#make your own stone bracelet

[formeryelpers]

MaeMae Jewelry, 3125 Glendale Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90039

MaeMae is a more than a jewelry store, it’s a place for good juju. All the jewelry is made by hand in Atwater Village by the owner, Rheena Mae. The designs are delicate and they’re also meant to bring goodness into your life. For example, the necklaces are named Super Good Juju, Grace, Align, Destiny, etc. And they come on pretty cards with sayings that make you feel good about buying the bracelet or necklace. They’ll put your jewelry in a nice box.

You can also make your own custom stone bracelet at MaeMae’s Magic Stone Bar. The stones are organized and their powers are explained.

They also sell tarot cards, stones, palo santo, sage wands, smudge candles, face rollers, robes, keychains, etc. They might even have tarot card readings? And they seem to have a rewards program too.

My picks:

Dreamcatcher silver moonstone bracelet: giving it to a friend, like that it says it's handmade in Los Angeles, simple design

Palo Santo sticks, 5 for $15, in a cute bag, ethically sourced

The jewelry is cute but it’s super simple. It seems a tad overpriced but reasonable by Atwater Village standards. However, now it’s easy enough to buy handmade simple jewelry on Etsy. They’re also phasing out the sterling silver jewelry. Service couldn’t have been any nicer.

3.5 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[wheresarizona]

Columba 

summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.

pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end) 

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.

General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.

There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite. 

Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you. 

His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch. 

"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine. 

"No, Sir," you answer.

His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?" 

Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty. 

Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him. 

“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?” 

Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category. 

“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.” 

“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.” 

His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile. 

"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”

The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.

The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.

"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes. 

"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup. 

His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind. 

“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.” 

His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours. 

"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again. 

"I'm sorry?" you ask.

His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them. 

"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.” 

The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Marcus,” you say. 

He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.” 

There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt. 

He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you. 

You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.

He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin. 

"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission." 

"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face. 

From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone. 

It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.

He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed. 

With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat. 

It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need. 

“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.

He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him. 

"Marcus," you whine.

He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed. 

The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.

His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt." 

The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds. 

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.” 

He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you. 

Gods, he’s big. 

There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. 

He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing. 

Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax. 

He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing. 

Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust. 

It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.

“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.” 

His words steal a moan from your lips. 

“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him. 

It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.” 

“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.” 

He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.

“Marcus,” you moan. 

His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.” 

His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.

You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away. 

Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you." 

He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks. 

"Yes."

"Then you shall." 

He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite. 

There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. 

Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.

“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.” 

“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful. 

The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts. 

Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him. 

His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”

This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer. 

Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes. 

“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck

With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you. 

The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.

He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat. 

Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply. 

His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again. 

“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.” 

“And if I don’t wish to send you away?” 

His lips trail along your jaw. 

Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.” 

“And if I never request your leave?” 

He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?” 

It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses. 

“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”

He makes you frown. 

“Why me?”

Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes. 

“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”

It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it. 

“What if I decline your offer?” 

“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.” 

He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind. 

“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?” 

He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.” 

You see no flaws in his answer. 

“I accept your offer on one condition.”

“And that is?”

You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears. 

Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.” 

That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm. 

“I will, my Dove.” 

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

[luveline]

More spencer x hotch's sister? I love her relationship with hotch so much btw! Maybe spencer learns some of what she went through in her past?

“What did you get Haley for your six months?” you ask. 

Aaron shakes his basket of fries. You can smell them from your side of the table, salt and grease from the fryer. He doesn’t need to see you looking, maybe he doesn’t care that you want one or not, he tips half of the basket onto your plate and shrugs. “It was a long time ago, I’m not sure I remember. For our first year together I gave her a promise ring, I think.” 

“I don’t think I can get him a promise ring…” You swirl your drink with your straw. Fizzy bubbles rush to the surface. “A ring might be nice, though. Can he wear jewellery in the field?” 

“One nondescript ring would be fine.” 

“Maybe a necklace.” You stab a few of his given fries on your fork and smile. “I’m very stressed, but he’s been so kind the whole time. He never makes me worry about anything.” 

“Spencer is kind.” Aaron glances to the side as a couple sits in the booth opposite. “Admittedly, I was worried. But you’re happy, so I’m happy.” 

“Six months is a long time for no fights.” 

“Honey, some people don’t fight.” 

You toy with a stray piece of lettuce. “I’m really glad that we don’t, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“It won’t drop. You think I’d let you date Spencer if I suspected he was secretly evil?” 

“There are a few things wrong with that question…” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Okay, it won’t drop. Can we get, um, dessert? Rocky road sundaes?” They’re Aaron’s favourite, so they’re yours, too. 

Despite his assurances, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think about your conversation with Aaron for the days leading up to your six month anniversary with Spencer, which he aptly names your ‘half anniversary’. He doesn’t plan any surprises —he sends you a PDF with different options for everything. Five different restaurants with different options for courses, moods, and settings. There are notes for each place and why you might like them, and there are activities for each one afterwards based on the location. It’s so thoughtful it makes you feel sick. The other shoe looms, and looms. 

You choose a smaller restaurant just outside of the busy city, with a beautiful outdoor eating area on a stone veranda. It’s lively but not crowded, secluded but not completely private. 

Spencer tucks your seat in, and he kisses your cheek before he takes his own. When he does, he looks across the table at you, and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” 

“You think so?” 

“You’re beautiful.” He gives you one of his not so shy, almost cheesy smiles, like he wants to laugh. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“Is it rude to say I want it now?” 

“No, it’s not rude. I’ll feel better once I know you like it.” 

He presents you with a box wrapped in dark blue crepe paper and rounded silver star stickers. There’s twine wrapped around it and bowed, too beautiful to want to open. You look between him and the present in awe. “This is real pretty,” you say softly. 

“It’s nicer inside,” he says. 

You unravel the twin carefully, and you take off the paper to reveal a large, flat box. You put the paper in your jacket pocket, folded primly to keep. Spencer waits patiently. 

You press your thumbnail into the box’s seam and push. 

It’s four pieces of jewellery. What catches your eye first is the sapphires, blue crystal with deep dark hearts pressed into the pendant of a necklace, the heart of a bracelet, and the main bodies of their matching earrings. All simple, elegant pieces, and compiled, their impressiveness is amplified. Your breath catches. You don’t need to be an expert in jewellery to immediately assign a ballpark price tag, and it’s a lot. It’s sort of startling. 

But the price doesn’t matter half as much as the sentiment. 

“Do you remember them?” he asks softly. 

Fourth date. Hand in hand, you and Spencer walked through a shopping centre with iced drinks and churros, and you’d paused for a few seconds to ogle the jewellery display. You’d pointed straight at the sapphire bracelet and said, “That’s gorgeous. I think if I save, I can get it for Christmas.” 

“I know it’s not Christmas,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry, I cheated. But I hope you like them.” 

“Spencer, I love them, I love them,” —you reach your hand across the table— “I love you. Thank you.” 

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I love you, too.” 

You can’t stop yourself from getting up to hug him. He bends under your weight and holds your arms, doesn’t wince when you press the entirety of your face to his hair and breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, kissing his forehead twice, “thank you, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He takes your face into his hand before you can leave. “You like them?” he asks. 

“I love them.” 

His smile is everything. “I really did cheat, I wrote it down when we got home and you know I can’t forget the things I read,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Six months later and your heart still skips a beat. Doesn’t matter that he has an eidetic memory, what’s important is that he wrote it down. 

You take another hug, to his delight, and return to your seat. Your presents wait in a bag under the table. Two books, one jewellery box. He goes for the smaller box first. 

“It’s a ring,” you say, too nervous to let him discover it by himself. “I know you don’t often wear them, but I thought maybe it’s because it’s not something you’d get for yourself, and I think it would look good on you.” 

He opens the box with a smile. So pretty, and exuberantly bright. “Oh, wow.” 

“I don’t know if brands mean anything to you, but it’s Vivienne–”

“It’s beautiful,” he interrupts, “I love it. What finger do I wear it on?” 

“Most wear it on their marriage finger, I think, but you obviously don’t have to do that.” 

He slips it onto his ring finger, turns his hand one way and another, and there’s this joy that echoes all the way across the table from his very core. “Thank you. I love it, and now every time I look down I'll remember why you gave it to me.” 

You spend a lot of time apart, what with both of you working. “I thought that, too.” 

He takes the books next. His laugh is soft. “I’m not surprised.” 

“They’re… they’re my personal copies.” 

He startles at that. “They are?” 

“Yeah. Uh,” —you point at the first— “that’s my favourite, and I think it could be your favourite too.” 

“And this one?” he asks gently, slipping the first underneath the second. 

“Aaron gave that one to me. I know what you’re thinking, okay, that I’m giving something to you I should really keep. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know, but I love you.” You lick your lips. “It’s nice to fall in love. And you’ve made it so easy.” 

He stares at you, lips parted. 

You panic. “It was hard, growing up, and I know everyone struggles but it was hard. If it weren’t for my brother… I feel like it sticks to me and you’ve never made me feel that way. You love me for me. I was convinced nobody would ever do that.” 

“I know it was hard,” he says. 

“Really hard, sometimes, but you aren’t. I’m never scared of you.” 

He reaches across the table to touch your hand. “You aren’t supposed to be scared of anyone, angel.”

Warmth blossoms under his touch. You shake off the fog. “It’s not just about all of that, I swear, I really do think you’ll like them. But if I got it all wrong just lie to me, okay?” 

“You didn’t get anything wrong, shut up,” he says. Spencer stands, his turn to hug you, but he goes about it differently. He tips your head back and he kisses you, and his nose is a pressed line in your cheek as he squeezes you to him. “I’d be surprised if anybody who’s ever met you didn’t love you. Okay? Thank you for trusting me with it.” 

It, and not them, not the books. 

He peels away. You beam at one another. 

“Should we eat?” you ask, feeling pleased and shy at once. 

He kisses you again, one quick peck. “Yes, we can eat.”

[luminiamore]

SOUL, PT.2

basketball player ony x black spiritual reader

first part here.

warnings: bomb dick, vibrating panties (idea came to me last minute)

masterlist

The day finally arrived. The man you had been crushing on for months— the man who sucked the soul out of pussy just two days ago— was taking you out on a date. Your nerves were racking up, your breathing heavy as you stared at yourself in your mirror. The scent of lavender and the burning blunt you just rolled are lingering in your nostrils. It was 5 p.m., 30 minutes before Ony told you he was coming with your outfit.  

You were stuck in the mirror, fixing the baby hairs on your ginger wig as you took another hit. Your head was being hit pretty hard by the effects of the marijuana. Your gold and stone bracelets jiggled around with every movement you made. Why were you so nervous? This is the same man that slobbered over your clit on your clit appallingly not too long ago. So, why were you so nervous? You jumped when you heard a ding coming from your phone. 

“omw mama.”

Another hit. You read the text without even clicking on the message, and if Ony was the type of nigga to go 50 on a 20 road, you had about 10 minutes before he came knocking on your door. You quickly wrap a pink silk robe from one of your hangers on your body, not putting on panties because you have a gut feeling. You already showered, already lathered your body in your strawberry body milk. Your light makeup sat perfectly against your skin, your lips brown and glossed.

The only thing left for you to do was to spray a bit of your Kayali Sugar Candy perfume, and after the final spritz, you heard a light knocking sound coming from outside your room. Your heart is beating ten times faster— he didn’t even tell you he was outside. Another hit, and you ash it out outside your window. 

Your feet could barely be heard on the ground as you rushed to open the door and shit. Seeing Ony outside of his usual attire was doing more to you than you cared to admit. He was in a white dress shirt and black suit pants— all dressed up for the date he was taking you on. His hair was freshly cut, the first two buttons on his shirt were loose, and he had a freshly ripened hibiscus bouquet in his right hand and a medium-sized bag on his left. How did he know those were my favorite flowers?

“Heard you tell that girl you always with that you really liked these.” He smirks a bit when your eyes widen in realization that you said your thoughts out loud. You grab the flowers from his grasp, fingers burning when you accidentally graze his hand, and mutter a small, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in, Ony.”

His aura alone was so potent, so calm and safe, and inside, you knew your spirit guides were probably cheering you on. Your cat’s immediate approach to him, rubbing its head on his legs, was a sign that you made the right choice. Waiting for him to pet her, she plopped down on the floor, and unsurprisingly, Ony crouched down to honor her wishes.

You wanted him to take you now, but you knew Ony was a man of his word. He wouldn’t fuck you until after tonight. You just had to wait until after tonight. You glance up to where a regular clock is hanging above your door. 

5:25.

..Waiting until after tonight suddenly seemed like forever. 

“Not as beautiful as you. You smoking in here?” The smell of it was immediately detected when you opened the door. He smiled internally because he was waiting outside your apartment in his Hellcat while he texted you and lit his own joint. You really were meant for each other. 

Ony thought you looked good enough to eat. Again. Nothing but a thin robe on you, accentuating your curves and showing a slight peak of your voluptuous brown tits. Flashes of you moaning his name and bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue started slipping into his mind— would it really be wrong to taste you again?

Your pretty voice breaks him out his thoughts, “Yea, you want a hit? Or two?” You release a chuckle, the sound making the tall man shiver a bit. He takes a deep breath— patience. He has to have patience. You’ll be moaning his name soon enough.

“Nah, was smoking before I got here. Here, mama.” He hands you the bag he was holding after you got done putting the flowers on your kitchen counter. You were a bit.. skeptical when Ony asked if he could dress you for tonight, worried that he might choose an outfit that you wouldn’t like. 

What you didn’t know is that Ony observed you. Studied your peculiarities and the way you dressed when you walked up into Econ, he wouldn’t have asked such a question otherwise. He had precise knowledge of what to give you, and it was evident when you took the bag from him and found an exquisite crochet skirt set. 

The skirt ended with shades of light to a deep royal purple, and the top had no straps. Flower patterns were all over it. There was also a pair of shoes, white mini heels with thin straps. And when you reached the bottom of the bag, you saw panties, purple, and flower patterns all over it, too. 

“Ony, this is- It’s gorgeous. I-”

He kisses your cheek and gently pushes the items to your chest, “Go put ’em on. Reservation’s at 6:30.”

You giggle and nod, rushing to your room on your tiptoes. In your living room, Ony is waiting for you, lying down on your comfortable couch and petting your cat after she jumps onto his lap. He has reason to believe that you two wouldn’t make it outside if he came inside your room with you. 

You take your time, slowly putting each piece on to not stretch the crochet material. Your last step was the panties, and you couldn’t help but feel that they were slightly heavier than any of the panties you owned. You’re about to examine it a little more, but you stop short when you hear Ony’s voice: “You ready, mama?”

Any confusion about the panties was long gone after you put them on, following the heels. After spritzing your perfume one more time, you grab your keys and head out the door, Ony following closely behind you. 

It was a peaceful ride to wherever Ony was taking you, with only soft Brent Faiyaz music playing in the background and the light-burning sound of the half-finished joint he offered you. At every red light stop, you would let him take the hit until both of you finished it. 

He parked his car in front of a garden-like spot just before you ashed it out, just in time. You are about to reach your hand to open your door but fall short when you hear a click!

“You should know better.” Was all he said before he got out of the driver’s seat and got to your side. As he opens the door for you, he grabs your hand to guide you out and leads you to a person who is ready to seat you both. Hand in yours the entire time. “Reservation for Onyankopon, please.”

The man gives a smile and gestures for you both to follow him. It would be an understatement to describe how beautiful the area was when you surveyed it. It was like a restaurant in a garden of flowers. You are led by the person to a table surrounded by grass and daises, with occasional butterflies flying around you. 

“How did you even find this place?” You ask in complete awe. Ony spent a while trying to find a place he knew you would like. You didn’t seem like the type of person to like classy restaurants, and he definitely didn’t want to take you to some low-end place. He wanted to find something that resembled you. A place where you would feel completely comfortable. 

And well, when you sat down, and a white butterfly made its way onto your awaiting finger... Ony couldn’t help but think he made the right choice. You look like a goddess. An ethereal being that was all his. “I drove by it one time, and it reminded me of you. You like it?”

He hoped you did. The expression on your face wasn’t telling him enough. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth, or else he would drown in his anxiety. All he wanted to do was please you. 

“I love it, Ony.” A bright smile graced your face. You never looked more pretty— aside from when you made those gorgeous faces when he was pleasuring you. 

A server came to take your order, Ony ordering for himself before the woman turned to you, 

“And for you, miss?”

“Could I please have the-” The sensation of intense pressure vibrating on your clit causes you to stop your sentence with a faint gasp. Both of your hands are gripping the table to provide support.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

“You good, mama?” You look up when Ony questions and catch the faux concern in his eyes, his lips twitching up a bit as he almost fails to contain his smile. This was his doing. You knew those panties were different. And you seriously should’ve questioned why he bought you a pair anyway. Fuck it felt so good.

You steady your voice so you don’t stutter when you speak up, “… I’m okay. Could... I have the-the Shrimp Fried Rice, p-please.”

You curse yourself internally when you stumble upon your words. You observe as she reluctantly nods and accepts your order. You would’ve flushed your head down in embarrassment, but in your defense, you had a vibrator going at full speed on your clit. Fuck whatever she was thinking about you right now. 

The minute she walks away from the table, you give Ony the meanest glare you could muster— which, to him, wasn’t doing much. In retaliation, he just turned the vibration up, causing you to yelp silently. 

“Ony! W-why?” You whimper out as quietly as you can so as not to raise attention from the people around you. He just shakes his head, amused at how weak he could get you. 

“You look so pretty like this, mama. Enjoy yourself, hm? You deserve it.” 

He couldn’t get his mind off the events that occurred when you came to his dorm. Could you even blame him? For wanting to see more of those pretty faces you make. For wanting to eat you whole again.

He realized he couldn’t outright finger you in a public setting, not here anyway. He didn’t want to wait to fuck you so he could witness you fall apart like you did last time. He longs for you with a strong desire. Even 72 hours later, the flavor of your juices is still lingering on his tongue. “But-”

“Shh. Just try not to get too loud, yeah? Don’t want anyone else seeing those gorgeous faces you make.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your head falls back against your chair. This goes on for a good while, Ony just staring at you, biting your lips to stop the moans bottling in your throat from getting too loud. He watches as your pretty lashes flutter open and close while your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You rub your lower hips against the chair subtly in quick, fast motions to stave off your impending orgasm. Light gasps released from your throat when you feel a burning sensation in your abdomen. Just when you start feeling like the dam is about to burst and ruin the only thing that holds you up right now, everything comes to an end. 

The vibration, your rubbing— nothing but your ears buzzing can be heard until you finally register what just happened. You don’t have time to dwell on it much because your waiter comes back with what you both ordered. 

“Would you like some water, miss?” And this time, Ony grants you the mercy of answering for you, ears still buzzing and clit still twitching because of your ruined orgasm. 

“She would, please.” When the waiter walks away from your table, Ony almost cracks under the pleading look you give him. He can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out. What if someone got to you before him? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

Your soft and crackling voice reaches his ears, “Please, Ony. Let me-”

“Eat your food, mama. I said enjoy yourself, never said you could cum.”

Giving him a pout is all you can do, and his tone indicates that this is not a subject for discussion. The rest of the night went surprisingly well. The conversation was full of rich details about both of you. Only told you many stories about him, how he got to be a basketball player, and how it was a dream of his since he was a toddler. In return, you told him how you even started your spiritual journey, spoke about your childhood even because you were just so comfortable around him. 

He didn’t turn back on the vibrator for the remainder of the evening, only listening to the sweet melody of your voice whenever you said something or laughed at something he said. It seemed like you hadn’t been here for that long when the bill came. You were truly in the present moment with Ony, so you lost all sense of time. But you caught a glance at your phone— 9:30.

Damn. It’s already been three hours? Ony takes out his wallet and pulls out some cash. He gently grabs your hand to pull you out of your chair so that you and he can leave together. Before you know it, you both are on your way back to your apartment. What catches you off guard is the intense vibration from the restaurant coming back, causing you to let out a loud moan in his passenger seat. Your passenger seat after tonight, if he was being honest. 

Your body thrashes against the seat belt, hips bucking wildly because you are still so horny after being left on the edge like that. “F-Fuck!”

He pretends to be unfazed, his eyes still focused on the road as you release the honey moans contained in his car.

“Can you hold it f’me? You’re almost home, mama. I’ll make you cum as much as you want when we get there.”

He must like torturing you. That’s the only explanation. At his words, you don’t think you ever worked harder to stave off an orgasm in your life. The pressure feels so good, your body bubbling with heat and the pleasure being felt in every corner. You wail when the vibrator hits a particular spot on your clit due to your hips rapidly shaking and moving.

Your breathing starts to become erratic as you release light hiccups. Your efforts to not cum are so intense that tears are falling from your brown eyes. Why was it taking so long to get home?

“I n-need to.. cum. Please!”

How do you do that? Look so divine while your pussy is being overstimulated? He almost wants to let you have cum because you look so pretty while trying to beg for him. But then he thinks about how he doesn’t want you finishing on anything other than the massive tent in his pants, and he figures— you can wait a bit. He’s pulling up in your garage anyway, and he wasn’t going to fuck you in his car for your first time together. 

Your heavy breathing and the sudden slam of Ony’s door are all that remains in the car when he puts it in park. He opens your door and swiftly holds you in a bridal style to your apartment number. He presses light kisses to your cheek, his tatted hand rubbing gently on your wide hips.   

He doesn’t wait a second to devour your lips once you open your door, your moans being muffled by the sheer force of the kiss. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, fitting perfectly as your lip gloss was smeared onto him. Still in his hold, you weakly point to the direction of your room, which he follows wordlessly. Heels are long gone, and been thrown in the hall amid your make-out session. 

He plops you down on your mattress, and you don’t hesitate to yank him down towards you into another brutal make-out session, your smooth legs encircling his waist. You gasp when he firmly squeezes the fat of your tits, allowing him to dip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad. Your skirt rises, and soon, there’s nothing but his pants and your panties separating the two of you. Ony was unusually big.. you knew this when you first saw his print at his dorm. And right now, as he was fumbling to take his belt off, your mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how you were going to fit all of him inside of you. 

All thoughts went out the window when he ripped your damp panties off in one go and immediately started playing with the obscene amount of slick that’s been gathering ever since he came to pick you up. Your cute sounds are heaven to him.

His deep voice whispers in your ear, “You’re so wet, baby. Don’t need me to prep you, right?” 

His fingers are moving rapidly against your clit, as he is awestruck by how his hands keep slipping off out of rhythm due to your wetness. Or maybe he was already drunk on you, desperate to split your pussy apart on his cock. His pants aren’t even entirely off before he’s fisting his fat cock out of his boxers and slapping his brown tip right on your pussy lips, creating wet squelching sounds.

“Could just slip right in with how you’re leaking all over your sheets. You gonna take it, mama?”

And he was right. Your wetness was creating a dark stain on your bed, likely gonna start seeping into the mattress. You sneak a glance down at Ony’s ministrations, and you immediately try to move your hips away. This man was dead-ass walking around with a third leg. It was so big, it actually scared you. How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside of you? Even your last fling wasn’t this hung. 

He immediately pulled your hips back towards him, refusing to let you run away from the deep fucking he’s been craving to give you. “Don’t do that. Take it f’me, baby. Please?”

You whimper, his pleading tone getting you even more wetter. “O-Ony.. you’re too b-big! I can’t- Ooo fuck.”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he sank his length past your tight walls, making you feel every inch of him. Fuck, he was so deep, and he almost wanted to cum right there. He looks down at you and shit. 

You never looked more beautiful, as he said. Your mouth is constructed into a lovely “o” shape, and your eyes roll back so deep into your skull he can see your white eye sockets. You were drooling, the feeling of his dick inside of you simply too much for your tiny brain to handle. He wasn’t gonna last long.

Your wet cunt was so stretched out, and Ony didn’t even give you a second to relax before he started feeding you deep, harsh strokes. You could do nothing but let tears fall from your eyes and wail his name so loud you’re sure you’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors. 

“Gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my dick like this, you love it baby? Talk to me, mama.” He pleads as his face is buried in the crook of your sweat-filled neck, the feeling of your pussy being better than he ever imagined. Than he ever dreamed of. The sounds you both were making were so lewd, so nasty. But it was bringing you much closer to splashing all over his disheveled dress shirt.

“So-so good, Ony! L-Love it s’much.” Your pretty cries make him groan loudly against you; you can feel it vibrating against your chest. Your mind is blanking, and the fire in your stomach that you felt twice today is coming back, only much stronger. Your already overstimulated clit is causing it to come much faster.

With every thrust he gives you, you give Ony a beautiful yelp. And he could only watch your face contort as you struggle to find something to hold on to, to ground you. You’re a bit dense if you think he would let you do anything other than feel every spec of what he gave you. He grasps both of your hands with only one of his hands and presses them above your head.

“Pussy’s so damn good, shit. M’gonna cum. Where you want it, mama?” 

And you respond to him so eagerly, choking on your spit when he presses down on your stomach, his bulge being prominently displayed every time he thrusts in and out of you. 

“Ahhh! M-me too! Inside, Ony. P-Please Ony, cum in m-me.” 

He can’t say no to you, not when you beg him to fill you up with tears like that. The final straw for you was when he forced his tongue into your panting mouth again, swallowing every gasp and moan that managed to fall past your lips. You make a sudden and unwarranted shriek against his mouth, and your pussy splashes all over him. 

He groans as you babble his name repeatedly, allowing salty tears to flow freely down your cheeks. Your body twitches as your pussy creams and squeezes tightly around him, and that’s enough for Ony to shiver as his cum spurts past your womb. He should have slowed down or stopped because now you both feel overstimulated. 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thrusting his hips rapidly against you, the feeling of you squirting on his dick quickly becoming something he wanted more of. He needs you to do that again. He needs you to spray your sweet juices so hard it reaches his face. Your chest is heaving as you try to wriggle your hands out of Ony’s grasp to slow him down. Your attempt doesn’t do much but make him tighten his grip on you,

“Give me another one, mama. Come on, just one more, baby.” And by the look on his face, even you can tell it wasn’t just going to be one more. You were in for a long night.

[allfearstofallto]

How They Mark You as Theirs

Yandere x Fem! Reader

A/N: because I genuinely can't stop thinking about Scaramouche putting his makeup on you! It's been keeping me up at night.

Diluc: With jewelry

You sparkle when you walk into a room. Not just your glowing eyes or large, puffy dresses, but also what adornes your body. A pendant around your neck, large gem rings on your fingers, and earrings, more expensive than most could afford. People wondered if maybe all of your gems and stones were too heavy, maybe that's why despite the fact that you looked so lavish, you never smiled.

Diluc would be at your side, slipping another ring onto your finger. The other ladies would fawn at the sight, silently wishing for a man who wanted to adorn them with silver and gold, but to you, every ring, every stone, every bracelet, and every gem was another lock on the chain harboring you to him, claiming you as his.

Childe: With Bruises

Your neck is littered with love bites, your thighs covered in scratches from where his nails would dig into them, your wrist would have markings around them, from where he would hold you down, pressing passionate kisses and maybe more if he desired.

Even though you were embarrassed by the blatant proof of what he'd done to you all over your body, he still made sure you wore rather revealing clothing. You'd flush with embarrassed, knowing eyes looking all over you, but Childe would smile happily. A hand around your waist would caress you, making it known that he wished to claim you more.

Scaramouche: With make-up

How did everyone know that you were married to number six of the Fatui harbingers? Well, they had to look no further than your eyes, framed in that familiar red shade. The first time he makes you wear it, it's because you watched as he did his own. His nimble fingers held the brush like it was second nature, creating the lines against his eye with ease.

“Come here,” he'll order while still standing in front of the mirror. Before you can ask what he needs from you, he's already squeezing your cheeks between those same fingers, holding your face in place.

The brush tickles as it slides across your eyelids, making you shake a bit in his grasp as you hold back laughter. The smile on your face making his demeanor melt for just a moment, he softens and stops his work, just staring at your features, “I know how it feels. Stop moving,” he'll order. And you do your best to obey.

The sight of your smile is more than enough to make this a habit, instead of a one off thing. Everyday after your kimono dressing, he calls you to him, holding the brush stained with that familiar red makeup.

[thestrawberrygirly]

150 things to do when you're bored 🧸🍰🍓

make a journal and write down about your dreams.

try baking a cake.

draw sanrio characters.

learn choreo of the song 'war of hormones' by bts.

stream bts songs or your favorite band's songs.

clean your room.

play any cute mobile games like Purrfect Tale, Resonance of Ocean, Resortopia, Sumikkogurashi Farm, Rhythm Hive, HelloKittyWorld2 Sanrio Kawaii and more. (these are available on android)

plant some trees.

watch any ghibli studio movie.

declutter your phone.

watch some aesthetic japan vlogs.

read a book.

do some skincare.

make a playlist on spotify about the songs you would like to play if you owned a cute café.

write a book about your dream world.

do pilates.

try coquette aesthetic makeup.

start crocheting.

go for a bicycle ride.

have picnic with friends or alone.

watch youtube videos.

go stargazing.

try skateboarding.

go for a walk and observe the beautiful nature and then journal about it.

try cooking with your partner or friends

make a youtube channel.

start a side hustle.

start blogging.

read your favorite blogs.

listen a podcast.

write a song about your favorite person.

make music on bandlab.

write down goals you want to achieve.

learn new language.

re-organise your closet.

take a day off from social media.

take a nap.

organise your pinterest boards.

write a poem.

write a letter to yourself.

make a cute diy necklace.

invent a cute game to play with your friends.

learn to count in another language.

look through a cookbook and try something new.

water the plants.

pray.

try meditating for 5 minutes.

read my blogs :) <3

draw cute doodles.

make cute things out of air dry clay.

create cute diy stickers.

bake cookies in cute fun shapes.

build a blanket fort and read a book inside while eating snacks.

create a scrapbook of favorite memories.

paint rocks with colorful cute designs.

make cute bracelets for your bestfriend.

write a cute story about fairies.

make homemade popsicles with fruit juice.

watch the sunset or sunrise and take a moment to appreciate the beauty of nature.

go for a nature walk and collect interesting leaves or stones.

have a movie marathon with your favorite films.

have a fashion show with clothes from your closet.

design and decorate your own phone case.

create a memory jar filled with notes of happy moments.

design and paint your own ceramic plant pots.

learn about law of attraction.

do research about the history of something of your interest like 'how it was invented?', 'who started it?'.

create your own font.

play an old online game.

try a coloring app.

work on your wish list.

paint your nails.

take a bubble bath.

start a garden.

make your own short movie with your phone.

complete a puzzle.

write about the most beautiful dream you have ever saw.

organize your house.

make a smoothie.

put an appreciation message on a balloon and let it go.

complete a challenge like 30 day self care challenge, 30 day writing challenge and more.

visit a local art gallery.

watch a lecture or TED talk.

read a self-help book.

read a book on astronomy.

click aesthetic pictures of nature.

make your phone look aesthetic.

give your bedroom a makeover on ghibli studio aesthetic.

create a toothpick tower.

practice writing from your non dominate hand.

write about what a day in your dream life looks like.

take out your pet for a walk.

make something wearable for your pet.

learn about how to beat procrastination.

make a little plushie out of your old socks.

learn a new skill.

make a cute website in carrd.co.

write down 10 things you're grateful for.

sit by a river.

visit a local bakery.

walk around a lake.

scroll on pinterest about nature.

walk in the rain.

watch classic films.

watch fashion shows on youtube.

get a haircut.

drink water, take care of yourself <3

read some beauty tips.

watch ballet videos.

write a quote on moon.

say yes to everything for a day.

read some interesting articles.

watch your comfort movie.

write a fiction story.

make your own calendar.

have an indoor picnic with your partner.

write a list of things you will do with your bestie.

crochet something for your loved one or yourself.

learn graphic designing.

write 10 beautiful things about yourself.

make paper stars.

explore interesting websites.

explore your neighborhood.

make a yummy snack.

make hwachae.

try origami.

write a list of your favorite songs explaining why you love it.

watch run bts.

read some manga.

make strawberry cake.

watch conan gray's old vlogs <3

watch onegai my melody :D

design and launch a cute social media challenge to spread positivity and creativity online.

host a themed dinner party with your friends where everyone dresses up and brings a dish from a different culture.

have a spa day at home complete with homemade facemasks, bath bombs, and soothing music.

design a pretty jewellery.

draw your dream house.

try out guided meditation videos (you will find in youtube).

learn about a new culture.

make homemade jam.

do a random act of kindness.

research and plan a future trip.

try a new type of workout video.

research and practice self-defense techniques.

try a new type of creative writing (screenwriting, playwriting, etc.).

try a new type of DIY beauty product (lip balm, body scrub, etc.).

watch a documentary.

learn about constellations and stargaze.

practice calligraphy.

do a riddle.

[bucketsofmonsters]

On The Altar

cw: kidnapping, size difference, attempted human sacrifice, indoctrination, culty vibes, blood, hunting animals for food, self-loathing, allusions to drowning, heights, non-human genitalia, voyeurism, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, everyone in this is having a rough time

male dragon x male knight x fem reader

word count: 12k

Your breath caught as you stared at yourself in the mirror and a sort of disappointment washed over you. The white ceremonial dress draped across your form, fitted perfectly to you. 

You were supposed to look better than you ever had. Your heart sank a little when realized you didn’t think you did. 

Your birthday a few months ago. You thought you looked better then. 

You should have toned it down, not given yourself such a high bar to clear. It was your own fault, really. 

It had just been your last one. You'd wanted to make it count

Your head felt heavy with the ceremonial braids in your hair and the golden crown atop your head. It matched the rest of your accessories. Golden bracelets and necklaces and cuffs that circled your biceps. 

You wondered if it was real gold. Of course, everyone said it was but it seemed like a difficult thing to manage, a whole set of new golden adornments made every year just for it to be lost. A Sisyphean task. 

You didn’t have to worry about that. Your responsibility was far from that of the clothing and jewelry makers. You didn’t have to do any work at all, a crowd of women ensuring you didn’t so much as lift a finger on your day, bathing you and dressing you in unfamiliar clothes. 

You’d spent the whole day preparing. This was the first time you’d had a chance to breathe. 

Excitement and nerves all swelled inside of you, neither able to snuff the other out. 

Time was flying by and you weren’t sure whether you wanted it to slow or speed up. Part of you wanted to cherish these last few moments but it was almost here. It was almost your time. 

They tied you up. Not that they had to. You weren’t going anywhere. It was just tradition. 

You forgot to treasure your last moments of sight before someone behind you pulled a blindfold over your eyes. 

All you were left to do was imagine it. Being pulled from where you stood on the shore, being dragged under the water, the air leaving you as you fulfilled your duty.

And the town saved. 

They’d do it again next year and again the next, just like they had for decades. But this year was yours. You would save them. 

What a privilege it was to die for them. 

You wondered if the ropes ruined the lines of your dress. You supposed you’d never find out. 

Something hooked around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but flinch. You took in a big gulp of air instinctually, knowing what was coming. 

You braced yourself to be dragged forwards and instead slipped backward as you were lifted in the wrong direction. The ground disappeared from under you before you could fall. 

Your legs kicked, searching for anything below you, but you found nothing. The wind rushed up around you and despite your lack of vision, you could feel that you were rising up and up and up. 

You were meant to be dragged down to the depths and yet here you were, being hoisted into the sky. Claws dug into your skin and you were still blind and disoriented. Fear overtook you. 

You reached up and felt at whatever was carrying you, finding scaly skin connected to the strong talons digging into your shoulders. 

And then, as quickly as you’d been scooped up, you were being dropped. Rocks scraped your skin as you tumbled onto a hard stone floor. The bindings had come undone during the fall and you scrambled for your blindfold, squinting when the harsh light reached your eyes. 

As your vision began to adjust, you saw an enormous figure in front of you. At first, all you could see was a silhouette. Massive wings curled into the figure and the dragon that was slowly coming into focus in front of you stared right back at you. 

It was retreating into mounds of shiny things, gold and silver, old pieces of armour and crowns and candelabras piled into the cave you’d been thrown into. 

It stood out amongst the collection, a hulking creature with scales that shone a dark bronze that matched little of his horde. It was probably 20 feet long, its head cocked to the side as it watched you. 

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to get as far away from the creature as possible. 

You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. If you tried to run it could just scoop you up again. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was activate a hunting instinct. Maybe right now, covered in gold jewelry, he saw you as something for his horde. It was certainly preferable to the alternative. 

He didn’t seem to be eating you, which you took as a good sign. Maybe if you removed the gold from yourself, it would lose interest in you and you could sneak out. If you rushed and were lucky, maybe you could even make it back in time. A sacrifice without the ceremonial adornments wasn’t ideal but it would certainly be better than nothing. 

You slowly lifted your hand to the golden cuff on your bicep, praying it wouldn’t think you were trying to take it. You tried to rip it from the white fabric of your dress, wanting to return home with at least some of your dignity, and your clothes, intact. 

Its head tilted further to the side and then a voice sounded, echoing off the walls. “What are you doing? Why would you ruin such a lovely dress?”

You froze at the noise, looking up wide-eyed at the creature. It couldn’t have. That wasn’t possible. Dragons were forces of chaos. Mindless beasts, nothing more. 

You blinked slowly, wondering if maybe you hadn’t woken up this morning quite yet. Or perhaps you’d been pulled underwater too quickly to notice and this was the oxygen deprivation messing with your mind. 

“Hello,” you responded. 

Its jaw opened to reveal layers of teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. “Hello!”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “What… why did you take me?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. The last thing you wanted was to upset the creature. 

“You were out there to be taken, yes?”

Oh. You supposed you were. Perhaps you’d been sending mixed messages to the monsters of the world. 

You wondered if maybe some town made sacrifices just like you to dragons.

“I was,” you said cautiously. “But not for you. For the creatures of the deep. Fishing is our life, it’s how we survive. We need the waters to be safe.”

“Not… what? You’re… but I thought. So you weren’t out there for me?” He sounded heartbroken. 

“It’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Misunderstandings happen. Just take me back and everything will be fine.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense. You’re covered in gold. You can’t just cover someone in gold and not expect a dragon to come snatch them up. You must have known. You must be for me.”

“Well, I’m not. And I would love to go home now.”

“What do they even want with you?” it asked, avoiding any discussion of bringing you back. “I don’t know much about humans but I know you aren’t water creatures. They couldn’t even take you anywhere, they’d have to come all the way up to visit you every day.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

You’d assumed he’d taken you for the same reasons as the creatures you sacrificed maidens to every year. To take and consume, to feel worshiped. But it sounded like this dragon had entirely different ideas as to why a monster would want a sacrifice. 

“I wouldn’t have to just visit you,” he said. “I could be with you all the time. Take good care of you. No water involved. I’d keep you warm and fed and completely dry.”

“I’m not given to be a pet,” you snapped. 

The creature reeled back and began backpedaling instantly. “I didn’t mean you’re like a pet, I just meant…”

“They were going to kill me,” you said. “I’m a sacrifice. They need to kill me. It’s the only way.”

It took him a minute to understand what you could possibly mean by that. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand. 

You didn’t have time for this. “Just take me back,” you pleaded with him. 

He paused. “They’re going to kill you?”

“It’s none of your concern what they’re going to do.”

He dropped his head low, resting it on his tail with a huff. “Then I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Your heart sank. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, burying your head in your hands. “It has to happen, without it so many more will perish. 

“What if I start terrorizing your village!” the dragon said, with the intonation of someone who’d just had a great idea but none of the content. “Or say I would if I didn’t have you. Then your sacrifice won’t have been for nothing.”

Reasoning with him was starting to seem pointless. “Please don’t.”

“Well, either way, I’m not letting you go back. If I let you go, it would be like I hurt you. No, you can stay here.”

You could not do this, couldn’t argue with this strange creature who was incapable of understanding how vital it was that you returned so your town had its proper sacrifice. 

You stormed over to the corner of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall with a huff. 

He just stared at you, neverendingly, undeterred by your attitude. 

“It can’t be comfortable over there,” he called out to you.

“Leave me alone!” you shouted back, curling in further on yourself. 

He wanted to approach you, you could tell that much. His hesitation was evident and he took small steps forwards before pulling himself back, repeating the gesture over and over until he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

“Alright. I can go for a while. Don’t hurt yourself.” 

With that, he gave you a final once-over and flew out of the cave. 

He was hard to read. The way a dragon worked was unfamiliar to you. The most you could do was take guesses and try your best. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be around long enough to figure out the intricacies of dragon body language. 

You should run. If you were going to have a chance to escape, this would be it. 

As you edged out of the cave, your dreams of making it down the mountain were crushed. There was, technically, a sort of path down the mountain. It was barely a few feet wide with a sheer cliff at the edge of it. 

You hadn’t eaten since this morning. You were scared and exhausted and there was a slight tremor in your hands you couldn’t quite seem to rid yourself of. There was no way you could safely traverse that path. 

You went back into the cave with a huff, waiting for your captor to return. 

Eventually, he did, blood dripping down his face as he dropped an animal in front of you. It was hard to tell what it was with the way it was mangled. It was clearly a fresh kill. 

You stared blankly at him, edging further away and into the cave wall. 

At your lack of reaction, he nudged the creature towards you. “You should eat,” he said. 

“I can’t eat that.”

You prayed he wouldn’t try and force you. 

“Why don’t you just eat me?” you spat at him. “At least it would be better than this.” 

At least then you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that you’d failed, and your village would pay the price. 

He tilted his head once more. “Why would I do that? I’ve wanted to meet a human for a very very long time. I’ve got another friend too, come look.”

He started to wander back into the cave, behind piles of gold and you hesitantly followed him on shaky legs. 

When you reached the back of the dark cave, you found a single, frightened sheep sitting atop a massive patch of grass that seemed to have been uprooted from the ground. 

“I took him from a field. I couldn’t eat him, he had sad eyes.”

“Do I have sad eyes?” you asked. Maybe that was why he insisted on keeping you, refusing to let you go back home. 

He looked at you and as hard as it was to read the facial expressions of a dragon, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as you looked away.

“Not bad. You just look like you're hurting.”

If you were it was because of him. This was supposed to be the best day of your life, the only day that mattered. And instead, you were here, looking at a poor terrorized sheep who was in the same position you were in. 

“So, what can you eat?” the dragon asked. Before you could give an answer, it said, “Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.”

You didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was. He was off again, moving through the cave until you heard the telltale flapping noise that meant you were alone once more.

You looked down at the sheep again. 

Maybe not entirely alone. 

He returned swiftly with a whole market cart in tow. It had piles of bread in it, although they were a little worse for wear from the flight. You had no doubt that some unsuspecting farmers had found it raining loaves of bread as he made his way back. 

You were too hungry to worry about scolding him for the thievery. You grabbed the first piece you could get your hands on and took the biggest bite you were capable of.

Your dragon watched, seemingly entranced by the sight. 

As you chewed your first bite of freshly baked bread he asked, “I did alright this time?”

You nodded, unable to speak through the mouthful of food. 

As you finished scarfing down your bread, you sat in the grass with your new sheep companion and asked your captor, “Do you have a name?”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “No. No one has ever needed to call me anything.”

“Oh. I thought dragons would have names.”

“They do. Just not me.”

You looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What, just you?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations from the noise cascading through the stone under you. “Didn’t bother to give me one. I was the runt so you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t really know how people work. With dragons, the littlest one always has to go. That’s the way it is.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get a little lonely but now you’re here!”

You rolled your eyes, collapsing back into the grass. If you closed your eyes you could pretend you were outside your village lying in a field instead of trapped in a dark cave on a cold mountain. “Yeah, now I’m here.”

The moment couldn’t last. It was too cold, there was no wind. The air smelled different. 

“You know,” you said. “We had stories about dragons. Big terrifying ones that wanted to hurt people. My mother used to tell me stories of Pytho. I was so scared of him when I was little.”

“Oh.” You heard his wings rustle and opened one of your eyes to peek over at him, shuffling uncomfortably in place. 

“I could call you Pytho,” you added. “It’s the only dragon name I know.”

“If you think it fits, I suppose. I thought you said he was big and scary?”

You laughed. “Well, from my perspective, you’re pretty big and scary.”

Instead of being pleased at your words, he reeled back. “Are you scared of me?”

You shrugged. “I was. Not so much anymore. Honestly, I think on any other day, I would’ve liked you”

“But not today?”

You shook your head. “Not today.”

“Well then,” he said as he began to curl up into a ball, “Maybe tomorrow.”

You backed up, leaning against the cold wall, and tried to suppress your tears at the thought that there would be a tomorrow for you at all. 

When you woke up, it was all still real. A dragon snored beside you as a sheep stared at you with the saddest gaze you’d ever seen. 

Maybe, as you looked at it, it thought the same thing about you. 

Pytho stirred from his slumber, immediately turning to check on you.  

When you felt his warm breath directed at you, you realized just how cold you were. Not that you were going to do anything about it. Your only source of warmth was the dragon in front of you and you were going to go nowhere near him. 

You clench your fists, doing your best to stop the shivering. 

He didn’t seem to notice. With the warmth that he radiated, you were sure that the concept of being cold was something that was foreign to him. 

You turned away from the creature. If he wouldn’t take you back, the least you could do was deprive him of your attention.

It wasn’t much but it was all you had. 

The day passed slowly but still, it passed. You spent it wallowing in the corner. 

Pytho left you alone after the first few outbursts. He seemed to understand that you needed your space. You could appreciate him for at least that much. 

As the sun began to set once more, you began to realize just how much warmth and light the day had brought to this miserable cave. 

You curled in on yourself, not far from how Pytho slept. 

You watched him begin to settle in for the night and saw a moment of hope where he tried to move closer to you. You glared at him and he stopped in his tracks. 

“You’re still upset with me,” he noted. 

“Of course I am. There’s nothing for me now. It was supposed to be over and now it’s not. You took that from me.”

“I took your ending,” he said, and you knew he understood.

“You did.”

“You’ll find a new ending someday.”

“But that one was mine. It mattered,” you said, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get it.

“You matter.”

You scoffed. “I did.”

“You do.”

You turned away from him with a huff. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Goodnight, little human.”

You fell into a fitful sleep against the cold stone of the cave. When you woke, however, you felt warm and safe. 

You opened your eyes to find Pytho standing over you, his body heat covering you in waves of warmth, even when he wasn’t touching you. 

“You were shivering,” he said, like it was that simple. You were cold, he was warm. There wasn’t anything else to be done. You hadn’t even known he understood what shivering was. 

You slid away from him, back into the cold. 

He watched you. That’s all he ever seemed to do. Watch you. “You’re mad at me but you’re punishing yourself.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me go back.”

“I will not.”

You tried to sleep again but the cold felt harsher now, crueler. It was your turn to watch him, remember the waves of heat across your skin. 

You waited until his breathing leveled out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming uniform. You couldn’t handle a smug look or excitement. You just needed to sleep. 

You took the few steps between you slowly and gently leaned against his side. 

Almost instantly, without thinking, he curled around you, bundling you up in a nest of warm scales. His breathing was steady against your side. 

You’d never slept better. 

You woke to find his head a few inches from yours, propped up on his tail and staring at you with a soft gaze. 

“Good morning,” he said.

You gave him a hum of acknowledgment back. 

You were wracked with guilt. How could you be enjoying this, allowing yourself even these minor comforts? It wasn’t right. None of this was right. 

You pulled away from him, feeling sick.

Traitor. You’d betrayed them after they’d put so much trust in you. Who knew what was happening to them now, while you slept feeling warm and comfortable. 

“You still want to go?” he asked in hushed tones as you backed away, clearly afraid of the answer. 

You nodded. “I’m always going to want to go. I have to make this right.”

He let out a pained whine and moved towards you slowly, giving you the chance to stop him. 

You didn’t.

“You could be happy here,” he insisted. “Why won’t you just be happy here?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be." 

“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he whined out. 

You pressed your forehead to his. “Does it not matter what I want?”

He let out a huff and hot air cascaded over your face. He was always so warm. 

You pressed a kiss to his scaly nose. “I know you want to help, but I have to do this. Please let me do this.”

And he stared. Just stared at you, like he was drinking it in, trying to memorize you. 

Finally, his face fell and you knew exactly what it meant. 

“If you change your mind…” he said. “If you ever get the chance, come back to me. You’ll always have a safe place here.”

You nodded, still holding his head in your hands. You knew you never would, but it was nice to imagine returning someday. 

You looked down at your dress, dirty and torn, and you finished ripping off the golden cuff you’d started to tear days ago. 

“You can have this if you want. For what could have been.”

His eyes were glassy. You didn’t know dragons could cry. He grasped the golden cuff in his talons, tucking it away far from the rest of the gold, instead next to his beloved sheep. “For what could have been.”

A forlorn laugh escaped you as you looked at him. All three of you had sad eyes now. 

Before either of you had the chance to rethink it, he moved towards the mouth of the cave and you followed. 

Familiar talons grasped your shoulders and you were off again. 

This time, there was no blindfold. An entire landscape unfolded below you and you watched towns and rivers and forests pass you by at incredible speeds. 

Your hands reached up to grab Pytho’s legs, the seer distance to the ground making you dizzy. 

The flight was shorter than you remembered. You wished it wasn’t but as your feet touched grass, real grass rooted in the real ground, you knew there was nothing to be done. 

He dropped you off near the village but still outside of it. It was for the best, you couldn’t imagine anyone inside the town would be particularly pleased to see him. Worst case scenario, they might even try and hurt him. 

As soon as you’d properly landed he flew off, leaving you behind. No parting words, no last look. Before you knew it he was gone, a distant silhouette on a blue sky. 

 Good. You didn’t want him to see what might happen here anyways. 

The walk back was too quiet. You could hear the birds and the wind but none of it was enough to drown out the blood rushing in your ears. 

You didn’t know why your heart was pounding so loudly. This was what you wanted. You were back, ready to repent for the crime of being stolen. 

The first person who saw you was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He wandered on the outskirts of the village but as soon as he saw you he turned and ran back into the town, probably telling tales of your miraculous homecoming. 

You’d been so caught up in your return you had managed to think of little else but now, as you neared society once more, you realized what a mess you’d become. Your sacrificial dress was brown with now much dirt it had collected, ripped and shredded and hanging off of you in tatters. You were sure your face and hair were just as dirty. 

You walked further and further into town, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d assumed someone else would tell you what to do but instead, they grouped together and stared, whispering and pointing as you trudged your way through the village. 

As you reached the center of town, you found a gathering waiting for you. 

You stopped in front of them, waiting as they inspected you. The same people who’d helped ready you and told you how vital you were to the town now looked down at you with thinly veiled disdain plastered across their faces. 

“I came back as soon as I could,” you said, your voice sounding small and weak. 

The man at the front of the group, the one who chose the sacrifices, made speeches about its vitalness every year, spoke. His voice boomed across the gathering. It didn’t feel fair. He was accustomed to speaking to crowds like this. You weren’t meant for this, of course you sounded small. “We chose another,” he said, and his words echoed in your ears. 

Your heart sank in your chest. Of course they did. What else would they have done? At least it meant the town was safe. So why did it sting so badly? 

“I can do it next year,” you said. “Please, let me do it next year. I’m here now.”

The man turned up his nose at you. “You abandoned your post.”

You could feel yourself getting more and more frantic as he spoke. “No, I was taken. I came back as soon as I could, I promise! Please.”

“An example must be made.”

You nodded, searching for a way out, any way you could still be useful. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The women who’d helped you bathe and get dressed a few days prior surged forwards, grasping at your arms. They held you in place as you refused to struggle. 

“This is what happens to deserters,” he called out over the crowd.

You could barely think, barely hear his words. 

The fact that you’d been replaced kept running through your mind. You’d been raised for this. It was all you’d ever wanted. You’d dreamed of it. 

You weren’t so sure you wanted it anymore. 

It didn’t matter anyways. It was too late. You’d left. 

The man chanting to the crowd pulled out a knife. 

It felt like what you deserved. Your chest tightened with guilt and fear. Now it wouldn’t even be for anything. Just an example, nothing more. 

Maybe it was saving them, in a way. Saving them from an epidemic of girls who thought they could escape it and damn the town in the meantime. Maybe you still could die for something. 

A thudding sound echoes in your ears, slightly out of time with your heartbeat. It felt almost grounding, helped you ignore the chants of deserter and heathen. You didn’t have the strength to try and defend yourself, to insist that no, you’d fought to come back. You weren’t even sure you believed that anymore. You latched onto the thudding, anything to get those words out of your head. 

And then the arms that had held you down were being ripped away and instead you found yourself being lifted. This was not the endless upwards motion of your dragon. Instead, you found yourself hoisted onto the back of a horse. 

Hard metal dug into your side and you looked up to see a knight in full armour, his face hidden by his helm and his arm hooked around your waist. 

You pounded your fists against him, fighting to be let go. “No!” you shouted. “I need to do this. I need to be forgiven.”

The knight's grip on you tightened and the horse you were both on sped up. Neither seemed to find your fighting anything more than mildly inconvenient. 

Before long, your struggle slowed. You were becoming very used to the intense frustration that accompanied being trapped, being taken away with no regard for what you wanted. 

You lost track of time as you rode. You’d just been trying to make things right, even if you couldn’t do what you were meant to do. The universe seemed intent on stopping you. 

Maybe you’d done something wrong, offended the cosmos so severely you were no longer permitted to do what you were meant for. 

As the horse slowed, the knight's grip on you loosened. 

He set you gently on the ground in the midst of this unfamiliar forest and you glared up at him. 

“Can I go now?” you hissed. “Or am I still being kidnapped?”

“There were going to kill you,” he said as he dismounted his horse.

“You don’t know what was going on,” you insisted. “Maybe I deserved it.”

He rummaged around in his saddlebag. “Maybe.”

You reeled back a little, not expecting him to agree with you. “Oh. Can I go back then?”

“No. Here, eat this.” He held out some dried meat in your direction.

You refused it. It would be a waste anyways. 

“Why can’t I go?” you asked. If he didn’t even know if you were in the right, what reason could he possibly have for taking you? 

“I’ve heard about your village, you know. I was worried I was too late. They’ve messed with your mind. It’s not your fault but you’re not making good choices right now.”

“My choices are fine,” you shouted. “Who are you to decide that? You don’t even know what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I shirked my duty. I should have been there.”

“For what?”

“To be their sacrifice.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You did, but he couldn’t know that. It was beyond him. 

It was hard to remember where you were. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you home? Or were you? You knew that you should be. Why wouldn’t you be? 

You saw your dress, dirty and crumpled and ripped. You’d ruined it. How would you go through with the ritual now? 

Something in you always knew you’d ruin it somehow. And now things were all wrong. Who else’s fault could it be?

The knight pushed some food at you and once again you were in a forest far from home. 

You threw it back at him. “I said I don’t want it. Aren’t you going to eat?”

That damn helmet stared back at you for a moment before he said, “Maybe later.”

“Do you have a name?” you asked, desperate to get anything from him. 

“Phillip.”

You missed your dragon. At least you could see his face and try to figure out what he was thinking. 

He got up without warning, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement. 

He froze for a second as you did, staring down at you before continuing on, trudging through the nearby bushes. 

He returned in a few moments. 

“There’s a pond back there,” he said, gesturing towards the foliage. “It’s not too cold, you should be fine.” He started to move back towards his horse before pausing for a moment and adding, “It might make you feel better.”

You went to inspect this pond as he tended to his horse. 

It was a small pond, the trees around it curling over the top of it, mostly blocking out the sun. You dipped your foot into the water and found that the knight was technically right, it wasn’t cold enough to hurt you. It still wasn’t a pleasant temperature but right now it was the best you were going to get. 

As you tested out the water, you watched from behind the bushes as he mounted his horse and started to ride away. 

It made sense. You wouldn’t want to keep you around either. At this point, you were just ungrateful dead weight. 

You considered taking off your dress and attempting to keep it dry but at this point, it consisted more of rips and dirt than anything. Dousing it in water might do it some good. 

You sunk into the cold water, doing your best to get the dirt out of your hair. As long as you were in here, you might as well attempt to get clean. 

You wondered if you could find your way back to Pytho’s cave. If you could manage to get close you were sure he’d be able to find you. At least you hoped he would. It was the only place you had left to go. 

You had no real desire to prolong the bath in the cold water. You just didn’t know what came next. After this, where could you even go?

Your fingers began to prune and you know you couldn’t do this forever. 

As you exited the pool in your sopping wet, muddy, ripped ceremonial dress, you decided you needed to go. You weren’t sure if you were trying to find your village or Pytho but it didn’t really matter, you had no sense of what direction either was in. You just needed to be headed somewhere. 

You made it half a dozen steps before you collapsed. 

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until he was right in front of you, staring down at you collapsed in the dirt in your soaking-wet dress. 

You watched his helmet as he looks you up and down, lingering a second too long on your chest before snapping his head back up towards your face.

He cleared his throat and you would have bet money that his face was bright red beneath his helm. 

“Apologies, my lady. I thought you might want some fresh clothes.”

He held out some folded clothes with a pair of leather boots balanced atop them. 

No. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the last outfit you ever wore. It felt like a betrayal to take it off. 

“No thank you,” you said from your spot on the ground. “I’ll stick with what I have.”

“I know they’re not much but they’ll fit.”

You shook your head again. 

You heard a quiet, muffled sigh escape him. “The sun is setting, you’ll freeze to death if you wear those. You can change back in the morning if you really want to.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You took the clothes with a sigh. “Fine. Turn around.”

You’d never seen him move so fast. It was like he was afraid you’d start stripping the second you decided to change. 

A giggle escaped you and you watched his shoulders tense up at the noise. It seemed like the two of you were having entirely different kinds of crises. 

You got dressed as quickly as you could, a chill starting to set deep in your bones. He’d found you a faded red tunic that hung midway down your thighs and some pants that miraculously fit pretty well. 

The boots had thick woolen socks inside and putting them on felt like heaven. You swore you’d never wear pretty shoes again as long as these were an option. 

You didn’t bother telling Phillip he could turn around. He’d figure it out in his own time. Or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really your problem. 

As you got ready to sleep, you watched him, keeping track of time as best you could. It took him about twenty minutes before he finally peeked over his shoulder, finding you sitting with your back against a tree. 

You gave him a halfhearted smile and he cleared his throat. “You should rest now,” he said. “We have to leave at dawn.”

“And when are you going to stop dragging me around with you?”

“Whenever you’d like. I can drop you off at a town tomorrow. I just have something I need to attend to first”

You knew by now not to get hopeful. “Can you drop me off at my town?” You kept asking but you didn’t know what the point of it was. There was nothing for you there anymore. The most you could do was repent. Pay for what you’d done. But for what?

“I can drop you off at any other town.”

You slid down the tree, basically lying on the ground. “Alright. 

He spent the rest of the night in full armour and you wondered if maybe part of him thought you might attack him. Either that or these woods were more dangerous than you knew. 

He awoke you the second the sun began to peek over the horizon and you groaned, trying to kick him away from you. 

He would not be deterred, coaxing you up and onto the back of his horse. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around him for stability with minimal protest. You didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. 

It took you too long to realize you'd left your dress behind, discarded in the mud.

The ride was much more comfortable when you weren’t being held captive. 

Forests and plains and mountains passed, all foreign and strange. You’d never left your town before, never seen anything like this. Even in your bad mood, it was hard not to admire it. 

Your heart stopped as you noticed one of the mountains that the two of you were fast approaching seemed familiar. 

It had taken you too long to recognize it but in your defense, you were used to seeing it from a cave right at the peak.

You shut your eyes and prayed to anyone that might be listening that you’d ride right by it. 

If the gods were listening, they had a special hatred for you. You weren’t sure you could blame them. 

 Phillip lead the horse along the precarious path you’d deemed too dangerous only days ago.

You needed to figure out a plan but you had nothing. 

With only a few minutes left before you reached the peak, Phillip dismounted, holding out his hand to help you down. You half considered trying to take his horse to go warn Pytho but you had no real idea how to ride one on your own and you couldn’t shake the feeling you’d ride the pair of you right off the cliff edge. The poor creature didn’t deserve that. 

You dismounted and Phillip nodded, getting right back on the horse. “You stay here, I won’t be long.”

“No,” you yelled, a little louder than was necessary. Phillip flinched, probably worried it had echoed up the mountain and warned the dragon at the top of his presence. You hoped it had. “I want to come.”

“These are dangerous lands, m’lady. I will not let you get hurt.”

You scowled at him. “You know, people won’t stop saying that to me.”

The helm stared down at you, unwavering, before he gave his horse a swift kick in the side and it rode up the narrow path. 

You took off in a dead sprint after him. 

You neared the top of the path, panting, just in time to see Phillip creeping into the cave, sword drawn and at the ready. 

You had no idea what to do. You couldn’t just stand here and do nothing but you felt frozen in place. 

The problem was, you’d rather neither of them were hurt. It felt like an impossible situation. 

Pytho needed to be warned but as gentle as he’d been with you, he could decimate Phillip in a second. That much you were certain of, no matter how competent of a knight Phillip might be. 

You finally willed yourself to move, darting into the cave to see Pytho standing over Phillip, who had his sword positioned right at the dragon’s neck. 

Before you could even think, you shouted, “Don’t hurt him!”

You had no real idea which of them you were talking to but both stopped in their tracks, heads spinning towards you. 

For one moment you were terrified one would take advantage of the distraction to harm the other and then their blood would be on your hands. Before the worry had time to settle, Pytho swung his tail around, hitting Phillip over the head with it. 

He instantly collapsed to the ground, going limp. 

You rummaged around in the saddlebag as Pytho stared at you. When you finally found rope you raised it triumphantly. 

Pytho’s gaze followed it up. “What is that?” he asked as you rushed towards the knight. 

“It’s rope,” you informed him as you tried and failed to drag him across the floor. As soon as Pytho realized what you were doing, he swept him effortlessly into the corner for you. 

You bound his hands behind his back, tethering him to some heavy golden chair that would at least slow any escape he tried to make. 

“You’re back,” Pytho said behind you, his voice airy and incredulous and so very grateful. 

You turned from binding the knight with a big smile. “I am. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back but this guy led me right here,” he said, nudging at him with your foot. 

He didn’t seem to hear any of it. “I can’t believe you’re back.” His eyes were wide, refusing to leave you. 

You nodded, grabbing Phillip’s abandoned sword and throwing it right off the mountain, listening to the clanging noises as it bounced all the way down. You glanced nervously at Phillip as you returned, leading his horse over by the sheep. “I am. This is so rude but can you please go for a couple minutes? If you’re still here when he wakes I’m afraid he might perish from fright.”

He nodded. “If that’s what you want. I will be back.” 

He bumped his head lightly into you before heading out, flying off somewhere. 

And not a moment too soon. 

The knight stirred from his slumber. The only way you could tell was by how his helm slowly moved up, rising to meet your gaze. 

The second he did he tried to move before realizing he was bound. “Why?” he asked you. “I don’t understand, you… Was this all a trap?” His voice cracked and he sounded genuinely hurt by the betrayal. 

You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as he struggled against his bindings. Quiet fearful noises escaped him as he glanced between you and Pytho’s horde.

You shushed him, your hands up in a quiet surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’ll be just fine.”

“We? You’re in cahoots with this monster?”

You bristled at the harsh langue but did your best to be forgiving to the frightened man. 

“He’s not a monster. He helped me. Why are you even here? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what I heard. From what I’ve heard he’s been snatching up women.”

You groaned, rubbing at your temples. As you did, the knight leaned forward as much as he could and even through the stoic armour, you could tell exactly when he realized. 

“No. But… but you….”

“I just wanted to help my people. I don’t know why every creature within a thousand miles is trying to stop me.”

“If he took you, how did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I asked him to let me go, to be able to make my own choices, and he did. Because he respects me and didn’t kidnap me on the back of a horse!” You tactfully decided to omit the original kidnapping. At least for now. You had a feeling it wouldn’t help your case. 

“Please, it’s a dragon, it…”

“He! He’s a dragon! And at least he’s allowed me to make decisions.”

He reeled back. “I… you were going to get yourself killed. I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed. It isn’t right.”

“And it’s not your choice to make.”

He hung his head, helmet clanging against his chest plate. 

Pytho chose then to return, his tail swishing happily as he walked. He rubbed up against your side, letting out a happy rumble as he did. 

“So they let you go?” Pytho asked, ignoring the man on the floor. 

“Not exactly. They were going to kill me. They wanted to make an example of me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t imagine that the example they wanted to set was getting rescued by a knight but I suppose that’s the hand they were dealt. 

Pytho turned his gaze to Phillip. “You saved her?”

He nodded hesitantly. 

Another pleased noise escaped Pytho. “He’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t let me kill him.”

“About that,” you said and you watched Phillip freeze up, all of his limbs locking. You glanced at him, adding, “I said we weren’t going to hurt you, calm down. I was just going to say, Pytho, you should let him go.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Why? I like him, he’s shiny.”

You suppressed a laugh. “He’s not shiny, his armour is. It’s like clothing.”

“Oh. Why do you creatures insist on that stuff? Seems awfully restrictive.”

Phillip cut into your conversation, saying, “I can’t leave.”

You looked over at him, a wave of irritation rushing through you. “Why not?”

“I can’t leave you here with this beast.”

You had half a mind to throw something at him. “Get this through your head, I don’t need you to save me.”

“It wouldn’t be right,” he continued, undeterred. 

“Fine. But I’m not untying you and risking you hurting him.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Pytho’s head swiveled between the two of you as you bickered. As the argument finally finished, he asked in a hushed tone, although still lough enough that Phillip could hear, “Does that mean we get to keep him.”

You snorted. “Guess so. It’s your lucky day.”

“It really is,” he said, voice as genuine as it could be. 

The sunlight was fast fading and you knew how cold it could get in here. You had no intention of sleeping alone but you glanced at your mostly willing captive. 

“Pytho?” you called out. 

He turned to you immediately. “Yes? Do you need something?”

“Could you go get some wood?”

“Of course I can,” he said, already speeding off. 

When he returned, he had a whole tree in his mouth and another in his talons, dirt still clinging to their roots. 

You bent over laughing as he dropped them both in front of you, tail swishing behind him. They’d barely fit through the mouth of the cave, filling up a significant amount of the room and knocking over at least one pile of gold in the meantime. 

You got to work snapping off some of the more reasonably sized branches, having Pytho move the trees back outside as you finished. 

You set them up a few feet away from Phillip, far enough away that he’d be safe but could still feel the warmth. 

“You can breathe fire right?” you called back to Pytho. It would be unfortunate if he couldn’t because you did not have the proper tools to start one here. 

He nodded, visibly eager. “Do you need one?”

“Just on the sticks here. Make sure not to burn anyone,” you said, nearing Phillip to ensure that he didn’t forget there was a person inside of the shiny armour and cook him. 

With a quick and surprisingly controlled burst of flame, the pile of sticks turned into a quaint little fire. 

You gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder as you headed over to Pytho. “Goodnight. Have fun sleeping in full armour.”

He didn’t respond. 

You left the fire behind to go curl up with Pytho. No fire could compare to his warm scales, of that you were certain. 

A happy rumble escaped him and ran through you as you leaned against him. 

He spoke in hushed tones, face right in front of yours as his tail curled around you. “I can’t believe you came back.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his snout. “But I think I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”

His head leaned into your touch immediately, a wistful look in his eyes. 

“I wish I could do that.”

“What, kiss me?” you asked with a laugh. “Well, how do dragons kiss?”

Without another word he licked a long stripe up the side of your face, leaving a sticky residue behind. 

You giggled as you felt his spit on your cheek. “Well, my way is definitely less messy.”

He let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr, resting his head in your lap. “I like it your way.”

You hummed quietly and you wished he could feel it reverberating through his body the way you did for him. You curled happily into warm scales, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of safety, and fell asleep in your new home. 

The next morning, you realized you had no idea how to tell if Phillip was awake or not. He could have escaped and left only his empty armour behind and it would be impossible to tell. 

What you did know was that he hadn’t eaten. 

Pytho still had some slightly stale bread from your last stay here and you’d brought in all of Phillip’s supplies. You grabbed some dried meat and the freshest of the bread that you could find, heading over to him. 

“Good morning,” you said, hoping he could hear you.

He shifted, just barely, to turn to you. It seemed like the most positive reaction you could hope for. 

“Okay, you need to eat. Here, just let me.” You went to lift his helm but paused as he flinched away from your hand. 

“Please don’t.” His voice was low and shaky. 

You backed off, keeping your hands up and away from him. “Okay,” you said, “But you do need to eat.” 

There wasn’t any other way to do it. You reached behind him, pressed close to him as you untied his hands. As you struggled with the knots, you felt his breath hitch in his chest. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from the newly freed knight, rope in hand. “Tada.”

He froze once more, something you were getting used to, and just stared down at the rope for a minute, flexing his hands by his sides. 

With no warning, he grabbed the food you’d gathered for him and stood on shaky legs, giving you a small nod before he headed out toward the mouth of the cave. It was near where the animals were being kept, tied up to some golden pillar near the front. If he wanted to, he could leave here and now.

You waited patiently for him, avoiding looking in his direction, even if you were sure he’d gone far enough that you wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He quickly returned, fast enough that he must have scarfed down his food.

He presented his hands to you and it took a second to realize he was waiting to be tied up again.

You scoffed, looking at him dubiously. “Is that really necessary?” It seemed silly to tie him up again after that.

His hands stayed out and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed the rope. 

You tied them in front of him this time, taking much less care with the knots as you did. 

“Where are you a knight of?” you asked as you pulled the knot taut. “I see no insignias anywhere on you. That doesn’t seem normal.”

“My kingdom is long gone, m’lady.”

“Still so respectful, even after everything I’ve put you through. Well, sir knight, how can you be a knight with no kingdom to serve?”

His head cocked to the side as if baffled by the question. “I know nothing else.”

You paused a moment before asking. “How long have you been doing this?”

He remained ever impossible to read, although that never stopped you from trying. After a long, stoic pause, he simply shrugged and said, “I’ve lost track of the years.”

“And so what? No kingdom to speak of, you just keep fighting?”

“I do what I’ve always done.” Like it was as simple as that. 

“Don’t you get tired?”

“I never have the time.”

“Well, sir knight, I think you were just about due for some rest anyways.”

He didn’t respond, the helmet following you as you left him.

He was so stoic. You weren’t sure how it was easier to get a read on a dragon than a man but somehow he’d managed it. 

Anything other than silent staring began to feel out of place. 

“M’lady,” Phillip called out. You turned, confused. It wasn’t like him to start a conversation. 

“Yeah?”

“Where is my sword?” he asked. 

You’d forgotten he was unconscious for that. “Oh. I threw it off the mountain.”

“You what? Why?”

Pytho chimed in immediately. “I can get it.”

You shifted between him and the entrance to the cave as quickly as you could. “No, you will not.”

“Why?” asked Phillip.

“What do you mean why? You tried to kill him.”

“I won’t attack him unprovoked.”

“You already did attack him unprovoked.”

“I didn’t have all the information. For that, I am truly sorry, sir.”

Pytho’s chest puffed up at the title. “You are forgiven. And I am sorry that I almost destroyed you.”

That caused Phillip to reel back a little. “You did not. I can best a dragon easily, I almost slit your throat.”

Pytho huffed and you smelled a bit of smoke on his breath. “You did not.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting in. “You’re both very dangerous. I’d still love it if we could keep the sword where it is.”

Phillip nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”

He said it tied up on the floor. Despite not having a weapon, despite his promise not to try and hurt Pytho, despite the fact that you'd already untied him so he could eat. 

“This is stupid,” you said, pacing up to him and immediately setting to work on the knots and ignoring his quiet noises in protest. 

It didn’t take long to undo them, you’d put barely any effort into tying them in the first place. 

“We have to free you so you can eat anyway, I don’t understand your obsession with this little performance.”

Phillip froze, still holding his hands together despite the lack of rope. 

“What should I do?” he asked you quietly. 

You threw the rope to the side. “That’s up to you.”

It took him hours before he was even willing to stand from his spot on the floor. 

His movements were all colored by hesitation. You understood. The freedom made staying a choice. And even when he managed to stand, to move from his corner, he stayed.

He stuck to his corner as often as he could, but nonetheless, he stayed. Watching him sleep alone in the cold, you were certain that this was how Pytho had felt every night when you froze your ass off far away from him. 

You both lit the fire for him every night. Pytho has started running off to get wood without you even asking, even if the trees that remained outside left you with enough wood to last years. 

His armour got lighter as time passed, forgoing pieces from time to time. No matter what, the helmet stayed. It felt like a part of him, like you could imagine there possibly being a man under there. 

He was adjusting to the newfound freedom about as well as you’d expected. 

With every small sign of growing comfort, something else went wrong. 

A few days after his freeing, while Pytho was out gathering more food for the two of you to eat, you heard him muttering in the corner. 

You drifted closer and he paid you no mind. You couldn’t make out any words but you could tell it was frantic.

“Phillip,” you said softly, doing your best not to startle him. “Are you alright?”

You had no idea if you’d frightened him, he remained entirely unreadable. All except for his hands. He had foregone his gloves and much of the armour on his arms and you watched as he nervously fidgeted, threatening his fingers together, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, his hands never staying still for more than a moment. 

“I’m wasting time here,” he said. “I have things to do. I have a duty to this land.” 

You knew it was near impossible to get through to him but you couldn’t help the urge to try. “It’s a waste to rest?”

“It is. I need to go, need to continue on.”

You sat beside him, as close as you could get without touching. “You should take me back home on your way. I’ve got a duty too, you know.” 

His head fell back. Metal against stone sent a clanging noise echoing across the walls. “That’s different. You were brainwashed.”

“I wasn’t. The monsters are real you know. I’ve seen them. We all do, every year. I really would have been saving them. Whatever girl they chose instead of me really did save them. Maybe you don’t think it’s right. That’s fine. It’s an important duty nonetheless.”

“It’s not the same. I’m not being marched to my death.”

“People will still need saving in a week, in a year, in a century. There’s no real, final end to it. There has to be ends to it for you. Little ones. There just has to be.”

His head was turned towards you and you squirmed, feeling like you were being studied. 

Finally, he said, “It upsets you.”

“What?”

“That I never stop. That upsets you?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“I can stand tiny ends to it. To ease your mind.”

A sad laugh escaped you. “I’d rather you did it for you.”

“That’s the best I can do right now. You’re the same, aren’t you?”

And you supposed you were. “I can’t go back. I can’t do that to him. Or to you, I guess.”

A small laugh escaped him, a noise you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. “You guess. I’ll take it.” 

Pytho returned, entering the cave a little too quickly and knocking one of his piles of treasure over. He dropped a cart in front of you, this one with boxes of pastries covering it. 

“The humans seemed to love this one,” he said with his disarming, open-mouthed grin. 

“Who are you taking those from?” Phillip asked incredulously, and you were almost certain you could hear a smile in his voice. 

You grabbed something that looked chocolatey and when you felt that it was still warm you almost sobbed. “I don’t care who he’s taking it from,” you said, taking a massive bite of it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You scarfed down three pastries, offering a small piece to Pytho, just so he could taste it. He spat it back out, questioning how you could ever eat something like that. 

And then you remembered your stoic knight, still sitting beside you, just watching you eat, and a sense of guilt overtook you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said and he perked up as you addressed him. “You know, I could turn around or we could close our eyes. We wouldn’t have to see anything. So we could eat together.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for him to politely refuse, instead turning around and signaling for Pytho to do the same. You shut your eyes, just for good measure, as you leaned against the dragon. 

The quiet thud of the helmet being set on the floor made your heart swell. 

As you took another bite of a pastry, this one filled with a beautiful lemon cream, he slid his hand into your open one and ate behind you, slower than he’d ever eaten before. 

Even if it was for you, you hoped he enjoyed it. 

And still, no matter how much progress you made, every night he still slept in that goddamn corner. 

You were glad Pytho curled up around you at night because then at least you couldn't see him, sad and alone next to his fire, away from the two of you. 

You knew Pytho could tell it bothered you. He always did his best to distract you, pull all of your attention to him. He’d gotten pretty good at it. 

He was nuzzling into your side, pulling giggles from you as he gave you a big, slobbery kiss on your face. 

“What are dragon kisses for?” you asked. 

“What?”

“I’m just curious. Humans kiss their kids, their partners, their parents, all sorts of people they love. Dragon kisses don’t feel like something you can do as casually as a kiss on the cheek.”

Pytho perked up immediately. “You love me?”

You pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Of course I do.”

He purred at you as he answered your question. “Well, dragon kisses are just for mates. We aren’t an overly affectionate species.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You know, maybe you can’t kiss like a human but I could kiss like a dragon.”

He tilted his head and you decided to take the gesture as a challenge. 

You opened your mouth and licked a broad stripe up the side of his face. His scales tasted ashy and were incredibly smooth against your tongue. 

A wave of heat passed through him as you did, a deep guttural sound escaping him. 

You pulled back, trying to get a better look at him. 

“What was that?” you asked quietly. 

He ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide from you. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Something clicked in your head. “Hold on. You said dragons only kiss their mates.”

He nodded hesitantly. 

“You kiss me all the time though.”

He whined again, his tail moving away from you and curling in front of him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s strange, I know you’re human, I can't help it. You're so soft and nice and I love you so much…”

As his words got more frantic you kissed his snout again, shushing him. “You should’ve told me. If I’d known my big, strong dragon wanted me maybe I could’ve done something about it sooner.”

You practically watched his eyes glaze over, head tucking into your chest as he purred more. 

You gave him all the kisses you could, peppering them along his head wherever you could reach. After about a dozen, you decided to try another dragon one, licking along his jaw. 

You were flipped and pinned under him in a second, looking up at a ravenous face. His wings were folded over the two of you, blocking you from the outside world. In here, it was just the two of you. 

You couldn’t be happier. 

“Please, let me see you,” he hissed and you struggled to get your clothes off as quickly as you could. You kicked your pants off and they got caught on your ankles, spurring on a minor giggling fit, feeling absolutely giddy. 

And he just watched, perfectly content to stare down at you as you waged a minor battle against your clothes, desperate to get your bare skin against his. 

As you lay below him, finally fully naked, you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. It felt right, the two of you, like this. 

“I will never understand clothes,” he informed you. “Why would you ever cover this up?”

His head shifted around, looking at every part of you he’d never gotten to see before. 

As his head moved downwards, you could tell exactly when he noticed how wet you were. He stopped moving entirely, nostrils flaring and eyes locked on you. 

He nosed at you and you opened your legs for him, spreading them as wide as they could go. 

His tongue snaked out instantly, licking a hot stripe through your folds. Whatever he found there seemed to interest him because the next thing you knew his thick tongue was snaking deep inside of you, your walls stretching around him. 

You let out a strangled cry, fighting to not snap your legs closed at how overwhelming the sensation was. 

His content vibrations ran through you, causing a spark of pleasure to run up your spine. 

His tongue found a spot deep inside of you that’d didn’t quite feel like the rest, rubbing against it experimentally and you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream. 

It was too much. You’d never felt anything like this before. 

His jaw was cracked open over your stomach, his impossibly long tongue reaching as far into you as it could go. 

His tongue slowly withdrew from you and you didn’t know whether to beg for him to keep going or take your reprieve from the overwhelming sensation while you could. 

You noticed his hips shifting and glanced down. Your heart skipped a beat. 

He was massive, probably a foot long. 

“That’s not going to fit,” you whispered.

The dragon shook his head. “No, I would never try. You’re too small, it would break you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“What about you?” you asked, feeling bad you couldn’t reciprocate. 

“I have everything I need,” he said, nuzzling into your chest once more. “But if you want someone your size, we could always ask for help.”

Your face heated as you realized what he was implying. To be honest, you’d entirely forgotten Phillip was there, too caught up in what you were doing. Oh god, he’d probably heard everything. 

Pytho lifted his wings as you looked at Phillip, who had turned to face the wall. 

“I am so sorry,” you called out, embarrassment washing over you. 

He turned to you slowly and you prepared to get yelled at. 

Instead, his voice came out breathy and strained. “Do you want me to help?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared back at him. “I do. 

He moved towards the pair of you. “I live to serve”

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted so badly to kiss him and you just couldn’t.

So instead you made do, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He fell next to you, both of you leaning against Pytho. 

He froze a little as your hands neared his helmet and you whispered, “Trust me.”

He untensed, although you could sense his anxiety. 

You grasped the side of his helmet slowly, tilting it gently to the side to reveal a sliver of his neck. You moved towards it, taking all the self-control you had to go slowly. 

He shivered as you neared him, your breath ghosting over his skin. 

You started gently, pressing soft kisses into his skin. 

Before long you wanted more, nipping at his neck and sucking marks into it as he let out little whines. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed, could feel his muscles tense as you moved.

Eventually, he pulled you away from him and you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Um…” he said, his voice shaky and high. “If you do want me to… to help. You need to stop doing that. 

You smiled, resting your forehead on his helm. “If you insist.”

The way you’d pulled at his clothes, shifting his shirt out of the way, meant you could see as he gulped. 

His hand hovered inches over your hip, as if afraid to touch you. You covered it with your own, pressing it onto bare skin. 

You didn’t mind his staring so much now. You could feel the waves of awe coming off of him as his hands gently slid up and down your sides. 

You hooked your fingers into the front of his pants and pulled him closer to you. 

“Please,” you asked. 

He didn’t bother taking his pants off, instead pulling them down just enough to get his dick out, already painfully hard. 

Pytho’s tongue had more than prepared you and Phillip seemed like if someone breathed on him wrong he might come so you wasted no time, pulling him over to you. 

Pytho sat there, watching as Phillip pushed inside of you. He was painfully slow, groaning with every inch. 

Your walls fluttered as his hand pressed tentatively down on your clit and he had to stop entirely, breathing slowly. 

“Do you know how hard it was,” he gasped out as he buried himself fully inside of you, unmoving. “Hearing all that and not touching myself. It felt like torture. 

You could feel Pytho shifting behind you, molding himself against your back as you saw his hips twitch, grinding against nothing. 

You opened your mouth to speak when your words were cut off with a sharp thrust. 

Phillip gripped your hips so hard you were worried it might bruise in the morning. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

He slowly found his rhythm, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer as he thrusted inside of you.

You felt something hard against your back, moving as Phillip slammed inside of you again. And then, as if sharing one mind, you felt a sticky substance coat your back just as Phillip gave you one final, hard thrust, groaning as he came inside of you. 

As soon as Phillip pulled out, Pytho rushed to snake his tongue back inside of you. It was so dexterous, pressing up perfectly inside of you as he tasted both you and Phillip. 

Phillips fingers intertwined with yours as your back arched and you felt waves of pleasure run through you. Pytho seemed intent on working you through it, his tongue moving steadily until you could take it anymore. 

You pushed at his head and he lifted it, mouth slick and eyes looking just as dazed as you felt. 

You were all gross and sticky and you’d never been happier in your life. 

Phillip snorted. “I was supposed to kill you.”

“Plans change,” you said. 

“You never could have killed me,” Pytho declared and you couldn’t help but smile as their argument began again. 

You woke up in a tangle of limbs. Your head was tucked into Phillip's chest, his arms wrapped around you with just the tip of Pytho’s tail betwixt you. You were both entirely surrounded by him, curled up protectively around you. 

Pytho had to take both of you down to the nearest lake to get clean the next morning. He sat patiently at the edge of the pond as both of you washed off the mess from the night before. 

Phillip helped you clean, scrubbing your back and running his fingers gently through your hair as you both stood in the waist-deep water. 

You’d had the good sense to remove your clothes but Phillip had to clean his along with himself, standing in the water in his pants, shirt, and that helmet. 

It seemed a little silly but you wouldn’t bother him over it. It would come in due time. Or maybe it wouldn’t and honestly, you didn’t think you would mind. 

Pytho was content watching the two of you, occasionally shifting his tail to splash water at you, a favor you returned to him readily. 

As the cleaning finished and the three of you sat on the shore, drying off, Phillip braided your hair as you both leaned against your warm dragon. 

You were curious where he’d learned it but scared to ask, to remind him of anything other than this perfect moment. 

He did not seem to understand how precious and fragile this moment was, breaking the silence by saying, “I can’t stay here,” and shattering everything. 

You looked at him with panicked eyes and Pytho hid his head under his wing. 

“What?”

His next words came slower, more gently. “I think we’ve made a little home here. I do. But I can’t just stay.”

You nodded. You understood. “Neither can I. You’re going off adventuring again, right?”

He nodded and you immediately added, before you could lose your nerve. “I want to come.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, his voice not commanding but instead cautious and worried. 

“Please. I need to do something, to help someone. I feel like I’ve got a debt on my back. I can’t let it hang over me like this forever.”

He went to protest but you stopped him. “I don’t care what you think, I can’t live with it. Please.”

He nodded. “First, we’re going to need to find my sword.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

“And we can’t come back every night,” he continued. “You’re going to have to spend days on the road. You sure that’s what you want?”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I can manage for a few days.”

Pytho lifted his head from where he was hiding it. “Come back? You said you can’t stay?”

It took a second to understand what he could possibly be asking. The idea of leaving him forever was so inconceivable to you that you hadn’t realized what this must have looked like. 

You rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. “No, I’m not leaving you. Neither of us are. We just…I just can’t stay in a cave for the rest of my life.”

“People will still need helping,” Phillip chimed in, standing behind you. “I won’t ever stop doing this. It’s what I was made to do. But it's been too long. I think it was about time I found a home to come back to.”

You smiled at him as you leaned into your dragon’s side. “I think it was.”

[harmonysanreads]

Playing Dress Up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Blade

Heads up: Female!Reader, Possessive Behaviors, Very Self Indulgent

-; ੈ♡˳ SUNDAY

Sunday seeks refinement in every aspect of his life, this does not fail to extend to how you'll dress yourself while tied to his prestige as well. Sifting and digging through uncountable articles on women's fashion, extensive research on sources to make his vision come to life — Sunday hadn't even put this much effort into drafting his own style. What beget this initiative is rooted in his innate desire to make your connection to him clear through means sans saying it outright, though he'd much rather present it as his attempt in searching for a style that is uniquely yours ; which he does wish for to a degree, not to fret.

Your clothing will be weaved from scratch with the finest threads, silk and satin will be cut, folded and stitched to perfection. Even the measurements of your clothing will be penned down by the man himself : skirts must be of moderate length, not too long or too short and necklines must be modest. Said attires will be painted in shades of white, blue and gold ; his colors in short. But anything under these graceful dresses will be sleek black, a secret that'll never meet the public eye. The motifs of his halo will be skillfully engraved on the canvas that is you ; woven on the dresses, tempered in jewelry to adorn your hair and ears and not even your shoes will be spared.

The principle Sunday follows throughout this charade is complexity through simplicity. While one might think you'd look much like an over-groomed poodle after this, the gentle elegance of the reality will surprise even you. That is because Sunday practices caution in areas that are easy to complicate, jewelry for example. He's partial to earrings, bracelets, brooches and hair ornaments — not necklaces as he prefers the unobstructed beauty of your decolletage. Even those few ornaments are not gaudy in design, selected exclusively to accompany than to steal the stage. But the stones, diamonds and pearls he orders to be embedded in them are far precious than they initially suggest. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of Sunday's struggle was concentrated in the makeup area, for which, he had before anything else, scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist. Only when he had a detailed report on what products would suit your skin and what would harm you did he place the orders. Sunday thinks this endeavor to be much like conducting an orchestra : not all will understand why the conductor standing on the podium spins and twirls the baton, but when the tunes from the instruments unite and bring the melodies to life, it all makes sense.

-; ੈ♡˳ AVENTURINE

Aventurine has no patience for subtlety and employs bold tactics to get his message across. Should someone be naive enough to interrogate the man himself in his extravagant displays, he'll be unflinching in his reasoning as well. No amount of zeroes attached to the price tags or repeated cursory glances from passerbys will deter him in his shopping spree and should you complain about the mounting amount of bags — well, he has two perfectly functioning arms and adjacent shoulders sparkling in their vacancy, doesn't he? Your job is to just point out what catches your eyes, sweetheart.

The Stoneheart has discovered a sweet spot for matching since you entered his life ; which will materialize in earrings, bracelets, rings, hats, sunglasses, coats, chokers and the list goes on. Even though he gives you fair chances in choosing your attire, he'll not so discreetly sneak in pieces that'll reek of him. In occasions where this charade gets spectated by more than two pairs of eyes, Aventurine is less teasing and more edified in his intentions. Blue, pink and emerald coating fabrics that expose more than they cover will mock wanton eyes and they'll say loud and clear — this will never be yours.

Aventurine's favorite part has to be picking the perfumes for you. If you already have preferences, he'll scout the finest brand of that fragrance and make sure no other being in the expanding universe will be able to acquire it from then onwards. It just so happens that he also sees the importance of securing something that is uniquely you. If you're indecisive about perfumes, then even better! You can be doused in the fragrances he indulges in, keep no doubt that they'll be tasteful.

All this glamour might give the impression that Aventurine never allows you or himself to ever be stripped of the fanciful, glimmering and glittering layers oozing with the repute of uncountable credits. However, you were pleasantly surprised to find his lax attitude concerning your nightwear. You did not see any flickers of that ravenous flame concealed beneath enigmatic smiles even if you wore something bruised and tattered by time or, if you stole something from his wardrobe upon a random urge. Perhaps in moments overlooked by the light of distant stars, he treasures above all the sight of you in your most natural state, and wishes he could indulge in the same vulnerability as well.

-; ੈ♡˳ DR RATIO

The prodigious Veritas Ratio loves watching you get dressed, although there's a scarce chance of him openly admitting to his shameless ogling. Ironically, his genius receives negative marks when he tries to search for a rational reason as to why he continues regardless of your teasing — which, just so happen to never have sufficient burn to deter him for good. There's an odd sense of peace in spectating you building your look, in the movements of various tools and scattered, dexterous hand gestures. To him, it's almost synonymous to sculpting ; shaping something unremarkable to a display of skill and artistry.

Ratio thinks studious scholars should never limit their perspectives, which is why he tries to broaden his agenda with new experiences constantly — or at least, that's the excuse he ultimately settles on. He's yet to tell you of this, but he's certain he's acquired quite the quantity of knowledge on makeup from his observations. He knows the difference between foundations and concealers, in which order the cosmetics are applied and has a decent understanding about shades and highlights. It's safe to say, you can rely on him on this matter should there ever arise such an occasion.

When it comes to clothing, Ratio appears to be quite indecisive, form fitting or loose, he has no issues. The area where he is particularly strict, is hygiene. Which means no missed baths, or any half-hearted showers. After he's found himself comfortable in your presence, he'll take personal initiative to make sure your baths are never boring. Fragrant body washes, essential oils, exquisite rose water, bath bombs, shampoos — he has it all covered. Another astounding discovery for the scholar was that he adores taking care of your hair, in particular. He always takes extra caution when washing it, buys smoother combs so that it might not get damaged and occasionally tries different hairstyles — though he's not very skilled at it. But learning has never been an effortless process to begin with, he's sure he'll be able to decorate your hair the way he desires properly one day.

-; ੈ♡˳ BLADE

Blade seldom comments on your choice of attire, but it doesn't mean that he never thinks about it. He prefers to dismiss most of those bubbling thoughts, for what does a weapon understand of fashion senses and trends? What he does offer you instead are drawling stares tiptoeing before the line of glares. Insufficient time knowing the enigmatic Stellaron Hunter will prove your inefficiency in understanding his brooding gazes. Should you directly ask his opinion on a certain outfit, it'll not earn you more than a grunt or a hum. But coming from Blade, that would be considered a lot.

In truth, Blade finds himself bewildered before the feelings you stir within him through the most mundane actions. He was certain that wanton emotions, urges and his humanity were devoured by the curse. For centuries, he wandered without a definitive purpose, stewing in the rage and hatred bubbling from his fate. Above all, he did not think himself human. So when you, in all your bright and humane light dug through the battered cage of his ribs and made yourself its soul resident, tugging him closer closer closer towards that tunnel's end through seemingly meaningless antics — Blade was lost.

It made him afraid sometimes, for the unreachable end that he always clawed towards seemed to lose its appeal before you. When he realized one day that he liked lighter colors on you, that he enjoyed watching you practice a hairstyle for hours, that he loved how your lips shimmer after a swipe of lip gloss, that he'd not trade the matching tassels you gifted him on a whim for the universe — the appalling realization that living is just a tiny bit more bearable with you around crashed on his beliefs and destroyed him beyond repair. Which is why, for the longest time, he didn't know how to respond to any of your gestures ; far too occupied with processing whether its the talons of mara digging into his sanity or just plain pleasant emotions.

Blade is often irresolute when you ask for his opinion on your clothing, not because he has not the faintest idea of what is considered appealing but because, you just look good in everything in his eyes. There's a particular garment though, form fitting Qipao with cheeky side slits that had him run the first time you wore it. Only after Kafka's reassurance that no, it isn't his mara was he able to gather the courage to approach you again. In conclusion, be prepared for every possible outcome when you're dolling yourself up for Blade.

[bookwormjust]

Protective shadows (Established relationship, Azriel's mate, Cassian teasing as usual, Azriel not in the mood)

The sun hung low over the sprawling courtyards of the House of Wind, casting long, golden rays across the stone floors. The Inner Circle had gathered for a relaxed afternoon, a rare reprieve from the pressures of their roles and responsibilities. You sat beside Azriel on one of the plush outdoor sofas, enjoying the warm breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers from the nearby gardens.

Azriel’s shadows, ever-present and watchful, danced lazily around him, the dark tendrils swirling softly like smoke caught in a gentle breeze. One shadow, in particular, was coiled around your wrist like a bracelet—warm and familiar, its touch a constant, comforting reminder of his presence. It seemed to pulse with a life of its own, moving in sync with the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Cassian, always one to notice the little details, caught sight of the shadow and grinned, leaning back in his chair with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, Az, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your shadows so attached to anyone before. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it a little?” he joked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I mean, they’re practically glued to her.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Cassian. There was a flicker of something sharp in his gaze, a protective edge that made his shadows stir restlessly around him. He kept his hand resting on your knee, his thumb brushing slow, calming circles into your skin, but his posture tensed, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“They do as they please,” Azriel said, his voice low and steady, but there was an unmistakable warning in his tone. His shadows, sensing his unease, tightened ever so slightly around your wrist, as if reaffirming their presence, their silent vow to protect.

Cassian chuckled, clearly oblivious to the shift in Azriel’s mood. “Oh, come on, Az. It’s just a shadow. It’s not like anyone’s going to steal her away from you,” he teased, the grin on his face broadening. “Besides, it’s not like she’s in danger here.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, a flicker of anger sparking in their depths. The shadows around him grew denser, swirling with a sudden intensity that made the air feel heavier. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet level. “They’re not just shadows, Cassian,” he said, each word edged with a quiet menace. “They’re a part of me, and they know exactly where they belong.”

Cassian’s smile faltered, the lightness of his teasing dimming as he realized Azriel was not in the mood for jokes. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, though the gleam in his eyes showed he was not entirely cowed. “Alright, alright. No need to get your feathers ruffled, Shadowsinger,” Cassian said, though his tone was more subdued now. “I’m just messing with you.”

But Azriel’s gaze remained hard, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. “She is my mate,” he said, the words resonating with a possessive finality. “My shadows protect what’s mine, and I won’t apologize for that.”

The declaration hung in the air, charged with the weight of his emotions. Azriel’s shadows pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the tendril around your wrist tightening slightly before relaxing, as if echoing his protectiveness. You could feel the intensity of his feelings through your bond—the fierce need to keep you safe, to ensure that nothing and no one could ever harm you.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on Azriel’s arm, grounding him with your touch. “I like having them close,” you said softly, offering him a reassuring smile. “They make me feel safe.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the tension in his posture easing just a fraction. His thumb resumed its soothing motion on your knee, and his shadows seemed to calm, their movements becoming more languid and relaxed. He turned his attention back to Cassian, his expression still guarded but the anger fading from his eyes.

Cassian met Azriel’s gaze, his own expression more serious now. “I get it,” he said quietly, a hint of understanding in his tone. “I just didn’t realize it meant that much to you.”

“It does,” Azriel replied, his voice steady, though the underlying edge of protectiveness remained. “She’s everything to me.”

Cassian nodded, his teasing demeanor replaced by a rare look of respect. “Well, then,” he said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. “I’m glad she has you—and your shadows—looking out for her.”

Azriel inclined his head, accepting the peace offering with a slight nod. He turned his attention back to you, his expression softening further as he caught your eye. The shadow around your wrist gave a gentle squeeze, like a silent promise, before settling back into its usual, comforting rhythm.

You leaned into Azriel, resting your head against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His wings shifted slightly, brushing against your back in a gesture that felt both protective and intimate. The bond between you thrummed with warmth, a steady reassurance that no matter what, Azriel would always be there, his shadows ever-watchful, ever-loyal.

Cassian might have teased, but you knew the truth: Azriel’s shadows were more than just wisps of darkness—they were extensions of his love, his devotion, and his unyielding promise to keep you safe. And in that moment, wrapped in his embrace with the steady presence of his shadows around you, you knew you were exactly where you belonged.

[clovers-housetree]

Activities for Regressors Without Caregivers! (or just fun regression activties!)

(Although you're always welcome here if you'd like any form of comfort anyway! ^w^)

This one's kind of a long one, after the few tips I list, I've mentioned an app I use called Finch, which will be talked about below the cut.

Since that's the case, I'll put my little ending message here instead:

Knowing how to take care of yourself can take a lot of work and practice, but I believe it's worth the effort, because then you'll be a happier and healthier you! Especially if you can find ways to make it fun!

I'm more than happy to be here for you and offer my support in any way I can, anyhow! I'm proud of you for doing what you can, I know it can be very hard.

I myself don't have a caregiver for when I regress, so most of the time I end up taking care of myself! Here are some fun activities and things I do when I regress to keep myself calm and happy! ^w^

Paci mentions/pics not long after the first section for those of you who'd rather not see 'em.

♥ Arts and crafts! I absolutely LOVE coloring and making bracelets with beads, something not too complicated for little hands, but also something fun!

With coloring, you can buy coloring books, or draw something of your own to color in- even printing out a page you find online, coloring digitally, or tracing over something to color in could work! I prefer coloring more than drawing personally because I don't draw all the time, but I bet I could learn a little thing or two from the artists around here!

For bracelets (and other jewelry), strings can be hard to knot with little hands (at least they aren't those small, slippery clasps!!), but the beads shouldn't be too hard to handle if you're careful! Even just planning out patterns is fun!

Here are some My Little Pony bracelets I made, and the decorations I did for my pacis!

♥ Making playlists! Dancing is fun, and a good way to get the zoomies out, but you can just make playlists for any occasion! I have playlists that help me pet-regress, songs with sounds I like, adventure playlists... (Well- a lot of these are still in progress, but- you get the point!)

I also love those playlist videos on YouTube! Animal Crossing, Super Mario Galaxy, Minecraft and music box music are typically my go-to to help me settle or just make for comfy background music! Here's one of my favorites, shadowatnoon has lovely Nintendo music mixes!

♥ Playing with your plushies! You can take them on adventures, or make your own!

Like Toby, climbing The Great Pillow Mountain!

(This is Toby by the way, he's one of my best friends and a VERY good hugger!)

You can play games with them, too! Toby's REALLY good at hide and seek... Maybe you can find him for me? :0

♥ Finding shows to watch! I really like Paw Patrol and Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the moment. Plus, you can look at agere content and fics from shows you like! People make really cool stimboards and moodboards, for example, and I like reading through all the fun stories people write!

Here's a silly picture of Rocky I found! :3

Finch

Finch is a self-care app where you take care of your very own little bird friend by taking care of yourself!

You can set daily goals, or for each day (or more specific ones as well I think.). By completing these goals, you give your bird energy to go on adventures! They usually come back with a funny little story or silly questions, because they're learning, too!

Through completing these goals (or daily, at least), you can get Rainbow Stones, which you can use to buy clothes for your bird, make them different colors, or give them furniture for their house!

They're also LGBTQ+ and disability-friendly!! :3

This is my little bird, Honeydew! You're welcome to friend me as well if you'd like, my code is: Z3E2T7VRK6

It's helped me learn a lot about taking care of myself and keeping track of my goals, and I get little rewards for it! I've used the app for several months now, and it's helped me out a lot!

"Fluttershy protects this blog! SFW interaction only, please and thank you! ^w^"

"Wouldn't show a kid? Doesn't belong here!"

[vividxpages]

°‧⋆.࿔*:･ ocean-touched, sun-kissed･: * ࿔. ⋆‧°

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 5400

summary: Jacaerys and you are on vacation with his family. A shared shower before dinner is tempting you to indulge in your constant hunger for each other.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, vacation bliss, making out, sexual content, oral (f receiving), gentle smut

a/n: this can be read as a standalone, but the story takes place after “no parents, big house”.

Thank you for the love this little story has been getting, it means a lot to me! <3    

       

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🐚🌊🍹୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

In this summer, you started to believe you were meant to be loved under the sun, surrounded by the perfect blue of the sea and your love, Jacaerys.

Jace and you had been inseparable for the past few days, insufferable with how clingy and happy you were in each other’s presence.

Having been invited to join the Targaryen-Strong’s vacation had its many perks.

After a long flight where you mostly had been napping against Jace’s arm, you had found a paradise of sandy beaches and clear blue sea waiting for you.

You were sharing a master bedroom like his parents did - a luxury compared to his twin size bed back at home, although you were always gravitating towards each other anyways.

So far, you had woken up every morning and gone to sleep together every night, the sunny meantime filled with laughter and kisses that tasted like the cocktails you drank, endless dinners by the ocean and late-night talks in the dark. You went on walks by the ocean, collecting seashells and little stones that matched each other’s eye color, him always taking pictures with his polaroid camera of you. And you of him, determined to keep every single one forever.

You had sat on his shoulders while battling his siblings in a fierce water war. You had swayed together in the privacy of your room, your lips trying to seek out and kiss every little freckle of his that the sun brought out. And you had spent time with his family, going snorkeling and shopping in the local small town, selecting friendship bracelets for each other.

It was a good summer.

The day was sluggishly drifting along, the high temperature making it impossible to be productive. Jace and you had gotten some light lunch at the beach club near the holiday home and taken a quick dip into the ocean before walking back to nap by your own private pool.

Now, you were laying together on a big lounge bed by the pool, naked legs tangled together, his sun-kissed skin warm against yours. Both of your swimwear was still drying from earlier and you sighed happily as you laid with your head on his chest, one of his arms slung around you while the other rested on your waist. To your feet waited your open book and a plate of half-eaten watermelon you had shared before falling asleep.

It was adorable how sleepy Jace could get after a good snack, the butterflies in your stomach doing an extra round as your eyes fluttered open and you watched him sleep. His dark curls were slicked back, a little frizzy from the sea salt and your hand ached to run your fingers through them. Jace looked angelic underneath the sun umbrella, his relaxed face so close to yours, you could feel his even huffs of air against your cheek and count the freckles on his nose.

You quietly smiled to yourself.

You were happy, young and in love with the most beautiful and kind boy you knew and you were granted two full weeks by his side underneath the warm summer sun by the sea. Everything was perfect until you suddenly heard the sharp whispers of his younger brothers drawing near.

They were arguing with each other, excitement and mischief in their voices and as you sleepily blinked at them over your shoulder, they froze, caught in the act.

“We thought you were sleeping.” Joffrey whispered, not even hiding his disappointment.

“You have to be quieter than that to not wake me.” You whispered back and his shoulders slumped, the twins still giggling with each other behind him. On the other side of the pool, Luke was snoring on his own sunchair, his ears covered by headphones.

Joffrey gestured to the sand bucket in his hands, the water in it splashing a little onto the hot stone floor. “We found a jellyfish and wanted to give it to Jace, to prank him.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you put your sunglasses back on, slowly and carefully slipping out of Jace’s embrace. He made a small noise in his sleep, his subconsciousness not happy over your familiar warmth vanishing, but yet letting him continue to nap.

You tiptoed to his younger brothers, taking the small bucket from their hands and glimpsing into it. You raised a finger to your lips and slowly walked back to your napping spot, silently setting the bucket down in front of Jace’s face.

The twins behind your back gasped in excitement and you grinned, brushing back your boyfriend’s stray curls, softly talking to him. “Jacey…time to wake up, my love…”

He stirred, a croaky groan getting stuck in his throat as he furrowed his brows and opened his pretty eyes. Jacaerys found himself face to face with a big gooey jellyfish and the sight of you and his brothers laughing as you saw his confused face. He shuffled backwards, pushing the bucket away.

Your eyes met and you could tell you might’ve made a grievous mistake, having conspired against him like this.

“They made me do it!” You grinned, harmlessly raising your arms in defense as he fixated you with a dark stare, an idea coming up in his mind. Directed to his brothers, you said: “Alright now, get this poor thing back in the ocean where it belongs before your parents see, come on.”

Jace sat up, stretching his limbs, his eyes darkening playfully. “You know I would’ve expected such a joke from my little brothers, but you, my love? I’m deeply wounded.”

He slowly rose from your napping spot and you took a step backwards on the warm stone plates, the sparkling mischief in his eyes making you giggle nervously. When Jacaerys looked at you like this, nothing good could follow…

“I think…” He took a sudden step into your direction and a funny feeling shot through your stomach at his predatory stare. “I might have to get revenge for that…”

Joffrey and the twins burst apart with a collective sneak, quickly retreating as he lunged for you. You let out a screech, heedlessly running around the pool’s edge as he chased you around it. You heard his laughter echo across the Mediterranean walls, the laughter of a man who knew he had already won and before you could outrun him, he snatched you by the waist-

“Jacaerys-!”

- and jumped into the pool with you.

Water crashed together over your heads and you clung to Jace’s body underneath it, weightless and trusting. He found you quickly, holding you against him as you came up, sputtering and laughing at the cool shock of the pool’s water.

He shook out his wet hair and you squealed.

“You could’ve warned me!” You splashed some water at him, but he only held you tighter and laughed with you, walking you backwards in the refreshing deep. Your legs found their way around his waist on their own, hugging him close to you like a koala baby would.

“I could say the same thing.” He shot back, his hand caressing your bum and supporting you, and then you were getting kissed against the wall of the pool. His free hand softly held the back of your head, making sure you weren’t hitting the hard stone as he ravished your mouth, him tasting like sugar and watermelon on your tongue.

Cool water drops coated your lips as you lazily slung your arms around his neck, gasping quietly as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“Eww, stop it, you’re going to drown!” Joffrey screamed at you from the pool’s edge. “Mooom!”

Jace and you broke apart, laughing with each other as you hid your face in his neck, playing with his wet hair and relishing your closeness underneath the water surface.

“We’re fine, Joff.” Jace told his brother, nuzzling your neck one last time before you looked up and spotted his mother.

Rhaenyra stood on one of the balconies, fondly looking down on her sons. “We are all going to a restaurant tonight. Be ready in two hours and for the love of the gods, someone please push Luke’s chair out of the sun.”

You pressed one final cool kiss to the tip of Jace’s nose before he walked you two over to the shallow end, gently setting you down on your feet again. You walked out of the pool together, him holding your hand so you wouldn’t slip and draping your fluffy beach towel around your shoulders.

You both looked at each other through the wet strands of your hair.

Jace stroked the side of your waist, collecting your book and his bag. “Want to go take a shower?”

You could never say no to a suggestion like that.

When you entered yours and Jace’s bedroom, the playful atmosphere by the pool had shifted into something heavy, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, your mind having been tricked into believing there was going to be more after a heated kiss like that.

The glowing afternoon sun painted your room golden and Jace’s eyes were shining like liquid amber as they rested on you, draping the towel around you over the chair in the corner. You turned to him, suddenly very aware of your dripping wet bikini, a particular nice pair you owned that Jace loved to take off of you whenever he could.

“Do you want to go shower first?” You asked him innocently.

He brushed his hair back with both hands, his muscled arms on full display for you. You swallowed. When had it gotten this hot in the room?

He shrugged; eyes sparkling. “I thought we could save some water and go together?.” His swimming shorts were steadily dripping onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

“Such a brilliant idea.” You breathed, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bikini top.

But as if he couldn’t have that, Jace was there, leading you to the big mirror next to your bed, a beautiful detail to the room you had already been using to your advantage every night…

Your breath faltered as he stepped behind you, letting you look at yourself as he brushed your wet hair over your shoulder, delivering a small kiss to it. His eyes were not leaving yours in the reflection as he skillfully unclasped your top and began to sensually kiss your neck, a small moan escaping you as you tilted your head to the side, becoming putty in his caring hands.

You held your breath, biting your lip in bliss as he slid his warm hands over your form, feather-lightly caressing the side of your breasts before his arms came around you. A sun-kissed embrace. It was getting hard to think clearly as you listened to the sound of his mouth on your jaw and neck, traveling indulgently over your skin and searching for your sweet spots he knew so well.

You did not know how, but somehow you managed to stumble into the bathroom without tripping. You quickly turned around and kissed him like your life depended on it, your bikini top falling carelessly to the floor with a wet sound.

His eyes darkened as he looked up and down your silhouette, the warm light of the bathroom making it seem like you were shimmering for him. And you did, beaming under his attentive gaze, almost forgetting that you came here with the intention to get clean.

You had thought before that Jace’s shower at home was big, but this one was ridiculously enormous. There was enough space for the two of you to comfortably stand in it together, with a little stone bench in the corner and a big rainforest shower head above you. To be clear; the perfect playground for lovers.

Your chest tightened adoringly as you watched him making sure the water was the right temperature before he took your hand and pulled you against him under the spray, your chest pressed against his as he hugged you. You simply held each other for a while as the salt and sand was washed away from your bodies.

Jace and you shared some achingly sweet kisses, your hands exploring each other’s naked and wet bodies, one of his arms always steadily around your waist as your fingers ran up and down his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly underneath your touch.

There was no rush in your actions and yet you made out more fiercely now, the memory of sleeping together yesterday night already fading and needing to be refreshed…

You quietly laughed against his lips as he struggled to push off his wet swim shorts, helping him eagerly to get rid of them before you gently cupped his bulge, a sharp gasp being torn from his throat by your bold move.

He leaned back against the wall, exhaling shakily and his head hitting the tiles with a quiet thud as you began to kiss his neck, your tongue licking over his skin. You distracted him with those deep kisses until your fingertips trailed down his toned stomach and brushed against him, his dick twitching at the small contact.

You smiled against his neck, shushing him sweetly as he whined, your fingers finally wrapping around him and slowly beginning to jerk him off. He bit his lip, but his little moans and whines were stronger, echoing across the shower cell, heat pooling between your legs at his loss of control over himself.

“I’ve been wanting you all day...” You whispered into his ear, your nails scratching lightly over his skull and he gasped as you twisted your wrist around him.

“Please, baby, ah-“ He broke off, shaking his head like he was trying to fight it. You watched every little reaction crossing his pretty face as you continued, varying between slow strokes and gentle twists of your hand, knowing the mix it needed to get him off like you knew yourself.

You leaned closer, breathing heavily yourself, kissing his chest and sucking on the sensitive side of his neck.

But just before he could spill and finish into your hand, Jacaerys grit his teeth, fought off the haze you brought on him and grabbed you, effortlessly hoisting you up and pushing you against the shower tiles.

You let out a surprised gasp, your hands scrambling for his shoulders as he rolled his hips forward and ground his dick against your core, barely covered by the wet bikini you were still wearing.

Jace and you moaned in sync, looking at each other through wide and cloudy eyes.

One of his hands braced itself on the wall behind you and your hand flew up to grasp it as he continued his sweet assault on you, nearly making you forget your own name until it was your turn to beg for him now.

“God, you feel good…” Jace moaned, his head dropping on your shoulder before he captured your mouth with his again. “So lovely, all for me…”

Your original plan to get ready for dinner efficiently was thrown carelessly out of the window, completely forgotten and vanished as hot friction shot through your nerves, making you whimper and hold on tightly to his shoulders.

You clung to him, planning on never letting him go again as he peppered kisses on your skin. His mouth trailed down your collarbone before he sucked one of your breasts into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling around the sensitive bud that ached for him. You almost did not notice how he was walking out of the shower with you in his arms.

Your head was spinning with dizziness, having to blink a few times to see the bathroom disappearing behind you, the steady drip of water trailing along with the two of you.

“Jace, what are you- don’t trip!” You squeaked and clung to him, a hoarse chuckle escaping him as you buried your face in his neck and held on for dear life. One of his hands soothingly stroked your back.

“We’re going to get the bed all wet.” You protested weakly, not able to pretend like you weren’t absolutely thrilled by this side of him, carrying you wherever he wanted like you weighed nothing and deciding he needed you in a bed instead of quickly and rushed in the shower.

Jacaerys let you down gently, placing you among the disheveled sheets you had woken up in this morning. You had slept in long, letting the sunbeams tickle you awake through the window, cuddling without a care in the world and the bed suddenly looked like it now.

The white blankets and pillows welcomed your naked body and you felt like you were resting on a cloud with the way Jace came to kneel over you, breathing heavily with wide pupils, his dark eyes exploring your glistening body silently. You bit your lip, embers swirling in your stomach, feeling the sheets under you turning drenched. Little water drops were raining down from his hair tips, landing on your thigh.

He looked like an angel and your heart nearly beat out of your chest, knowing he was yours.

“The summer sun suits you, my love.” He murmured, lost in your sight underneath him.

He lifted one finger and followed down the tan line of your bikini top, your chest rising and falling faster as his pointy finger reached one of your nipples, lazily drawing circles around the rosy bud.

You let out a tiny grunt as he hummed appreciatively as it got harder underneath his touch, one warm hand splayed on your tummy to feel you squirming.

A loving smile tugged at the corners of his plump lips, the hunger for him achingly flaring up in you. “You look like you’ve been kissed by the sea.”

“I’d rather get kissed by you.” You confessed, gasping when he suddenly bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on your stomach, his tongue briefly dipping into your belly button while his lean hands took a hold of your quivering knees.

You watched him, speechless and in awe of your perfect adoring boyfriend and he rested his cheek against your smooth thigh, smiling up to you. “I plan to, don’t worry, love.”

His fingers wandered along the seam of your baby blue bikini bottom, not yet pulling them off. You could feel his breath ghosting over you, mouth falling open from the tiny sensation.

“Is this okay?” His fingers hooked into the sides of your bikini, waiting for you to give him an answer.

“Yes…” You whispered to him, nodding quickly. “More than okay.”

Your hand stroked through his wet curls and a shiver went through his entire body. Like this, he looked like a young prince, dreamy but with fire in his beautiful eyes, focusing only on you. From this angle, you could see his dick throb against his thigh, but the bliss of having you like this seemed to cloud his mind for the moment, making it hard to think.

“Please, Jace.” A whine got stuck in your throat as you wriggled your hips, urging him on to undress you fully. “Kiss me, please, I need you-“

You lifted your hips for him as he slid off the last barrier between the two of you, groaning wantonly when he saw your soaked core, your glistening wetness helplessly leaking into the sheets below you. You clenched around nothing underneath his dark gaze, feeling as if your whole body was on fire and only he could make it better – by adding gasoline to the mix and setting you aflame.

He absently licked his lips, not parting his eyes from your most sensitive parts as he carefully grabbed your legs and spread them, twin kisses pressed to each of your calves as he got comfortable in between them.

He cursed under his breath, flustered and driven by love and lust as he made eye contact with you. “God, you’re so wet for me, baby.”

You hissed when one of his fingers dragged through your folds, spreading your wetness tortuously slowly over your pulsing clit. You squeezed your eyes shut, mouth falling open, hips bucking uncontrollably into his grasp.

If this was his sweet revenge for the jellyfish earlier, you’d make sure to dive into the ocean first thing tomorrow and catch hundreds of them.

Jacaerys slowly began to trace circles on your clit, his fingers achingly soft and slow, exactly how he preferred to get you off. Shuddering little sighs and moans left your lips as he started to kiss your inner thighs and the tightly wound spiral in you drew itself only tighter, ready to snap and send you into sweet oblivion. 

While one hand pampered your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and slow patterns, the other soothed you with gentle touches, caressing your stomach and your chest, never stopping in just one place and always wandering as if it was the first time he explored your body.

“You are so sweet.” Jace murmured and you lifted your head from the fluffy pillows, whimpering needily when you saw him licking his lips in excitement. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder, shuffling even closer and gritting his teeth when his dick dragged over the sheets.

“Tap my shoulder if you need me to stop.” He told you hoarsely and you threw him a look that said absolutely not, never.

He cocked his eyebrow at you and before you could prepare yourself in any way, he softly blew on you, the cool air meeting your hot flesh and sending lightning through every nerve in your body.

Motivated by your surprised mewl, Jace wasted no time anymore and dove in, moaning as he kissed your folds and spread them apart with his tongue, kissing you like he had in the shower earlier, your sweet scent going right into his brain and making him drunk on you.

He took his time with you, attentively eating you out like you were his favorite meal on earth, relishing the act of being so close to your most intimate part. Your hand found his outstretched one, squeezing it tightly as you whimpered from pleasure, sweat collecting at your brow and legs shaking on his shoulders.

He licked you sensually slowly, sucking your clit into his mouth and releasing it with an obscene sound while his burning gaze stayed on you.

You were losing it.

You could not decide if you wanted to close your eyes and give in to this feeling or keep them open to watch his every move. 

His lips and chin were glistening, covered in you, and you tried to brace yourself on your elbows to look at him, mouth agape and brows scrunched together as Jace continued to worship you. His soft wet curls were a tickling sensation on your inner thighs whenever you tried to clamp them together, but his bony shoulders were there, keeping you perfectly wide open for him.

“Jace.” Your breath hitched, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “More, please. Shit-“

A relieved moan tore through you when he slowly pushed one of his long fingers inside you, breathing heavily in sync with you as your warm walls welcomed him, sucking the familiar digit in. You slumped against the pillows as he nestled his face against your thigh, watching as he slowly began to finger you, your pelvis beginning to move too, meeting every little push of his.

One finger soon became two and he crooked them up just as the right time, making your back arch off the mattress, keening highly towards the ceiling. Everything seemed to melt together as he suckled on your clit, the sounds of his finger sliding in and out of you outright dirty. Combined with his muffled groans and whines at your taste on his tongue, you were catapulted towards an inevitable edge, a familiar abyss ready to welcome you home.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” He praised huskily and you clenched down on his fingers, crying out as he licked one fat stripe up your core. He was intoxicating and thought the same of you, his own definition of paradise on earth. He never wanted to let your taste leave his mouth. “So sweet for me…I can tell you’re close, aren’t you?”

“So close.” You sighed in agreement, holding on to his shoulders and trying your best to buck forward and match his rhythm. Occasionally, your fingers would find their way into his hair, tugging at the silky strands and he’d moan right into your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. The water on your skin had been replaced by a thin layer of sweat and he exhaled sharply as you rode his fingers, seeking out the edge of the mountain, the bottom of his endless sea of love for you.

“I love you, love you so much.” He tried to coax it out of you, encouraging you as he peppered kisses on your sweet rosy cunt. “I want to see you come so badly, my love, I need to feel it-”

The intensity of your peak nearly blinded you and you were sure you were ascending up into the air, only grounded to this world by Jace holding and kissing you through your orgasm. He made it even longer, stronger for you, suckling your clit once more as high whines and whimpers left your lips, a tear escaping your shut eyes and being caught by his thumb.

Little shockwaves still danced through you as you watched him with half-lidded eyes, his hand disappearing to grab himself-

You shook your head, tugging him up and against you by his wet chin. You shivered, hugging him close as he exhaled shakingly, your naked bodies rubbing against each other. You needed him close, needed to melt into one with him and you were not letting him touch himself to completion, not when he had you.

“I need to feel you.” You mumbled, a little out of it, tearily blinking at him as he looked at you like you were an angel having been sent to be his.

“Are you sure?” He looked at you searchingly, brushing back your sweaty hair from your forehead. “I don’t want you to be sore later…”

You cupped his cheek, timidly shaking your head. Your next words were barely a whisper. “I just need you, Jace. Please, make love to me.”

Jace let out a croaky sigh, kissing your fingertips as his own fumbled for a condom on the bedside table. Your hand sneaked down his body, giving his weeping dick some merciful strokes before he rolled on the condom and buried his face in your neck, slowly sinking into your welcoming warm heart.

Your boyfriend moaned so prettily at how tightly you squeezed him, it almost was enough to make you come again. 

Jace was utterly overwhelmed, taking a few deep breaths as he let you both adjust to the never tiring sensation of being connected like this. You hummed happily, kissing his temple and stroking his back and he hugged you tightly to him.

He was in heaven as he looked deeply into your eyes, babbling softly how much he loved you and whining when you crossed your legs behind his back and pulled him deeper.

There was no rush in the way you kissed each other, lazily exploring each other’s mouth as he began to move, pulling out the slightest bit before easing forward again, the drag of his dick against your over sensitive walls enough to make you a quivering mess.

“’m not gonna last long…” He confessed, a pretty frown on his forehead, sensually rolling his hips forward as you met him thrust for thrust. “You feel so good, baby, so perfect, all mine…”

“Yours.” You echoed dreamily and then his lips found yours again, feverishly this time and searching, his hips slowly picking up a delicious rhythm, chasing the high he had been suppressing ever since you stood under the showerhead together earlier…

You touched his shoulders, played with his hair as his lashes fluttered, his thrusts losing their pace as he felt it approaching, the storm that was you, ready to sweep him off his feet. A whine tore itself from his throat as you purposefully tightened your muscles around him, one hand buckling under him and flying to your clit where skin slapped against skin and you were still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“Jace-“ You gasped, biting your lip so hard it nearly bled, grinding against him. “Let go, love, I know you’re close, let go for me-“

A dam in Jacaerys broke and with one deep last rock forward, he found his release in you, losing himself entirely in his sweet girl. He groaned long and deep, gasping into the crook of your neck as he slowed his hips, lips ghosting over your skin as he touched you and tried to stop himself from shaking.

You couldn’t help but fall over the edge a second time, your whole body shaken by uncontrollable twitches and imaginary electricity. The two of you clung to each other desperately, riding the high you brought down on one another together until your hips began to slow.

Not ready to let go of each other yet, Jace sighed and rolled down from you, but not without pulling you with him and tucking you safely against him. Humming happily, you draped one leg over his and smiled as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

“You were amazing.” He whispered into the content silence, his eyes full of adoration as he cupped your cheek and kissed your lips. “Was it okay for you? Not…too much?”

You smiled brightly. “It was perfect. I think I saw stars for a moment.”

You giggled as he turned red, hiding his face in your neck, your fingers brushing through his hair. The two of you had dried off by now, only your wet bikini on the floor and his extra curly hair evidence to the shower you had attempted to take.

“I love you.” He breathed, hugging you tightly and stroking your back, lifting you closer with a secure hand on your bum. “I’m so glad you came with me on this trip…”

“Thank you for bringing me…love you too.” You stroked his cheekbone, getting lost in his eyes and the love you shared for each other. He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, one by one.

Out of the sudden, you frowned and lifted your hand to his neck, fingers brushing over a red spot near his nape. “You got a sunburn, Jace.”

“Oh…” He mumbled, his eyes still closed and happy to just hold you like this for a little while longer. “I’ll live, don’t worry about me.”

“You have to let me apply some of my aloe vera before we go to dinner, okay?” You mumbled back, pressing a small kiss on the burn, making him squirm. “If you start to peel, I’ll sleep elsewhere.”

He let out a displeased tut at that, his strong arms tightening around your waist. “Nu-uh, not letting you…we can just order room service later, who needs a fancy dinner by the beach…”

“I do.” You laughed lightly at his blissed out and carefree smile, softly hitting his chest. “And it would be so rude not to show up. I’ll remind you of your own words later when you overtake yourself at the buffet.”

He hummed considerately, not convinced yet. “I don’t know…staying in bed with you sounds pretty good to me already.”

“We can stay in bed for the whole night.” You argued playfully, knowing exactly how to sell him the deal. “I’m going to wear my sundress later, the one you love so much. Would you want to miss me in it?”

His hand on your hip bone stilled and you giggled victoriously. Got you.

“So…” Jace smiled sheepishly at you, a small blush coloring his freckled cheeks. “Do you want to take a shower then?”

[urdreamydoodles]

Can you please make an X-Men with a goth reader?? With Logan, Scott, Remy, Rogue, Pietro, etc.

We need more x men that can handle a goth baddie 😭🙏

X-Men x Goth!Reader

How the X-Men react to their gothic s/o

Wrapped in dark elegance, your presence is a mystery, a shadow that moves beside them.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Laura Kinney & Wade Wilson

Oh my god, thank you for this prompt. I hadn't thought of that yet, and now I'm in love. (And yes, the X-Men need a goth baddie) Hope you like it <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan was immediately intrigued by your dark, edgy look. He’s always appreciated individuality, and your gothic style is no exception. There’s a look of quiet admiration in his eyes whenever you’re dressed up in dark attire, heavy eyeliner, and your signature accessories. He finds it a refreshing contrast to his own rugged appearance, and there’s a glint in his eye every time he sees you dressed to the nines in your gothic style.

- Despite his rough-and-tumble nature, Logan has a soft spot for taking care of you when you’re adjusting your outfit or fixing your makeup. He’s rough with his own appearance but becomes surprisingly delicate if you need him to hold a pin, help fasten a corset, or even steady your eyeliner in a moving vehicle. Logan finds a sort of pride in your style and will gruffly mutter about how you don’t need any of it to look “kickass” — though he never actually tells you to change.

- Logan has always been a bit protective, but seeing you in such unique attire intensifies that instinct. Whether you’re out in public or at a party with other mutants, he’s hyper-aware of anyone staring too long or making a comment. Anyone who tries to criticize or judge your appearance will face Logan’s steely glare, and if anyone dares to say something unkind, Logan will growl out a curt, “Watch your mouth.”

- Logan takes you on adventures in the forest, where your aesthetic is at home against dark trees, shadows, and the moonlight casting a pale glow. He notices the way your love of all things dark blends so well with nature, and he’ll sometimes surprise you with gifts like black roses or unique stones that he finds during his travels. There’s an unspoken connection between his wild spirit and your gothic beauty, and he feels that keenly.

- In private, Logan can’t help but be a little captivated by you. When you’re together, he takes a moment to admire you in the shadows, noticing the details in your clothing, jewelry, and makeup. He’ll run his fingers over your darkened nails or twirl a piece of your hair, finding the gothic aesthetic mysterious and alluring. He may be a man of few words, but the way he looks at you says it all.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy was charmed from the moment he saw your gothic look. He’s always been drawn to unique personalities, and your dark, striking style caught his attention immediately. He’s often complimenting your bold choices and teasingly asks if you’re trying to cast a spell on him with your bewitching look. Every time you add something new to your ensemble, he’s the first to notice and give an enthusiastic approval.

- Remy loves accessorizing and will often gift you trinkets and jewelry that he thinks match your aesthetic. He has an eye for detail and will go out of his way to find vintage rings, unique chokers, or bracelets that fit right into your gothic wardrobe. Sometimes he’ll even joke that he “borrowed” it from a wealthy socialite, adding a bit of thrill to each item he gives you.

- Whenever you’re out together, Remy makes it clear to everyone around that he’s proud to be by your side. He doesn’t mind being the center of attention, and he revels in the way people stare at the two of you together. Your gothic style, paired with his smooth Cajun charm, makes you both an irresistible sight, and he absolutely loves the dramatic effect you create as a couple.

- Remy isn’t shy about getting involved in your look either. He’ll sometimes join you in wearing darker colors, occasionally adding a dark coat or some subtle accessories to match your aesthetic. And whenever you put on darker lipstick or smudged eyeliner, he’s quick to lean in, smirking and saying, “Chere, you tryin’ to make a bad boy outta me?” before sneaking a kiss and smudging your lipstick.

- At the end of the day, Remy loves the way your dark, bold look contrasts with his playful nature. In private moments, he’ll trace his fingers over your jewelry or adjust your lace gloves, smiling in admiration. There’s something about your mysterious beauty that makes him feel even more protective and infatuated, and he’ll often pull you close, murmuring about how he’s got a taste for danger — and you’re exactly his type.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is utterly enchanted by your gothic style. To him, it’s a beautiful form of self-expression, and he admires your ability to embrace it so wholeheartedly. His own appearance has always set him apart, and your willingness to stand out with your unique look makes him feel seen and appreciated. He’ll often tell you how striking you look, calling you his “dark angel.”

- While Kurt’s aesthetic might be different, he secretly loves trying out some gothic-inspired touches when he’s with you. Whether it’s a spiked bracelet, a dark cloak, or even dabbling with black nail polish (after much convincing), he’s open to stepping out of his usual look to match your vibe, finding it fun and endearing to share in your aesthetic.

- Kurt is deeply respectful of your style, and he’s fascinated by the meaning behind the gothic elements you choose. He’ll eagerly ask about your jewelry, your makeup, or why you love dark colors. He listens intently to your answers, often seeing your look as a form of art and self-expression. He sees beauty in everything you do, and that extends deeply to your appearance.

- When you’re both out together, Kurt keeps an arm protectively around you, teleporting you out of crowds if he senses anyone staring too much. He knows how judgmental people can be, and he wants you to feel as comfortable and safe as possible. He’ll often take you on night-time adventures, leaping across rooftops with you in his arms, knowing you’ll love the thrill of the city under moonlight.

- Kurt loves your aesthetic so much that he’s inspired to draw you. When he has free time, you’ll catch him sketching in his notebook, creating little drawings of you in various gothic outfits. He never tells you about it until you find his sketches by accident, blushing furiously when you compliment his work. He’d say shyly, “Vhy wouldn’t I vish to capture such beauty?”

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott’s first reaction to your gothic style is one of quiet fascination. As someone who’s usually by the book, he’s intrigued by how unapologetically yourself you are. He’s not exactly one for bold fashion statements, but he admires your confidence and individuality, often finding himself silently captivated by your unique look. He might not say it often, but his lingering glances are unmistakable.

- Scott quickly becomes a bit protective when you’re out in public, especially if people stare or make comments. He’s the type to subtly position himself between you and any potential gawkers, his arm hovering near yours in a quiet but firm show of solidarity. He respects your aesthetic completely, and he doesn’t tolerate any negativity directed your way.

- While Scott may not share your love for gothic fashion, he’ll still make an effort to understand it. He’s the type to do his research and might even surprise you with knowledge about gothic subculture, books, or art. He takes your interests seriously and often engages in thoughtful conversations, eager to understand the things you’re passionate about.

- Although Scott isn’t one for grand gestures, he’s deeply supportive in his own quiet way. He’ll surprise you with thoughtful little gifts—perhaps a book by a gothic author you admire or a vintage item he thinks would suit your style. His love language might be subtle, but he’s always thinking of ways to show his appreciation for the things that make you unique.

- Behind closed doors, Scott’s admiration for your gothic look becomes a little more apparent. He’s endlessly fascinated by the contrast between his own controlled, structured personality and your bold, mysterious beauty. He’ll sometimes run his fingers through your hair, admiring the way it frames your face, and he’ll tell you in his own reserved way just how much he’s in awe of you.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is fascinated by your gothic style and sees it as a beautiful, creative way to express yourself. She finds herself admiring the little details in your attire, the dark layers, intricate jewelry, and the way it all complements your personality. Her curiosity often leads her to ask about your fashion choices, eager to understand what each piece means to you.

- Being empathetic and open-minded, Jean appreciates how you embrace a style that isn’t necessarily “mainstream.” She’ll often compliment you, giving you a gentle smile and reminding you that she loves your unique style. She finds it refreshingly bold and admires how it reflects your inner strength and individuality. Jean occasionally likes to join you in trying out darker makeup or accessories to match your aesthetic, finding the experience fun and bonding.

- Jean’s powers make her sensitive to people’s thoughts, and she’s hyper-aware of the judgmental looks or whispers when you’re both out in public. She’s quick to reassure you telepathically, sending you warm, encouraging thoughts if she senses any discomfort from you. Her presence always feels like a supportive, silent reminder that she’s by your side, and she has a way of making you feel completely understood.

- Sometimes, she’ll surprise you with little gifts that fit your gothic style—a delicate black pendant she found, a book of poetry she thinks you’ll love, or a flower carefully chosen to match your look. Jean’s attentiveness shows in every thoughtful gesture, and she genuinely enjoys finding ways to make you feel cherished and accepted.

- Jean often finds herself captivated by the way your gothic aesthetic contrasts with her own. In private moments, she’ll softly tell you how beautiful and mysterious you look, her gaze filled with admiration. She’ll gently brush a strand of hair from your face, whispering about how she feels lucky to be with someone as unique and bold as you.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue adores your gothic style and finds it incredibly cool. She’s all about breaking the mold, so seeing you embrace a bold, dark aesthetic instantly impresses her. She’s the type to playfully nudge you and say, “You look killer, sugah,” whenever you put together a particularly striking look, and she often asks for style tips to incorporate some gothic elements into her own outfits.

- She loves joining you in shopping trips for gothic clothes and accessories. Rogue has a thing for statement pieces herself, so she’s always on the lookout for something edgy that could match both of your styles. She’s especially drawn to things like dark leather jackets, silver rings, and anything that screams “rebellious”—finding it exciting to shop with someone who has a taste for the unconventional.

- Rogue has a protective streak and won’t stand for anyone disrespecting you or making you feel out of place. If someone stares too long or makes a comment, Rogue has no problem giving them a sharp, intimidating glare. She’s fiercely defensive of your right to express yourself, and she’ll always make sure you feel comfortable and safe being yourself around her.

- Your gothic look and overall vibe sometimes make her feel a bit soft around you, and she loves that. Rogue admires your confidence and how you carry yourself, and she’s grateful for the quiet strength she feels from being with you. Sometimes, when it’s just the two of you, she’ll sit close and tell you how she feels like she’s found a kindred spirit in you—someone who isn’t afraid to stand out.

- In private, Rogue is endlessly affectionate and attentive. She loves taking in all the little details, like how you accessorize or the particular makeup you wear. She’ll sometimes brush her gloved hand across your cheek, marveling at how stunning you look and making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. With you, she can be her true, unfiltered self, and she’s grateful for that.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is immediately intrigued by your gothic aesthetic. He’s a person of elegance and sophistication, but he appreciates when someone dares to be different. He’ll often give you a thoughtful once-over, his piercing gaze lingering on you in silent admiration. Though he doesn’t say much at first, he finds himself fascinated by your unique look and style.

- Erik’s keen intellect often leads him to inquire about the historical roots of the gothic subculture, and he listens intently as you explain its influences. He sees a lot of strength in your choice to embrace a bold, non-conformist style and has a profound respect for your commitment to your aesthetic. He’ll occasionally surprise you with antique jewelry or rare finds that match your taste, finding a sort of thrill in choosing gifts you’ll treasure.

- When you’re out together, Erik is a silent but powerful presence, always by your side and subtly protective. Anyone who dares look down on you or make a judgmental comment will quickly find themselves on the receiving end of his steely glare. He values self-expression and has no patience for those who would try to undermine yours, making it very clear that he respects you fully and will tolerate no less from others.

- He has a refined appreciation for your style, often drawing parallels between it and his own preference for timeless, dignified looks. In private, he’ll run a hand over a piece of your jewelry or trace his fingers along the intricate details of your clothes, remarking in a low voice about how well it all suits you. He finds your appearance mesmerizing and genuinely enjoys the aura of mystery you bring with you.

- Erik doesn’t often show vulnerability, but with you, he finds himself at ease. He admires how your gothic style reflects resilience, a quality he holds dear, and he sees in you a kindred spirit—a reminder of strength in individuality. When it’s just the two of you, he’ll quietly express how he feels lucky to have found someone who embraces the world with such fierce independence.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby is absolutely fascinated by your gothic style. As someone who’s always been a bit playful and lighthearted, he finds your dark, brooding aesthetic to be thrillingly different from anything he’s used to. He’ll often tease you affectionately, calling you his “goth queen” or “dark angel” in that playful way only he can pull off, genuinely admiring your commitment to the look.

- He’s endlessly curious about your fashion choices and will often ask questions about the different elements of your style, from the jewelry to the makeup. Bobby isn’t afraid to experiment either—sometimes you’ll catch him jokingly trying on your rings or attempting your dark eyeliner just for laughs. He loves getting you to crack a smile, even if it means looking a little ridiculous himself.

- Bobby is all about hyping you up in public. He finds your look incredibly cool and will proudly show you off whenever you’re together. If people give you weird looks, he’ll throw an arm around your shoulder and declare, “Yeah, that’s my goth babe—jealous?” His lighthearted energy brings a fun dynamic to your relationship, making you feel completely accepted for who you are.

- Despite his own upbeat personality, Bobby finds your gothic aesthetic deeply captivating. He’s fascinated by how well it reflects your personality, and he often jokes about being “entranced” by your dark, mysterious look. Sometimes, he’ll even ask if you could show him a bit more about the gothic subculture, genuinely interested in learning about something that means so much to you.

- In quiet moments, Bobby is surprisingly thoughtful, admiring your makeup or your choice of accessories in a way that’s tender and sincere. He’ll tell you that you look amazing and that he’s lucky to have someone so unique and bold by his side. Beneath all his jokes, there’s a deep respect for your individuality, and he genuinely loves how your gothic aesthetic adds a layer of mystery and allure to your relationship.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is deeply drawn to your gothic aesthetic and feels an immediate kinship with you. She’s familiar with the feeling of being different, of standing apart, so she instantly understands your choice to embrace a darker look. She loves how your style is unapologetically you and finds comfort in how it resonates with the magic and mystery she herself embodies.

- Wanda is genuinely captivated by the intricacies of your look. She’ll admire the subtle details—maybe a delicate, ornate ring or a shadowed makeup look that speaks to your artistry. Sometimes she’ll playfully use her magic to make a small dark aura shimmer around you, a soft, enchanted touch to match your aesthetic. It’s her way of embracing your uniqueness and showing that she appreciates every part of you.

- When you’re both out together, she’s proud to be seen by your side. If people stare or pass judgment, Wanda doesn’t let it affect her. She’ll take your hand and give you a knowing smile, her quiet confidence making you feel fully accepted. Her serene presence has a calming effect, and you know you’re safe with her, free to be yourself without any need to explain or justify.

- Wanda loves sharing her own story with you, talking about the darker aspects of her past and the magic that’s sometimes misunderstood by others. She feels like you understand her struggles and admires how your gothic style speaks to resilience and defiance. Sometimes, she’ll create small magical gifts for you—a necklace that glows faintly with enchantment or a rose that never wilts, gestures to show her affection and appreciation for who you are.

- In private, she’s incredibly gentle and open, drawn to how your darker style balances her sometimes chaotic world. Wanda will often express how much she cherishes you, how your individuality and strength help her feel more grounded. She finds comfort in your presence, and there’s a deep, almost otherworldly bond that connects you both, as if she’s found a piece of herself in you.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro is absolutely fascinated by your gothic look and finds it incredibly cool. He’s the type to whistle and tease you, calling you his “gothic queen” or “dark angel” with a big, proud grin. Your style is so different from his fast-paced, casual vibe, and he loves how it sets you apart from everyone else he knows.

- He loves showing you off and finds joy in watching other people’s reactions when they see you two together. Pietro has a protective streak, so if anyone gives you a weird look or mutters a snide comment, he’s quick to shut them down with a snappy comeback. He’s proud of your unique style and makes it known that he wouldn’t want you any other way.

- Pietro’s energy is a fun contrast to your aesthetic, and he often makes it his mission to get you to crack a smile. Whether it’s by jokingly trying on your dark lipstick or attempting your makeup style (usually ending up with eyeliner everywhere), he’s always trying to bring some lightheartedness into your day. He loves that your seriousness balances him out, and he always feels like his life is a bit more exciting with you in it.

- He’s incredibly curious about all things gothic and will often ask questions about your music, style, or favorite bands. Sometimes, he’ll surprise you by blasting one of your favorite gothic rock songs while you’re together, just to show he’s been paying attention. He’s always eager to learn more about what makes you tick and is genuinely interested in understanding the darker elements of your personality.

- In quieter moments, Pietro will tell you how lucky he feels to be with someone who’s so unapologetically themselves. He’s a bit of a show-off, but around you, he’s sincere, openly admiring the depth you bring to his life. He loves the contrast between your mysterious vibe and his vibrant personality, and he feels like you’re his perfect opposite, bringing balance to his world.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura’s first reaction to your gothic style is quiet fascination. She’s not one to comment much on appearances, but she admires how self-assured you seem with your unique look. She respects individuality, and your dark aesthetic quickly becomes something she associates with strength and resilience—a reminder that you’re someone who can stand out and face the world on your own terms.

- She’s very protective of you, especially if you’re out together and encounter anyone who looks down on your style. Laura doesn’t tolerate any disrespect, and if she senses anyone judging you, they’ll get a deadly glare. Your relationship with Laura is based on mutual respect, and she’ll go out of her way to make sure you’re never made to feel lesser because of how you look.

- Laura isn’t one for big gestures, but she shows her affection in small, meaningful ways. If she notices a new accessory or makeup look, she’ll give you a subtle nod of approval or say, “You look nice.” It’s her way of showing that she notices the little things and that she values the care you put into your style. Occasionally, she’ll even ask for your input if she wants to try something different with her look, trusting your judgment.

- Sometimes, Laura’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she’ll sit with you to ask questions about the gothic subculture. She respects that there’s a deeper meaning behind your aesthetic, and learning about your interests helps her feel closer to you. She listens intently, taking in every word with her characteristic seriousness, and it’s clear she appreciates the passion you have for your style.

- When it’s just the two of you, Laura lets her guard down and shows a softer side, often complimenting you in her own way. She’ll tell you that you’re “different from anyone else,” and coming from her, it’s the highest praise. With Laura, you know you’re accepted fully, and she values the unique presence you bring to her life, finding comfort and strength in the dark beauty that defines you.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade is absolutely thrilled by your gothic style and finds it ridiculously cool. He’s the type to immediately start calling you his “dark and mysterious love,” and he’s not shy about showing you off. He’ll take you anywhere and everywhere, proudly bragging to anyone who’ll listen about how awesome you look. He loves that your aesthetic stands out and often tries to “match” you in his own chaotic way.

- Being Wade, he’s constantly trying to make you laugh, especially since your serious demeanor intrigues him. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, and make exaggerated compliments about how you’re his “queen of darkness.” He’s always trying to get a smile out of you, relishing the challenge of breaking through your stoic exterior, and finds it endlessly amusing when he actually succeeds.

- Wade also loves dressing up to match your gothic look on occasion, though his interpretations are… creative. He’ll try on dark makeup or leather jackets and end up looking like a rock star from the 80s. Despite how outlandish he looks, his attempts are always genuine, and he adores the way your aesthetic complements his unpredictable personality.

- Wade is surprisingly sensitive to how the world judges appearances and takes it personally if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s fiercely defensive of your right to express yourself and will launch into a full-fledged speech about how amazing you are, shutting down any naysayers with his trademark over-the-top theatrics. With Wade, you know you’ll always be celebrated for exactly who you are.

- In private, Wade will tell you how he admires the confidence and mystery you carry with your style. Beneath his antics, there’s a genuine admiration for your strength and individuality. He’ll hold your hand, make eye contact, and tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, adding with a smirk, “Even if you look like you might summon a demon any second.” It’s his way of saying he’s completely smitten, and he loves you just as you are.

[starryal1na]

—❀ ‧₊˚. 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 850

characters: aventurine, boothill, sunday, dr ratio

notes: this is just soft random thoughts i have about them and needed to write down, no theme in particular, dr ratio wearing glasses does things to me (*≧ω≦*), special thank to my irl friend charlotte (<3) for proofreading this ! divider credit to @/cafekitsune ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Aventurine ⊰ ⊹ ─

Owning himself plenty of jewelry, such as rings or expensive watches, it makes sense that Aventurine would want to gift his lover all kind of sumptuous pieces. Over the years, he has had you displayed with pearly necklaces, the shiniest earrings and even rings with precious gemstones. Undoubtedly you loved every single one of them. Each gift Aventurine has given you were meaningful to you, as a symbol of his deep affection for you. However, you must admit you have a favorite one. A gift from one of your anniversary that you adore more than anything. It might be the most classic piece of jewelry you own in term of appearance, but it holds a special place in your heart.

The gift is a bracelet, a thin gold chain gold with a small aventurine stone at its center. Beyond the fact that it is his stone, what's making this gift even more significant is that Aventurine has one as well. While you wear yours on your left, he wears his on his right wrist below his watch. He intented for the two of you to share matching bracelets you could wear daily and that was subtle enough only the two of you could really notice it through your other extravagant jewels. Since then, one glance at the aventurine bracelet on your wrist and your heart skips a beat ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Boothill ⊰ ⊹ ─

Every other day, Boothill finds himself mesmerized by the way you take care of your hair. Whether you brush it, braid it, decore it with accessories, he watches from afar with the softest glare. The one reserved for you, and you only.

Today is one of those where you've decided to use the cute ribbons you have recently purchased. Sitting confortably in front of your mirror, you feel Boothill's eyes on you as you display the cute accessories on the floor. "Which color do you think I should wear today ?" "Don't know, sugar. They'd all look fudgin' nice in your pretty hair" "That's very helpful thank you, baby". Boothill snickers, his attention splits between his gun he's been checking for a few mintues, and watch you clip a white and pink ribbon to the side of your head, securing a little braid. Fork, she looks so cute like this, he thinks to himself. Oblivious to your overheating cyborg boyfriend next to you, you finish your hairstyle and spin around with a "tadaaa !" only to find him dumbfounded and an adorable flush spreading on his cheeks. "Forkin' hell ! Got myself the prettiest gurl ain't I ?" Naturally, it ended with you pampering his face with kisses and he even lets you tie ribbons in his hair as well ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Sunday ⊰ ⊹ ─

Dearest Sunday was always a bit of a control freak, until he met you. Well he still is one but ever since you've become a couple, his controlling demeanour has somewhat softened. Your presence clearly helped him feel loved and needed, satisfying the yearn to be someone's special one. In the intimacy of your relationship, he has grown more laid-back, to the point of allowing you to touch his precious wings.

This has become one of your favorite ways to demonstrate your love, carefully and tenderly caressing his feathers. They're so delicate you often worry you'll hurt him, but it actually helps Sunday relax. "Do not worry, my angel. Think of it as a hug. It is warm and very comforting for me" he once reassured you. Afterwards, it became a routine for the two of you. Sunday coming home from an exhausting day, you helping him rest by gently stroking his pretty wings. You even make sure to rub the base, where the tiniest feathers are, and the contented sighs he releases reassure you that you’re doing a really good job ♡

─ ⊹ ⊱ Dr Ratio ⊰ ⊹ ─

Usually, when you look at Veritas, the words circulating in your mind are often along the lines of handsome, gorgeous, sexy, serious..... angry. However in the evening, it's different. Sitting in his favorite comfy chair, he pulls you onto his his lap and puts on his glasses to read. You're aware you should focus on your own book but those glasses perched on top of his nose are seriously distracting you. This time, your mind fills with nothing but cute cute cute cute cuuuute. Obviously, he feels your stare on him –of course he does– it's not like you're being subtle anyway. Still, he pretends to act oblivious until you're the one bringing it up.

As he turns a page of his book, you shift on his lap. "Come on. Say it." His tone is serious, yet playful. "You... Cute." You blurt out, immediatly covering your face to cover the prominent blush on your face. "Darling, have you lost your ability to form full sentences ?" His cocky smirk making your blush worsen, nuzzling your head on his neck to hide it. Smiling down at your pouting and flushed face, he returns his attention back to his book. Although you go back to reading as well, he knows you’re sneaking glances at him every so often ♡

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

[erwinsvow]

“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

[callmecrazy4u2]

HSR Version: Your Yandere Likes you in his colors..Aventurine, Ratio, More to come

Anonymous gifts at your door pile up. Who do you choose?

"Don't protest dear these clothes look wonderful on you darling"

A Cheshire cat he smiles satisfied he had dressed you in his colors to claim you.

Aventurine- green gold teal- Possessive! Peacock!Yandere

Aventurine is sure to shower his love with clothes in a Jewelike tone that matches his eyes and his own flamboyant attire. The first his gloves he slips off or perhaps his coat seeing you pathetic thing shaking in the cold.

Aventurine laughs off any protests "You look cold my dear and you pull off those colors quite well"

Pehrs he'll take it further and wrap you in his coat only to give you one like his own later as he enjoyed seeing you in his quite a lot. His mind drifts to other scenarios you might be in his clothes for....

A signature feather caught up in a headband. For a party a speakeasy-style "Sweetie just loosen up lets enjoy the parties in penaconys" as with wink escort to 90s bar in Penacony for some swing dancing.

Lastly, the Gift that binds you as his: A large jeweled necklace a mimicry of his own Aventurine stonearound your neck. The right noose for the stone of trickery to hang on your pretty neck to stake his claim.

owl mask pin - Dr. Ratio - blue gold - Always right taskmaster teacher

For better or worse you managed to reach the standard of the intellgentisua guild and your proctor why Dr. Ratio whos sharp eye always seemed to watch you in class analyzing your every move.

Dr.Ratio would start out simple maybe a owl bookmark to "keep you reading to avoid falling into ignorance and idiocy" his eyes on you as a new member of the intelligencia guild tasked to mentor you.

To supervise your effort though with your clumsiness he wonders how you had tripped into the elite group. Eventually, upon watching you he believes your hard work can make up for any lack of talent.

Dr. Ratio just wanted to teach you to do it right and "You need the right materials to succeed" Dr. Ratio says as you press upon you another a expensive gift a ink well owl feather pen. Though unaware of the value if you break it he can find some way for you to make it up to him.....

"Congratulations somehow you passed the intellgenstia's passed rigous exam" Dr. Ratio drawls earning your a rare smile from him

Dr.Ratio pins the ceremonial owl pin on your robe similar to his "As every graduate has" he calmly tells you.

secretly Yandere!Dr Ratio just wanted you to match clothing

Dr. Ratio leans in to pin the medal he instructs you to see him later for extra lessons....

More concepts to come

Gift - HSR guy- color theme- type of yandere

lion choker -Jing Yuan - smothering delusional yandere

sword hairpin- blade- dangerous yandere

dragon bracelet -dan heng/danfeng- protective yandere

dove ring- Sunday- controlling yandere

-singer at a show on stage fall for robin rival while staking her out and capture her in work contract to sing only for him

[aroacenezhaanddainsleif]

"demon child"

i think lmk li jing should have been worse :)

"Father-" Nezha's mech takes a step forward, metal clanging against the asphalt.

Li Jing swirls around, glaring with a gaze filled with both anger and fear. "SILENCE!" He snarls, lifting the pagoda in one bracelet-clad hand. "Do not make me subdue you once more, Nezha."

Nezha is no fool. He knows all of them can see him flinch, even through the layers of iron and steel. He knows all of them can see the spear waver in his mech's fingers, foot shifting backward out of defense.

Ever the savior, Wukong steps forward to his defense, brown-orange fur bristling. "Hey, what the fuck, Li?" He snarls, tail swishing in agitation. "Us I get, but your own son?"

Nezha's father raises his pagoda, glare tightening the wrinkles around his eyes. "You have no right to judge me, simian. Or shall I remind you-" the seal upon the circlet reactivates, and Nezha can only watch in horror as Wukong cries out in pain, dropping to his knees. The rest of his friends- can Nezha even call them his friends, with how little he knows of them?- try to resist the tug of the pagoda's magic, but their feet start to slip.

He doesn't want to go back to that lotus-painted door again. He doesn't want to be crushed and confined under a heavy floor again. He doesn't want his tongue silenced and his actions subdued again. He doesn't want to be trapped ever again.

...But isn't he now?

Trapped in compliance, frozen in time as he watches them lose this fight?

Nezha is no fool.

He knows he is a hound that has been muzzled and chained- he knew that when they took away his strongest weapons and raised a pagoda at him for harboring the slightest thoughts of disobedience. He has always known.

But for the sake of the trust MK talked of, for the sake of what Nezha once stood for- a two-handed spear breaks through the pagoda's cyclone, severing the magic. Nezha can only watch as the dragon girl yells for Mr. Tang, everyone staring at him with confusion and pity as a golden glow takes them far away.

He knows his punishment. He knows why the pagoda was created.

He leaves his mech, bowing his head before his father as he awaits what is due.

"...Return to the Celestial Realm."

He is given a mercy. An unexpected one, at that, but one that makes his bowed head sigh toward the asphalt with relief. As of now, his use outweighs his disobedience.

He watches his father take off toward the horizon, mumbling an apology as he disappears from the festively lit alleyway in a swirl of lotus petals. He knows what it's like to be a chaos child, destined for destruction- he can only hope MK will have a happier tale than he did.

"...So hey, are we just going to gloss over what the fuck just happened with Nezha??" Mei asks once she's back on her feet within the mountain cavern, gesturing wildly at Wukong to explain.

"He-" Wukong starts, then stops, scratching his arm. "His dad... I knew something about it, but I always thought people were exaggerating. Cause c'mon, Nezhy? I know he's got a temper, but that-"

"Monkey King, WHAT are you talking about?" MK scratches his head, leaning on Mei with a similarly confused expression.

Wukong hesitates, pacing against the stone ground of the temple, then sighs. He opens his mouth-

And is beat to it.

"That pagoda was created to subdue Nezha." Tang interrupts. He pushes his glasses farther up his nose, focusing his gaze on crumbling towers high above. "...I remember the story now."

When he's finished regaling the tale in a quiet tone, the Monkie Gang has reeled through a rollercoaster of emotions- anger, disgust, pity, sympathy, and rage. Pigsy rolls up his sleeves, marching out towards the nearest wall with a loud "I'm gonna go back and give that fuckin' 'father' of his a piece of my goddamn mind-"

Sandy lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, steering the chef back. "Pigsy. Not right now." He says, although nobody misses the clenched fist of his other hand.

Wukong sighs. "...I always thought people were playing it up, but... I guess not." He closes his eyes, trying to reign in the feeling of guilt bubbling up inside him. To think he bullied Nezha for it, not understanding just how conflicted he must have been... Most definitely not for the first time in Wukong's life, he feels like an idiot who failed a friend. But there's nothing he can do about it now- so he rolls his shoulders back, settling his bristling fur as he waves everyone towards the stone passageway. "Welp! Traumatic backstories aside, time to get the world-saving-adventure underway, everyone!"

As for Nezha... They'll all just have to hope he's alright.