE NEXT TO HIM?? ok anyway).

so oswald was (is. be real.) canonically in love with ed, ed was.........., and 'penguin in love' is a piece of music composed by david russo for season three in which the whole "im in love with my best friend" thing took place.

that song has been used all over season three, as far as i can tell not once in season four, and once in season five.

.....or so i thought.

because yesterday, while in another obsession phase (of which i get one a few times a year. ive only ever watched the show once, in 2019, when it ended. still dream about nygmobblepot though. i dont dream about media, like ever, but with them, its different), i saw 5x8 to satiate my never satisfied craving of nygmob scenes, obviously skipping the main story bc i dont care about that straight shit. i got to the scene where oswald kills mr. scarface and frees arthur penn from said mr. scarface, after which ed shoots him in the head because thats what one does in such a situation, thought "aw how cute", again, as one does, and then realised.

what was that background music just now? rewinds.... oh. oh haha, its 'penguin in love'. how fun.

WHAT.

WHY IS THAT IN THERE. WHY DID THEY INCLUDE IT.

correction. it wouldve made sense to have it here. they used it in 5x5 for the speech about not backstabbing each other (wedding vows for murderers fr fr), so using it again after their relationship has solidified wouldve made sense.

note how im saying 'would have'.

because it would have made sense, if they used it when ed said "i accept you for the person that you are, just as you accept me for the cold logician that i am. thats why this friendship is great." they didnt, though. they used another equally heartfelt song for that. dunno what its called, it sounds a bit like 'penguin in love' but isnt, not sure if that one has a specific meaning like 'penguin in love' does.

so when was the song used? at 36:08 – 36:17. barely ten seconds, right before eds lines, right before ed kills penn.

...right when penn was sitting in oswalds lap because theyd been fighting for the gun and os fell on the ground.

now. the most obvious answer to "why in the fucking hell" would be because ooh this dudes on his lap so sexy, but no. no. 'penguin in love' is about one specific thing: love. the pure kind. the kind that makes you giddy with butterflies in your stomach, kicking your legs, while youre on your bed, writing in your diary about this guy you have a crush on. and oswald and penn do have history, oswald was more or less fond of penn, but not in love (i mean where would he have found the room in his heart if it was already filled with EDWARD EDWARD EDWARD martin my sweet boy EDWARD EDWARD EDWA-). im also definitely not thinking that penn was so happy about being free from mr. scarfaces influence and not having to kill oswald (oh yeah, the horror. who would wanna kill oswald, the guy with the big ego, who never does anything for anyone without some kind of endgoal- well, unless your name is edward of course) that he instantly fell in love with the guy. i can deal with the homicidal kind of crazy, but that? no. thats where i draw the line.

the next most obvious answer is that it was about oswalds love for ed. more believable, since its what the song was made for, but more believable doesnt mean believable. or likely. because even if i 100% believe that hes been loving this dude for so long its not something he has to think about anymore for it to be true, im pretty sure that itd be very random to suddenly focus on that when oswald was just about to die. so no, even if its what the song is intrinsically about.

so next most obvious answer is- wait. thats it. huh? theres no obvious answer anymore? everything else is brainrot? oh. oh well. its been five years, im sure its too late to worry about it now. what the hell.

im sure you know where im going with this. or maybe not. honestly idk what the fuck im talking about-

youre smart. you know what im about to say. if it wasnt about what oswald was feeling because he was otherwise preoccupied, and it wasnt about penn because that makes no fucking sense, then who was this song used for? who else was in the room?

...oh.

YOU.

YOU FUCKING IMBECILE. YOU STUPID DENSE PIECE OF-

inhale, exhale. no. don’ get mad, you know he cant help it. you know hes totally helpless when it comes to emotions. just breathe. ok.

i hate him. i hate him so much.

if the song wasnt for oswalds sake, it was for his. because i know hes in love with oswald, but does ed? does the producers??

'penguin in love' is about oswalds love. its about his love for edward. its about their love, their relationship. its about edward just as much as it is about oswald.

a-fucking-PPARANTLY, I DIDNT KNOW THAT!! I JUST THOUGHT OH YEAH OZZY BE THE GAY ONE HAHA FUNNY, I DIDNT KNOW IT COULD BE ABOUT ED DIRECTLY!!!

(why am i like this? what is my life? i will never be normal.)

ed has always been the obsessive one. first kristen (and the woman who shall not be named is just an extention of that ofc), then oswald, then lee. and as weve seen with kristen, when hes obsessed with someone, he can become possessive. absolutely not on the scale oswald is on, but still. theres a wee bit of jelly there. oh you have a boyfriend? better get rid of him! oh you wanna run away from me bc i murdered your boyfriend? better keep you right in place and- oh shit did i kill you? ono D:

this is a huge oversimplification, but you get the point. its there. or at least it has to be there because why else do you get so angy that someone is sitting in the lap of your just friend because they were fighting and they ended up in that position totally accidentally? like thats not normal behaviour, for anyone, unless you have possessive tendencies.

i mean its not like penn was a threat in any way. "he wasnt the threat, the dummy was the-" like i understand ed told penn about the submarine which was supposed to be a secret, but come on, like they couldnt make sure penn wouldnt say anything. so why would ed shoot him? its not even like penn was a random dude where that type of thing would be very inconsequential, oswald knew him. hed worked for oswald, and like i said, oswald was more or less fond of the guy. penns just a poor little meow meow, y u kil him eddie? 🥺

unless this fondness was part of the problem. unless ed saw how happy oswald was to see him, got annoyed but let it slide, then used penn attacking os and knowing about the sub as an excuse to kill him. and why would oswald being happy to see penn be a problem to ed? it wouldnt be. it wouldnt be, unless ed thinks oswald is his.

which makes sense. i know im calling him names and calling him out, but like. oswald told him he loved him like 5 times 2 years prior, i dont blame him for believing that maybe theres something to it (especially since that was the point of 3x14, oswald really being in love with him and surprising himself with it). but i thought ed didnt feel the same way? because hes very hetero? because he had a full-on girlfriend before, twice, technically? because-

"the truth is oswald, you would sacrifice anyone to save your own neck. even me."

"like i said! you will always fail, because youll never change."

hm. i know this is a bit off topic, but i just got a war-flashback and... why did ed sound so hurt when he said that? "youll never change." "you would sacrifice anyone. even me." why does he care? they were friends, best friends, yes, but why does he sound like a heartbroken wife who just found out her husband cheated on her again? why does-

"honestly you deserve this. you are opportunistic, your loyalty is.. shaking, at best, and you will hurt anyone, anyone, to get what you want."

"and yes, i was not a good friend. to you or anyone. its why im alone. but i saw you for what you are and i valued that!"

...why would edward nygma, the man who literally said "i dont love you" to oswald, be jealous of even the idea that maybe penn could have something going on with oswald? and why would he act on it if hes usually so careful to not reveal his feelings (unless its about kristen. the original obsession, the american dream, the just be normal, show them you are normal, and people will accept you)? he wouldnt.

unless oswald just told him that he knows he messed up. that hes sorry for it.

and unless that made him think that maybe theres a chance.

"love is about sacrifice. its about putting someone elses needs and happiness before your own."

"you gave up your revenge for me?"

a chance... for what?

"life begins anew."

"shall we get to work?"

and if theres a chance, hes not about to risk losing it. not this time.

so maybe 'penguin in love' is about more than just oswalds feelings. maybe they were trying to tell us that, yes, we see you traumatised gay kid, were sorry this is all we can give you, but here you go, eds in love with him too, but don’t tell the channel. subtlely. just for barely ten seconds. and maybe it can be enough.

nope, it wont be. im gonna sit here crying about the injustice of not having them kiss on screen in the finale as was originally intended for the rest of my life. seriously though, what is this, nbc's hannibal, where im noticing something new details every single time i watch the show, causing me to spiral? no, i was already spiralling. the spiralling was the reason i rewatched the scene. the scene simply made it worse.

so yeah, im done freaking out about a mediocre show that was cancelled 5 years ago and is honestly not worth anyones time (like, its ok. it might even be better than i remember since its been so long. i doubt it. but its ok).

tl;dr: ive only now realised that a specific gay song plays in a specific episode of a show i watched 5 years ago and the only reason theyd include it in the episode is if the dude that was not canonically in love with the other dude was in fact gay, they just werent allowed to make it canon, so they added the gay song to subtlely tell us about it.

have a wonderful day, hellsite. dont do what i did and go crazy about fictional gay people. i know you will though, that’s why im here too. i hate gay people. these two make me homophobic so bad, i wanna gauge my eyes out and skin myself-

[the-ginger-avenger]

My main gripe about how Ted Lasso handled Jamie and James’s relationship in the second and third season is that, in a way, it contradicts Jamie’s arc from the first season. And I LOVE Jamie’s arc from the first season. I love how sweet Jamie became later in the show, but if I have to pick a Jamie, it would be season one Jamie, hands down. Even with him being an egotistical jerk. Even with him pushing back against everyone who tried to help him. Because that progression he had from the beginning to the end of that season was the most heartfelt, emotionally gut-punching arc for me. And then they ruin it.

Because what is Jamie thanking James for in Mom City? For pushing him to be a better player? Even if you ignore Jamie literally saying in the bonfire episode that his mother is the reason he works so hard, the whole point of his arc in season one was that, while he was a good player, he wasn’t as good as he could be BECAUSE HE WAS THE PLAYER HIS FATHER PUSHED HIM TO BE. Listening to his father, making it all about HIM, acting like he was the only good player on the team, was actually holding him back.  And even in the second season, when Jamie talks to Ted about how James keeps pushing him, it’s about the wrong things: how long he plays, how long he sits on the bench, how many times he scores. Every single thing that goes against what Ted was trying to teach Jamie in the first season. So what is he thanking James for? Why did they have Ted go from trying to get Jamie to stop acting the way James wanted him to act, to telling Jamie that a lot of famous people’s dads were “real pieces of work” as if that was the reason they ended up working so hard or became great (can you imagine if, instead of telling Rebecca that she’s not the only one who could see who Rupert actually was, Ted told her that a lot of strong, independent woman had ex-husbands who were “real pieces of work”? It’s infuriatingly dismissive)? And if he’s thanking James for pushing him to be a better player, then he’s thanking James for pushing him to be the player he was in the first season, which they spent at least eight episodes trying to get Jamie to not be that way??

And I honestly don’t think the writers really knew why he was thanking James. You can compare Jamie’s speech in Mom City with Ted’s speech to his mom. Ted clearly lists out what he’s thanking his mother for and what he’s angry with her about. Which works out great because the audience has never met Dottie before. The show only gave bits and pieces about what she was like, or what her relationship with Ted was like, so they had Ted clearly state why so the audience could understand better.

But not Jamie. He doesn’t have to state why he’s angry with his father because the show went to great lengths to show why. Nothing good or redeeming was mentioned about James once in the entire show. That character had maybe a grand total of ten minutes screen time, during which he threw a shoe at his son, screamed at him, got angry when his son wouldn’t let him and his buddies on the pitch, acted like he was going to hit Jamie, and BEAT UP BEARD. So, no, Jamie didn’t have to explain why he was angry. But then he says “thank you” and doesn’t offer any explanation. The show didn’t even give the audience any reason why Jamie should be thanking his dad. Unless, it’s somehow for pushing him. Which again, goes against his arc in the first season, and, in way, makes that whole scene feel like it was put in there solely for Ted’s benefit.

And they could have developed Jamie and James’s relationship more in the third season. Heck, they could have humanized James more, the same why they did with Rupert (who the show actually kept as a villain, who Rebecca let go of her anger towards but was never told to start a relationship with him again. Honestly, the parallels between Rebecca and Jamie’s characters and yet how differently the show handled their arcs makes me go insane but that’s a rant for some other day), but they chose not to which is honestly baffling considering how much screen time Jamie had in the third season. Nothing about his arc should have felt rushed or tossed in at the last minute.

And it’s so opposite from the end of his arc in the first season that it’s like watching two different shows? Because that season one finale? That pass he made at the end of the game? That decision to not listen to his father? That carried so much more weight and so much more character development than that half-baked forgiveness arc.

Because that pass? That was a CHOICE, man. It wasn’t something he did because he was trying to make amends with his teammates. It wasn’t something he did because his current coach was telling him he had to. He passed the ball, he gave up the chance to score the winning goal and the glory that would come from that, even knowing his dad was in the stands, even knowing how angry James would be, because he knew that was the better choice. He knew that made him a better player. (It was also a very strategic move. He knew Zoreaux, and every other player on Richmond, would never even consider that Jamie would pass the ball. You can even see how Zoreaux was fully focused on Jamie. In way, it’s kinda similar to that decoy play Jamie was so against).

And that moment between Jamie and Ted at the end surpasses any other moment they have because it was actually about Jamie, and everything that followed after (except for bringing Jamie back onto the team in season two) felt like it was more for James’s benefit. But that was Ted reaching out to Jamie, giving him that bit of encouragement and praise that his father should have given him. That was Ted, essentially saying “Hey, your dad is wrong. You did a good job." And it’s a very private moment. It’s not in front of cameras or the press or even in front of other players. Ted himself doesn’t even deliver the note. It’s as far from “mind games” as it possibly could be because the season is already over. Richmond has already lost. It’s a “good job, I’m proud of you, now here’s something my son gave me to protect me that I’m now sharing with you”. It’s something short and simple and quiet from someone who is usually very long-winded and convoluted and loud, and it is so much more sincere because of that and you can see how much that impacted Jamie. 

And wouldn’t it have been more impactful, for both Ted’s arc and Jamie’s arc, if Ted hadn’t told Jamie to forgive James? If Ted had been able to heal enough to take a step back and look at the situation without it getting tangled up in his own trauma and guilt over what happened to his dad? Wouldn't it have been deeper for Ted, who later would learn that yeah, his son might end up leaving him but he still has to try, to have actually seen a situation where a son chooses to not reach out to his father? Wouldn't it have been more profound for Jamie to no longer let his actions be dictated by his anger or his feelings towards his father. He's no longer angry, but he's also no longer striving for his father's approval either. He no longer cares if his father thinks he's weak or not  (kind of like how Rebecca stopped letting her anger and hurt over Rupert control how she reacted, and yet didn't have to start a relationship with him? But again, they paralleled each other and yet they took them in completely different directions). They could have had a moment that had the same amount of emotional weight as that scene in the last season, but no. Apparently we should just forget everything that happened in the first season because James was actually doing his son a favor the entire time.

[sinfulseashell]

If its ok, may i pleas ask a question for Yan! Izana, Yan! Kakucho and Yan! Rin? How would they react to a very physically afectionate darling? One that kiss their scars and with out them even noticing always ends up in their laps happily hugging them.

A/N: Thank you for being so patient, and I’m so sorry for the long wait. 🥺

Y!Izana: “How cute.” He chuckled. Of course he wasn’t serious about his little answer considering he would find it quite annoying that their darling would be clingy. At least that’s how he would see it, “I don’t really know how to deal with “physical affection” maybe if they would try worshipping me then that would be better.” He hummed in thought. “Can’t you imagine them begging…” he smirked wickedly. “Anyways, I honestly don’t see why people want me to be so loving in the first place.” He scoffed. “Come on, Me? Loving? That’s funny.” Another smile played across his lips as he snickered to himself.

Y!Kakucho: At first the male wasn’t paying any mind to the host letting them ask their questions but when he realized that it was his time to answer, he sat up and cleared his throat. “I mean…they wouldn’t have to do such a thing…” he whispered.

Host: “-but what if your darling wanted to? That’s the question.”

Y!Kakucho: Bringing his hand to touch his scar a small smile spread over his lips. He was always taught that the mark was hideous even Izana complimented a few times, but to think his darling would go as far as to kiss them and give him affection he deeply craved…multicolored eyes looked towards the host. “I will make sure to forever cherish them…I’ll make sure they will never cry, or get hurt. I’ll do everything in my power to make the happy and be proud that they have someone like me to be by their side.” He smiled.

Y!Izana: “Still a loyal servant until the end.” He tsked.

Y!Rin: It was finally his turn to answer and of course he wasn’t going to be honest since he had a reputation of being an asshole to uphold, but thinking of his darling doing those things to him. Well that’s caused his heart to flutter and cheeks to flush, “What? I’m not going to give some heartfelt speech…this is stupid.” He hissed now crossing his arms over his chest and looking away flustered. Yet…while his heart slammed against his chest, all his mind could picture was how sweet his darling would look giving small kisses to his scars and his delicate he would hold him on his embrace.

[foundress0fnothing]

what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why

Summary: Elain and Lucien make a bargain. When it's time to call it in, however, neither of them remembers what it is—or that they made one in the first place.

Part 1/2. 4.5k words. Read here on ao3 or below the cut!

For Elucien Week 2024. Thanks to the organizers @elucienweekofficial for putting together such a wonderful event!

Title from Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem of the same name. So many thanks and hugs to @areyoudreaminof for betaing this and assuring me that the vibes were good!

By all accounts, it had been a perfect ceremony. Nesta looked beautiful in an elegant gown of ivory lace and silk and Cassian had gotten misty-eyed when he saw her. The two of them professed their love and fidelity in a heart-wrenchingly tender exchange of vows. They had commandeered the River House for the day, turning the front lawn into a lush expanse of trees and fae lights and flowers. There had been heartfelt speeches and strong drinks and delicious food, and now everyone was on the dance floor, celebrating all that they loved after coming so close to losing everything. Nesta and Cassian held each other as they danced slowly, lost to anyone other than their mate; Feyre and Rhys had left Nyx in the care of Nuala and Cerridwen, so they too were smiling happily (if tiredly) as they swayed to the music; even Nesta’s new friends Emerie and Gwyn had managed to make it to the ceremony despite all they had endured, apparently escorted by Mor and Azriel, both of whom hung closely to the females as they moved through the party, talking and laughing together easily. 

And there was Elain. Sweet, simple, quiet Elain, who, hovering at the edge of the dance floor by herself and looking at all the happy couples, wanted nothing more right then than a drink and to be miserable all by her sweet, simple, quiet self. 

No one had noticed her fade into the background of the party as she moved across the lawn, straightening the flower arrangements she had put together early that morning until she reached the doorway that would lead her back into the River House. She stepped through without looking back to see if anyone was watching. No one would be, but still—she didn’t want anyone to think her behavior strange if they did happen to glance her way. After all, there was nothing strange about her ducking into the house for a moment. Even if anyone saw her, they would forget her in a moment. As usual.

Once inside, she walked down the hall toward Rhys’ office. The door was closed over, but a quick push with her hip opened it easily. Rhys rarely locked it nowadays; the worst had happened and he still had his happy ending—why should he worry about an unlocked door?

But since he was the reason she didn’t have her own happy ending—not with Graysen, not with Azriel, not with anyone else—the least he could do was supply her with some disgustingly expensive alcohol of his to get through an evening of mated couples menacing her with their sheer presence.

He kept his best liquor in the shelf behind his orrery, and she let her fingers ghost over intricately wrought planets as she gently pushed the model aside to survey the bottles in his collection. They came from all across Prythian—ice wine from Winter, blackberry brandy from Summer, coffee liqueur from Dawn, fire whiskey from Autumn, honey mead from Day. He even had a few scant bottles of elderflower and lilac wine from Spring and a sloe gin from Illyria that she knew from past experience was better as an antiseptic than something to ingest.

Her eyes caught on a bottle in the corner. Its label was richly colored with maroons and browns and golds, and featured an illustration of a rushing waterfall in the middle of an autumnal forest. The bottle was mostly full, and the amber liquid inside seemed to burn with a fire that seemed to match the inferno Elain felt raging in her chest.

Making her decision, she grabbed the bottle by the neck and stalked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She wended her way through the house to a small staging room that was just off of the kitchen. It was very rarely used—what use was a staging room in a house where the food just appeared with a snap of the high lord’s fingers? But it was lovely—the walls were painted a soft, muted green, and there was a comfortable loveseat tucked into the back corner behind the counters and tables. Elain had quietly, unofficially, claimed it as her hiding place, shifting plants and a small vanity a few favorite books into it until it resembled an oasis that she could retreat to when Feyre’s nosiness and Rhys’ highandedness and Nyx’s infant chaos grew to be too much for her to handle. 

And today, more than ever, Elain wanted some sort of escape. 

She flopped ungracefully down on one of the loveseats, not caring if the silk of her dress got wrinkled. So what if it did? It’s not like Elain was going back out there to try and find some male for the night. With her luck, they would all be mated anyway. Sighing, she pulled out the stopper on the whiskey and lifted the bottle directly up to her lips, taking a long sip and relishing the way it burned as it went down her throat—fire and smoke and peat and honey all at once. 

She waited until the sensation went away, and then she took another sip. And then another one. And then—

“You’re missing the party.” A voice from the doorway stopped her from taking another drink.

Elain didn’t have to turn to look at who it was. She knew his voice, and his scent, and his heartbeat, alluring and intoxicating and branded into the very marrow of her bones.

And she was too tired to care to guard herself against his pull. 

“Well done.” Elain finally turned to look at her mate, her eyes taking a moment to focus after she stopped moving. Lucien was lovely, she acknowledged petulantly. He was tall and surprisingly broad, facts highlighted by the close cut of the forest green suit he wore in honor of the festivities. His hair had been pulled away from his face in an array of intricate braids, and she noticed a few earrings winking at the tips of his pointed ears. Even the scar that cut across his eye, brutal as it was, only added to his allure and gave him a rakish look whenever he smiled. All together it was unfairly disarming, and Elain channeled some of her frustration into her tone as she continued sarcastically. “You caught me.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Another brilliant observation.” For a male with one eye. Not that she would ever say that to his face. That would be rude.

He raised an eyebrow. …Had she said it aloud. She grimaced slightly. Maybe she was much drunker than she realized.

“Do you want me to—should I leave?”

“Everyone always does.” She raised the bottle in his direction before bringing it back to her mouth and taking a long pull, deciding that the sharp sting in her eyes was from the burn of the whiskey and nothing else.

He hesitated in the doorway, clearly uncertain. Not that Elain could imagine why—it’s not like he had made any effort to stay in the same room as her before, always flitting off to see Feyre or Rhys or the humans he knew outside of Prythian. “Is it better if I stay?”

“Do what you want, Lucien.” Elain said it dismissively, but she saw him shudder as the sound of his name washed over him. 

“And what do you want, Elain?” He whispered the question, but she still felt it resonate inside her, the sound of her name and the offer of a choice foreign and familiar and far too exhilarating all at once. Half-consciously, she rubbed at her chest where the resonance felt strongest.

She didn’t want to let go of that feeling. Not yet, at least.

“Have a drink.” She held the half-full bottle out to him as she shifted on the loveseat, making just enough room for his larger frame to perch on the chair without having to touch her.

He sat down and studied the bottle, huffing slightly in pleased surprise. “I haven’t had this in years.”

Elain didn’t say anything at all as he continued turning the bottle of whiskey over in his hand, lost in the past for a moment. It wasn’t her place—and she didn’t trust drunk Elain to approach any revelations that prying might reveal with anything even approximating tact.

He roused himself after a few moments. “Cheers.” He took a long sip, leaning against his side of the chair and closing his eyes as the whiskey hit his tongue to savor the flavors. She wondered if it tasted the same to him—a smoky, peaty, cleansing burn—or if it was more to him somehow. 

Elain thought about asking, but he interrupted her musings with a wry, “Tastes like home,” and she snorted. That was her question answered, then.

She waved for him to pass the liquor back to her, and they sat in silence for a while, taking turns with the whiskey until only a few fingers remained.      

It was easy being there with him—a fact that Elain relished and resented in equal measure. It was nice and objectively the best day she had had in far longer than she’d prefer to acknowledge. But it wasn’t fair—she had made her choices about love. Twice! And both times she had ended up with nothing but hardship and betrayal and shame. 

And this, sitting and sipping whiskey silently with Lucien, was easy. Because he was her ‘mate.’ Well, fuck that, Elain thought petulantly. She was sick of mates. And how annoying it was that he of all people was the only one to offer her any kind of choice? Honestly.

“It’s just that,” Elain started, feeling the need to voice some explanation as to why she had been hiding and drinking, “I wanted a choice. And this is what I get.” She held the bottle of whiskey in her hand and gestured vaguely in the direction of the party before taking another sip and slumping against the arm of the loveseat.

Lucien motioned for the bottle, and she passed it back. Her head swum as she leaned forward, and she giggled at the way the room seemed to shimmer golden at its edges. 

He raised an eyebrow and said, before taking a drink, “We’re alike in that, my lady.” He swayed slightly, and Elain was glad to see that he was catching up to her. “What choices have I ever had?”

“That’s very bleak,” Elain chided him.

“Sorry, did you expect that this,” he said, gesturing to his face, “came from a happy story?”

“I don’t know the story.”

“Surely you’ve heard—”

“Not from you.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “Another time.”

She nodded easily, happy enough to let the story remain unspoken. She did know it—or knew as much as Feyre knew, anyway—and besides, she didn’t want to push if it would disturb the peace that had settled between them.

But she was still thinking about bonds and love and choices, and so she asked, quietly, “Would you choose this?”

Lucien tilted his head, blinking to focus his eyes as he tried to make sense of her question. “Choose what? You? The mating bond?”

Elain hummed in agreement.

“It’s a mating bond.” He looked at her like she was stupid, and she scowled slightly, irritated at his answer.

“But you…there have been—there are—others? Right?”

“I’m 300 years old. Of course—”

“And that’s another thing!” She exclaimed, unsteadily pushing herself to sit upright. “I’m only 24! What time have I had?” 

Lucien snorted and took another drink from the now almost-empty bottle, muttering, “Enough time to fuck it up twice, apparently.”

“Oh, fuck you.” She shoved his shoulder and yanked the whiskey out of his hands. She was done sharing if he was going to be like that.

But she wasn’t mad, not really. The whiskey had made her brain a little too floaty to harbor any real irritation. And it’s not like he was wrong exactly. Although she was mortified that he apparently knew about Azriel.

He smirked at her as she settled back against her side of the loveseat, aware that she was more amused than angry.

Elain wrinkled her nose at his smug expression and titled the bottle of whiskey up to finish off the last few swallows. It still burned going down, although the sensation had dulled since her first few sips. She lazily extended her arm to set it on the ground with a gentle clink, and when she looked up, she saw Lucien watching her curiously. 

“Would you be ready?” He asked.

“For what?”

“To accept the bond. If you’re tired of being alone.” He said it casually while looking up at the ceiling, as if he had no real stake in the answer. 

She wondered if he was trying to avoid scaring her off. She didn’t want to leave—she was too comfortably boneless and warm and hazy to really want to get up. And where would she go anyway? It’s not like she had anywhere else to be except the party. Besides, she couldn’t fault him for asking the question—she had brought up the topic of them being mates in the first place after all. But she didn’t know how to answer him. Was she ready? Tonight had been…good…but still. “I—would you?”

“I don’t want it gone. So–I could be.” Lucien glanced at her and shrugged.

Elain rolled her eyes. “But are you? Actually?” He opened his mouth to answer, and she sat up, raising her finger in his face and cutting him off before he could start. “And don’t lie, I’ll know.”

“I have—” He paused and looked away from her again. “There are the humans.”

“Oh?” Elain studied his face carefully. He still hadn’t looked back at her, but she could see something fond and hopeful in the corner of his eyes and the set of his mouth. His next words weren’t a surprise then.

“They make me happy.”

She wanted to be glad for him, truly. He had found love—he had chosen love. But his statement made something jealous and possessive spark in her chest. He was hers, that jealousy inside her seethed. And she hated that he made her feel this way because of the stupid mating bond. But she was drunk and bold and pissed, so she bit out, with a tone that would have made even Nesta cringe at its coldness, “Then why aren’t they here to celebrate with you?”

Lucien turned his gaze back to her and frowned. “You know why. It would be…impolite.”

“Because of me,” Elain finished, slumping backwards into the loveseat again until she was almost horizontal. She could feel the brush of his legs against hers from where she had splayed them out to encroach onto his side of the chair. The feral possessiveness ebbed slightly at his acknowledgement of their bond and the physical contact, but she was still angry. And she hated how good it felt to touch him. And, gods, she wanted another drink. The edges of her vision were still fuzzy, but she needed something that tasted like fire going down and could burn away the angry ache in her chest when she thought of Lucien and the humans.

He visibly swallowed, and Elain couldn’t tell if it was from their touching or some guilt about the humans in the face of her anger. Her stupid, mate-and-whiskey-clouded brain refused to move past them, and so she probed. “So you’re here alone.” 

She must have sounded too pleased at that fact, because Lucien raised a judgmental eyebrow and smiled meanly. “As alone as you are, my lady.”

Elain scowled at him. “Well, I’m tired of being aloneeeee.” She let herself draw out the last word into a whine, savoring the petulant tone that she knew her sisters would have smacked her for if they had been there in the room with them. It had always annoyed them when she used it to get her way growing up.

And it clearly had the same effect on Lucien, whose judgemental eyebrow shifted into a full sneer. “You’re telling me that you’re tired of being alone? I’m your mate. You could say the word and not be alone today.”

She sniffed at his tone. “That makes you sound pathetic.”

He shoved her legs away from his and said, as she tried to avoid slipping off the loveseat, “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one. You get mean when you’re drunk.”

She smiled fakely as she kicked her legs back out, making sure to connect with his shin before letting her calves settle against his. “Just with you.” And, she thought to herself as he scowled and rubbed at what would certainly be a bruise on his leg, that’s what you get for falling in love with someone else but coming to drink with me. 

A ribbon of satisfaction burned through her at the spiteful thought, while at the same time, some rational part of her brain cringed. She hated how nonsensical it all was—wanting a choice and wanting him all at once. 

And then she had a brilliant idea. She had read about it in one of the novels that Nesta had left lying around the townhouse—a couple that agreed to come back together after taking time apart. The book had been silly but the plan? It would be perfect for them.

“Okay, what if,” she said, hauling herself to a more normal sitting position, although she mourned the loss of contact between them. “What if we made a bargain?”

Lucien was still rubbing his leg, but he asked, “A bargain? Why?”

“For each other.” He looked at her skeptically, and she huffed. “And they call you the cunning one.”

“How would a bargain—we’re already mates, Elain. We can just accept the bond.”

She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips again, but ignored it to explain, “But we would choose it.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Well, you’re not listening.” She leaned over to him and put her hands on either side of his face to draw him in close to her until their noses were almost touching so she would know he was paying attention.

But seeing his face like this captivated her, stilling the words in her mouth for a moment. His right eye, although it was a little bleary from the whiskey, burned with a fire in its russet depths, and the golden one seemed to glow lightly in tandem. From this close, she could count the barely-there freckles that were dusted across the bridge of his nose, so light that they almost blended into the deep brown of his skin. And his scar—she could feel the grooved edges of it under her fingertips as she held his face, and she longed to raise her hand and cradle the damaged skin—

“Okay?” Lucien interrupted her enraptured perusal of his face, confusion lacing his question.

She blinked back to awareness, quickly shoving aside all thoughts of tenderly holding his face or seeing how hot his eyes could burn if she just—no. “So here’s the plan. Because—I want time, Lucien. Time to choose. Time to get to know other males. And you have whatever it is you have with your—with Vassa.”

“And Jurian.” 

Elain frowned at him. “Stay focused.”

He snorted but stayed quiet, so she continued. “And this—” she waved her hand between the two of them. “Gets forgotten. But not rejected.” She paused for a moment, and then said, quietly. “It’s just—I don’t want to be alone. At the end of it all. If—if…” She trailed off.

Lucien scoffed. “If you don’t find anyone better? Okay, princess.” He started to pull away. “I don’t want to be your last chance gamble because you’re drunk and lonely tonight, Elain.”

“No—no.” She kept her hands pressed to either side of his face, squeezing slightly until he stopped trying to move and just scowled at her. She knew he could shake her off if he really wanted to, if he decided to go back to the party or winnow home to his humans and laugh with them about his silly mate who came on to him because she was lonely and couldn’t find love on her own like them. But she didn’t want him to think that it was him she disliked. Then he could leave if he wanted to, and she would steal another bottle of Rhys’ to forget the whole humiliating affair.

He stayed, so she said, “It’s not that. It’s not you. Obviously. Don’t be an idiot. I just—I don’t like the obligation of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Do you like the obligation of me?”

“Not at this moment.”

Elain scowled and removed her hands from his face to gesture at the doorway. She had said what she needed to. “You can leave.”

But Lucien just looked at her for a few moments and sighed. “No, I really can’t. Not if this might be something—” He stopped himself from saying anything else, and impulsively, Elain grabbed his hand.  

“I just want a chance to choose. I just want time. Not to give it up completely. And I want—you to have time too. To choose.” That was a lie—Elain would much prefer it if he just waited for her to figure it out, but she couldn’t ask that of him. Not fairly. 

He nodded, so she continued. “So we make a bargain. For time. And then, if we reach the end of the time and we haven’t committed—officially—to someone else, we do it. The whole thing. Accepting the bond, the frenzy, the big ceremony and the family and all of it. Because maybe the Mother or the Cauldron or fate or whatever was right all along.”

“How long?” Lucien asked.

“How long what?”

“How long until we call in the bargain?”

Elain titled her head, considering.“Ten years.”

“And if there’s no one else—”

“Yes. We do it. Mates.”

Lucien hesitated for a moment, and Elain let go of his hand to grab his face again. “Say yes, Lucien.” Saying his name felt like magic and music and possibility, and as she watched the sound of it affect him again just like it had when he first came in the room, she knew he would agree.

Was it fair, using his name like this to get what she wanted? Maybe not. But it felt right—a way to bind them together without taking away their choices. Elain only hoped that it didn’t end with a repeat of her situation now—left alone while he found all that he was looking for. 

She hiccuped slightly.

Lucien smiled at that and then nodded. “Then, yes, Elain. It’s a bargain.” He leaned in and brought his hand up between hers to cup her chin, a smirk dancing across his face. “And sealed with a kiss.”

He tilted her lips up to meet his, and Elain burned.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting—something gentle, perhaps? Courtly and courteous, even.  But Lucien kissed with a fire that reminded her that he was a son of Autumn, his lips blisteringly hot and insatiable, searing through her until she felt herself melt into him.

There was a brief spark of pain in her head, just behind her ear, but she ignored it, lost as she was in his embrace. It was bliss and agony and ruination and heaven, and Elain privately wondered if she would ever feel something quite like it again.

After a few more moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily, and Elain too found herself gasping as she unconsciously lifted one hand to her lips as if it could soothe the bruising ache his kiss left behind.

They stared at each other, blinking. And then Elain smiled. “Wait here.”

She ran back to Rhys’ office, ignoring Lucien’s confused shout as she left the room. This—the bargain and the day and that kiss—required a drink. She grabbed one of the bottles at random, not really caring what it was, and then returned to the staging room. Lucien had spread out across the loveseat, with one arm thrown over his eyes.

She nudged him and he moved his arm. “Why did you—” But then he saw the bottle she grabbed—the mead, apparently—and smiled, understanding flashing in his eyes.

“Move over.” He shifted slightly, but not enough that she could sit upright on her own side of the bench, so she was forced to sit between his legs, leaning back into his chest.

“Happy, Lucien?”

He hummed in response. 

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see, and pulled the cork out of the bottle, savoring the honey-rich scent that immediately drenched the air around them. “A toast?”

Elain took a sip before passing the bottle backwards to Lucien, who laughed, “To stupid bargains with beautiful women.”

“To beautiful bargains with stupid men.”

She didn’t turn around to look at him, but she knew he was smiling. “Whatever you say, Elain.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Elain found herself sprawled out on the loveseat in her staging room with her feet dangling off the side. Her head was pounding and her tongue felt cottony and thick in her mouth as she blinked blearily awake and tried to remember what had happened last night.

She remembered leaving the party and stealing Rhys’ whiskey, and then Lucien!—she glanced around in a quiet panic. Was he here? What had she said to him? 

But she was alone—Lucien had apparently left at some point in the evening, although she couldn’t quite place when, and so she didn’t have to face him and whatever alcohol-fueled nonsense they had said to each other.

They had shared the whiskey—that she remembers. And they talked about…something. And she could feel the ghost of some fire on her lips—the whiskey, most likely. But everything else was lost in a blur of liquor and warmth and … pain? Had she gotten hurt somehow?

There was a small, pulsing burning behind her ear, and Elain tentatively raised her hand to it. It was slightly warm, but it didn’t feel like an injury.

She hauled herself up off the loveseat to walk across the room to the vanity, hoping she could see whatever it was in the mirror. She angled her neck and swept her tangled hair to the side and—there!—she could just make out the silhouette of a flower tattoo behind her ear. 

Leaning in closer, she tried to make out the details. It looked like … a larkspur, maybe? But why—

And then Elain gasped and closed her eyes. A bargain. Drunk Elain had made a bargain with someone—Lucien? Gods, she hoped not—and because it was the fucking Night Court, she bore the evidence of it on her skin. It was a small tattoo, and  she thanked the mother that it wasn’t some giant monstrosity like Feyre’s arm bargain tattoos—at least she could hide this. Whatever this was.

[ssokkasmoon]

Hiiii! Could you write something for an adult aang x reader? For example, when they got married or had children? (sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language)

HAVING FAMILY WITH AANG

Aang plans proposal carefully for months, wanting it to be perfect . But you can tell something big is up.

He takes you on a romantic picnic at your secret spot ,the first place you ever bonded. Candles and roses decorate the area.

When you least expect it, as the sun dips low, Aang grabs your hands gently ,holding out the ring with shaking hands.

A heartfelt, speech pours from his lips about how you saved him with your love and changed his life for the better.

Your tears welling up at this vulnerable, sweet side as you softly breathe out "yes".

~

He spotted your mother in the front row, misty-eyed already. Next to her ,sat your friends and team members.

The wedding march began playing and his heart skipped a beat. Slowly, down the aisle walked you on the arm of your father, taking everyone's breath away in your stunning white gown.

Your normally stoic face broke into a breathtaking grin just for Aang when your eyes locked. It was like the whole world drifted away except for the two of you.

You were passed off and the ceremony got underway. Rings were exchanged along with lingering gazes. Finally, "You may now kiss the bride!"

Aang dipped you low as cheers erupted, capturing your lips passionately. The rest of your lives together had begun in that moment.

~

You two live together in your cozy home.

He Wakes up every morning grateful to hold you in his arms, still pinching himself this is real. Makes love to you softly before starting the day.

Starting a family was a big step because of his responsibilities as an Avatar,he was scared of not being a good father ,but you decided to try after a year of getting married. You find out you are pregnant on one year anniversary.

He is attentive and caring through the pregnancy, cooking for your cravings and giving daily massages for aches.

Finally your daughter Lea arrives - the perfect mix of both your features and personalities.

Late nights soothing the baby are worth it to see you radiant as a new mom. Your little family is everything.

After few years you give birth to a boy naming him Sokka after his late bestfriend.

He manages being a good dad alongside his avatar responsibilities, he tries to spend more time with his kids.

After your kids discover their elements ,he helps them practice , helps lea control her airbending ability while you teach your son how to do tricks with fire.

he sometimes worries you by keeping himself in danger, but he promises that he will never do something that will hurt your family.

Date nights keep the spark alive as the kids grow. Your love has only deepened through the years.

Your family continues to grow bigger and you couldn't be happier with your Loving husband and children.

© 2024 ssokkasmoon

[yesterdayiwrote]

Trick or treat gewis edition pls?🧡

This is part of a (currently) abandoned WIP, and so I will reward you with a longish (albeit unbeta'd and unedited) excerpt under the cut...

This was my Tour Manager George/Music Superstar Lewis AU...

Waking up with a headache was never a great start to the day.

Waking up with a headache naked was always an even worse way to start the day.

George clutched his forehead tightly, pressing his face deeper into the soft pillow and willing the dull throb behind his eyes to dissipate sooner rather than later.

He groaned softly, the room filling with the distant sounds of honking horns, revving engines and rush hour traffic, his mind racing faster as he contemplated waking up and facing reality.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and George groped around blindly, cursing under his breath as a discarded bottle of Dom Perignon rolled onto the carpet, luckily already drained of its contents. He peered at the screen, hundreds of notifications paling into insignificance as he read the latest text from his boss, reminding him of their meeting scheduled later that day.

George rolled onto his back, finally taking in the sight of the room around him, snapshots of the previous night flooding back to him, leaving him with an impending sense of dread as his memories assembled into a somewhat more lucid sequence of events.

He sat up slowly, rubbing roughly at his eyes with his fingertips, letting out a soft groan as he confirmed his worst fears.

The Presidential Suite of the Central Park Ritz Carlton looked like a crime had been committed within it, ransacked in the midst of some kind of smash and grab robbery gone wrong. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, in a Hansel and Gretel-esque breadcrumb trail from the door to the bed. One set noticeably more expensive looking than the other.

A half drunk bottle of Grey Goose stood on the coffee table beside two shot glasses, one tipped over, spilling liquid across the glass tabletop. Three more bottles of champagne sat unopened and amongst them all stood four shining Grammy Awards. A sign of victory and success and the culmination of years of hard work. It had been worth celebrating.

If only it had been his name on them.

XNDA was at the top of his game right now, finally reaping the rewards of hours of blood, sweat and quite literally tears. Weeks away from home and loved ones on the promotional trail, long nights in recording studios and on video shoots, smiling through the lows to ensure every interview was his best. When he'd stood on stage at Madison Square Gardens the previous night, glowing under the lights as he accepted the Album of The Year award for his debut album +44 (along with Best New Artist, Best Progressive R&B Album and Best R&B Performance ), finally accepted and validated by his peers, George couldn't have felt prouder.

He'd never set out to be a personal assistant, but his organisational skills and his eye for detail had made it a perfect fit for him. It never felt like a chore, instead he felt privileged to be part of the inner circle. In awe of the other man's abilities, but an integral cog in the machine making sure everyone else got to appreciate them too.

To him he wasn't XNDA, global music superstar and icon in the making. To him he was just Lewis. They were friends but more than that they were a team. A deep, complex understanding of each other that had been borne of hours on the road in enforced company. Learning to work together but also learning how to support each other. They had boundaries, although George was somewhat concerned that what had transpired after Lewis invited him into his hotel room to celebrate and delivered a sweet, heartfelt and maybe somewhat tipsy thank you speech to him, had maybe crossed those. He hoped not irreversibly.

George slid slowly from between the soft sheets, rolling his neck and relishing in the soft click. He felt a scratching sensation across his stomach, glancing down in confusion. A tut of disgust escaped his lips as he peeled a torn condom foil from his abdomen, his skin still sticky with dried champagne and, he was sure, "other residue".

He padded softly across the floor, scooping up his discarded boxers from where they were hooked across the back of the armchair, unable to hide his smirk as a vignette of the previous night reappeared in his mind. Deep in the throes of...passion? Lust? Ill-advised drunken stupor? He wasn't quite sure which yet, but the gorgeous sight of Central Park and New York at night had served as a beautiful backdrop that even his hangover couldn't quell the memory of.

George collected his other remaining clothes, balling them up into his arms as he tiptoed across to the bathroom, stepping over at least two used condoms on his way. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at the bed and sighed, taking in one last look at Lewis still sleeping peacefully in the sheets and knowing that when he came back out, last night had to be consigned to history and it was back to reality.

It had to be. For his sanity at least.

He locked the bathroom door behind himself and groaned, dropping his clothes down on the tiled floor, resisting the urge to drop down and join them. The shower cubicle on the other side of the room was ridiculously large, in keeping with the rest of the room, and he fiddled with the water taps, trying to get the temperature just right.

He caught sight of himself in the large mirror, his hips mottled with the soft bruise of fingertips. His collarbone littered with the purple mark of hickeys. He was pretty sure he had a turtle neck in his suitcase, provided he could get to it without anyone seeing.

The shower had done nothing to ease his mind, seemingly incapable of slowing the racing thoughts through his brain or of banishing them entirely. The dull throb in his forehead persisted and he wasn't sure anymore if it was a hangover or just the sheer amount of over thinking his brain was doing.

As he pulled the previous night's clothes back on, the soft wrap on knuckles against the door broke him from his procrastination.

"George?" Lewis' voice was soft, laced with an evident concern. "Are you in there?"

George swallowed down a smirk. Any other day he'd have shot back with a sarcastic jibe, but right now it didn't seem the time. He fumbled with the lock and pulled the door back, plastering on a smile.

"Hey," He croaked, the sight of Lewis in his boxers suddenly far more distracting than he'd realised previously. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and began tapping on the screen, bringing up the day's itinerary. "You'll be happy to hear I planned ahead for you winning." He announced, his smile widening as he walked back into the room. "We have a late start. Nothing planned until 1. Toto's in town as well and wants to meet up so I booked Carbone. You have the interview for radio at 3 and then we fly back to London at 7 but need to be at the airport by 5."

"George."

Lewis' tone had changed, more stern than before. George turned back to face him.

"We need to talk about last night." The older man sighed, stepping across the room but leaving a noticeable gap between them.

"Do we?" George mumbled, dropping his arms to his sides, his feet suddenly becoming incredibly interesting. Lewis tutted, sinking down onto the end of the bed.

"Yes." He insisted firmly, seemingly undeterred about having this conversation dressed only in a tight pair of black Calvin Kleins. "Neither of us were exactly sober last night and I don't want to think I overstepped or..." He tailed off, twiddling his fingers together. "I need to know that I didn't..."

George suddenly realised what he was getting at.

"Oh... bloody hell... Lewis, no." He muttered, stepping closer and closing the gap, the words rushing out of his mouth in his haste to diffuse any misunderstanding. "I'm totally fine with everything that happened last night. You have nothing to worry about." He mumbled, his lips pulling into an awkward smile. "I had fun."

It felt dangerous to admit the full extent of how much he'd enjoyed it. It felt like career suicide to admit he'd maybe even... wanted it? He still couldn't process quite where those thoughts had come from

Lewis glanced up at him with a nod, his lips slowly pulling into a matching devious smile. "Yeah, I did too." He swallowed heavily. "I don't think we should do it again though." He added frankly.

"Oh god no. Definitely not." George agreed with a nervous chuckle, happy to agree to whatever scenario would make things the least awkward. Just two friends doing something dumb together. No complications.

"Okay, well... that's good." Lewis nodded, rising to his feet and grabbing a towel from the sideboard and making towards the bathroom. He stopped suddenly, turning back. "Oh, before I forget." He bit his bottom lip. "I'm really sorry to do this, but I'm going to need you to sign that." He sighed, gesturing towards the desk, a piece of paper laid out with a pen placed neatly on top.

George stepped towards it, his heart sinking as he saw what it was, recognising it instantly. An NDA. He'd stood by enough times as he'd watched other people sign them. He'd smiled awkwardly at all manner of people, trying to hide his own discomfort as they'd signed it all away for just one night with Lewis. He'd just never figured he might be one of those people himself.

"Yeah, sure." He mumbled, waving a dismissive hand in the air. He wanted to seem as cool about the whole thing as possible. "I'll sort it out."

Maybe it was going to be awkward after all.

[youngsadlesbian]

MOTHER'S DAY — carina deluca and maya bishop

pairing: carina deluca x maya bishop x daughter!reader

summary: maya and carina go to y/n's school for the mother's day celebration, where they are moved by her heartfelt speech and special song.

a/n: i'm so obsessed with this one and i really hope you like it! english is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes, guys.

word count: 879

warnings: none, just pure fluff <3

Sat side by side in the small, brightly decorated auditorium of Y/N's elementary school, Maya and Carina's hearts swelling with anticipation and pride. It was the Mother's Day celebration, and they were eager to see what their eight-year-old daughter had prepared for them.

"I can't believe she's doing this," Maya whispered, her hand finding Carina's and squeezing it gently.

Carina smiled, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "I know. Our little girl is growing up so fast."

The lights dimmed, and the chatter in the room gradually subsided as the principal stepped onto the stage to welcome the parents. Maya and Carina exchanged a look of excitement and leaned forward in their seats, their attention fully on the stage where Y/N's class would soon perform.

First, there were poems recited by the children, then some drawings displayed on a slideshow, each one accompanied by a heartfelt message for their mothers. Maya and Carina clapped enthusiastically for each child, but their hearts beat faster with anticipation for Y/N's turn.

Finally, it was Y/N's class's turn to perform. Y/N walked onto the stage, her face beaming with a mix of nervousness and excitement. Maya's heart swelled with pride at the sight of her confident daughter.

Y/N stood in front of the microphone, taking a deep breath before beginning. "Hi everyone! Today, I want to talk about my moms, Maya and Carina."

Maya felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she listened to Y/N speak.

"My mom, Maya, is a firefighter. She saves people's lives and helps keep our city safe. She's my hero, and I'm really proud of her."

A wave of emotion swept through Maya. She had always tried to shield Y/N from the dangers of her job, but hearing her daughter's pride brought a mixture of humility and gratitude. Maya glanced at Carina, who was also visibly moved, her hand clutching Maya's tightly.

Y/N continued, her voice clear and steady.

"And my mama, Carina, is a doctor. She helps people feel better when they're sick. She speaks Italian, and she taught me a song in Italian to sing for her today."

The audience murmured in appreciation as Y/N began to sing, her sweet voice filling the room with a beautiful Italian lullaby. Maya watched Carina's face light up with joy, her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness. The song was a testament to the special bond Carina and Y/N shared over their shared heritage and language.

When Y/N finished singing, she turned to Maya and Carina with a shy smile.

"I'm really lucky to have not just one, but two moms—the best moms in the world."

Maya couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She stood up, her applause loud and proud, and Carina joined her, their hearts overflowing with love for their daughter. The entire auditorium erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating not only Y/N's performance but also the love and support that Maya and Carina provided as parents.

After the performance, Maya and Carina joined Y/N backstage, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"You were amazing, sweetheart," Maya whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Carina kissed Y/N's cheek. "We're so proud of you, amore."

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"I'm glad you liked it. I wanted to make today special for both of you."

They walked out of the school together, Maya and Carina each holding one of Y/N's hands. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the three of them as they headed home.

As they settled into their living room later that evening, Maya couldn't help but reflect on the day's events.

"Y/N's speech... and that song," she said, her voice still filled with awe. "I never imagined she would do something like that."

Carina nodded, her smile soft and tender.

"She's so thoughtful and perceptive for her age. I love that she acknowledges both of our roles in her life."

"I hope she always feels this way," Maya murmured, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Carina squeezed Maya's hand reassuringly.

"She will, Maya. Our love for her is what matters most. We just need to keep showing her that."

Maya nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. Y/N's heartfelt words had reminded her of the importance of their family bond. No matter what challenges they faced, they would always be there for each other—with love, understanding, and unwavering support.

As they prepared for bed that night, Maya kissed Y/N goodnight, whispering,

"You really made today special, kiddo. We love you so much."

Y/N smiled sleepily.

"I love you too, Mom. And you too, Mama."

Maya and Carina exchanged a knowing glance as they tucked Y/N in, their hearts full of gratitude for the love and joy that filled their lives. They knew that as long as they had each other, they could weather any storm and celebrate every joy—big or small—that came their way.

And as they drifted off to sleep that night, Maya and Carina held each other close, grateful for the precious gift of their daughter and the beautiful family they had built together.

[plantdad-dante]

Book #179 - Thud! by Terry Pratchett

(I'm dizzy. If I think too long about it I start bawling.)

This is one of the best takedowns of war, millenia-spanning cross-cultural conflicts, the weaponization of religion for authoritarian or jingoistic purposes, historical revisionism, cultural isolation, the entire concept of intercultural historical grudge-keeping, war.... that I think I've ever seen.

"... and fools made fools of us all as we fought to stop a war, until the disgusted sky washed us away. And yet we say this. Here in this cave at the end of the world peace is made between dwarf and troll and we will march beyond the hand of Death together. For the enemy is not Troll, nor is it Dwarf, but it is the baleful, the malign, the cowardly, the vessels of hatred, those who do a bad thing and call it good."

The enemy is not people. The enemy is in the heads, it is the thing feared yet venerated as it worms its way into minds, seeths and spits and whispers evil into the hearts of men, snarls its hatred until people become things, and things become violent. It warps the light around reality until all that is left is a funhouse mirror filled with monsters, and its symbols, glowing red with wrath and blood- The enemy is the Summoning Dark, and it is always near, just one speech of hate, one call to arms away.

And because that is very heavy, here some sweet little things from this book that I absolutely adored:

- Colon's and Nobby's conversation about Tawnee and her profession. It is both hilarious, and unironically the most wholesome and least offensive conversation about sex work I have read maybe ever.

- Vimes, just, as a whole. Because I love how Vimes, with his unhealthy, workaholic, probably insomniac life, is so dogged about being a good dad. We all have seen the "And if you did it for a good reason, you'd do it for a bad one" quote, and it's very good, but I feel that I have to remind you that in the original context, the "it" he is referring to is missing bedtime storytime with his son. 'nuff said.

- Speaking of bedtime storytime, I adored the scene where they're on an evening walk to the inn at Koom Valley and it's storytime and the entire Watch squad joins in on the animal noises. I am legit tearing up thinking about it, it is so adorable.

- Everything about the girls' night out. Hilarity of the century.

- The fact that "casual DID rep" is an accurate description of one scene in this book.

- Brick, somehow? Like, I did not expect to get the not-very-bright-kid-becomes-incompetent-goon pipeline presented to me with actual heart and a heartfelt acknowledgement and effort to get him clean from his drug use, and give him a future? Like, Brick's subplot is so touching?? And how dare it?? I wasn't ready for this, what the hell!