#nonetheless if anyone wants it. ask and ye shall receive

[bilbao-song]

photos yoinked from an ad ca. early 1972

[curtklingermanposts]

Trust and Humility

So, You Want to be Trusted

When someone says, “You can trust me,” do you? Perhaps, you’ve used that one yourself. What was the response? Most do want to be considered trustworthy, but some have track records that say otherwise. Broken trust can be mended when a person is given a chance, but it takes a long time. One step towards becoming or remaining trustworthy is self-awareness. That means brutal honesty with oneself. If you’re not honest with yourself, how can you be honest with others?

Do you want God to trust you with the things of His Kingdom? Some have wanted a position in the Church, but don’t understand why they don’t have it. Of course, it begs the question: why do they want it? This gets back to self-awareness, because it is important to know what motivates us.

 We all know that in order to be trusted with big things, we first have to be proved with the little things. How we do small things often indicates how we do big things.

Luke 16:10 He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much: and he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much.

Trust Requires Humility

Who would you trust more, the one who is humble, or the one who is arrogant? What does self-awareness require? Humility, and without it, one cannot be trusted. Prideful, self-willed people often find it difficult to submit to authority. For instance, if they think their way is better, they will go that route, instead of following the instructions given to them. Sometimes they are better; sometimes they are not. People are often given leeway to alter the way of doing things, if they find a better way of doing them. Nonetheless, if that discretion has not been given, what then? Some of them might say, “Just do it, and ask for forgiveness later!”

That does not work when it comes to the Kingdom. By the way, if you’re not submissive to the authority God placed over you, you’re not being submissive to Him. One might ask, “Yea, but what if they want us to do something contrary to His Word?” The simple answer: submit to the Word. But that’s not the issue at hand; it’s the attitude or spirit behind it.

Colossians 3:22-25 Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God: And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that doeth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done: and there is no respect of persons.  

God often uses those He places over us to train us to be submissive to Him. In this instance, it is important to know who God has actually placed in authority over us. We are the sheep of His pasture, but we are not blind sheep who follow just anyone.

  If one will not submit to someone whom he can see, how can a person say he will submit to the One Whom he cannot see? The point is those who are humble, allow themselves to be led.  They are willing to obey, regardless of their understanding. That means they can be trusted. Jesus is the Perfect Example: He did only what He saw the Father do, and said only what He hear Him say.

perfectfaith.org

[clairecrive]

hi!!! can I ask for darkling smut after he and the reader get in an argument? like it starts out angry but by the end they're super passionate and cuddly? thank you and congrats on so many followers!!

A/n: you ask and you shall receive, hun! I love writing this so so much. I hope you'll like to read it too. Thanks for requesting and for your words xx This is also for this anon.

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff at the end

Word count: 2.9 K

Tags: @blackst0nes7077, @thefictionalgemini, @louweasleymalfoy @jupiterandbutterflies , @for-bebbanburg, @tarkanelima-blog, genre), @pansysgirlfriend, @acciorudolphx, @kaqua , @hannaxmaria, @vintagebitc, @deardiarystuff (if you want you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

“You will not believe what-” y/n had the habit of not knocking before entering his room. The general had been more than annoyed with her initially, but she insisted that it was a way for him to distinguish her from everyone else.

Hear the door open? You don’t have to guess who it is, you’ll know it’s me, she used to tell him.

Now, however, she was wishing she didn’t have that habit in the first place. Stumbling into a room, your partner’s room, to find him standing way too close to another girl, wasn’t on her list for tonight. Maybe a warning would have been nice but at the same time, if she had knocked she wouldn’t have found them this way.

Her initial enthusiasm at the prospect of sharing this gossip with him had suddenly vanished. The smile on her face turned into a frown as Alina cleared her voice and took a step away from the general for decency’s sakes. Too late, y/n wanted to tell her.

It was painfully clear what she had interrupted. She willed her face to set into an emotionless expression but she couldn’t help a glance in Aleksander direction. Arms behind him, he looked nothing but proper and collected. But y/n knew him, probably better than anyone else in this world, and had learnt how to read his body. His jaw was clenched which meant that he wasn’t as calm as he wanted to appear.

Good, y/n thought, let him drown in guilt and misery.

Clearing her voice, she realized she had been standing there without saying anything for too long.

“I’m so sorry, General, I didn’t know you were busy. I should have knocked,” she excused herself without looking at them. “I’ll leave you to it.” With a slight nod, she added before hightailing out of the room.

She could feel Alina’s questioning gaze on her back as she closed the door behind her. There were already rumours going around about her supposed relationship with the General. No one knew for certain, neither y/n nor Kirigan had ever bothered confirming or denying them. Now though, she knew that words of this little encounter would spread, further cementing the already existing gossip.

Oh well, she thought as she walked to her room, by the looks of it there wasn’t going to be a relationship to gossip about anymore.

Her bedroom had lost every sense of familiarity and comfort a private space like this should have. She hardly ever slept in it anymore. Not since she and the general had become a thing. She only went there to change and so slipping into the bed felt weird and anonymous. As if she was in someone else’s bed and not hers.

Her sleep was doomed to be restless, she knew. However, tomorrow’s busy schedule prompted her to at least try and get some sleep. Even if it only was a couple of hours. Shuffling to change position she tried to keep Aleksander out of her mind.

An unachievable task, she was aware but she tried nonetheless. Things between them had been tense ever since he had come back to the Little Palace with her. y/n knew of his plans. She knew why he needed to do certain things and how Alina was involved. That didn’t mean she was fine with it though.

Not only did it bother her the fact that he was stripping the girl of her will and powers eventually but it also bothered her that he had chosen to get to her by manipulating her feelings. They had had countless fights because of this but nothing ever came out of it. A centuries-long existence meant that he was stubborn beyond belief and there was no way of making him change his mind once it was set on something.

After what she had witnessed today though, y/n wondered if the jokes were on him and he did end up feeling something genuine for Alina. Y/n herself had met her and spoke with her a couple of times and she had to admit begrudgingly that she wasn’t that bad.

Lost in her thoughts, y/n was snapped out of it by a loud knock at her door. As soon as she started to wonder who could be bothering her at this hour, the door opened and she stopped guessing.

Of course, it was him.

“I’m in no mood to talk to you, Aleksander. Please go.” She spoke, not bothering to turn towards where she knew he was standing. Y/n knew that while she couldn’t see him in the dark this wasn’t true for him. Shadows didn’t hinder his view like they did everyone else, they were an extension of him.

He didn’t speak but she also didn’t hear him walking away. She let out a sigh and that was the only way she was willing to acknowledge him. He wanted to stand in the shadow and stare like a creep? Fine, two could play this game.

Set on ignoring him, she stubbornly stared ahead of her. She was very aware of his eyes on her, stinging like needles. If sleep was arduous to achieve before now it was impossible. In any case, she closed her eyes and pretended to be at least. He wouldn’t know the difference and would leave her alone at some point.

But of course, she knew him well enough by now and he wasn’t as easily deterred. She didn’t know how much time passed but her eyes flew open as she felt her bed dip. Her breath hitched and she laid on full alert.

Then she felt the shadow of his touch on her neck and knew that he was close. Way too close that he should be. He was probably propped on his arm as she felt her pillow dip too.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He whispered close to her ears, his lips suggestively tracing her earlobe.

Despite the chills that his touch would usually send to her body, y/n stifled a treacherous gasp. Instead, her body stiffened and she almost pushed him away but she wasn’t sure that touching him wouldn’t backfire.

“If you think I’d let you lay a finger on me after you touched her, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Who says I did?”

“Please, stick to manipulating one girl, okay? Move. away.”

He didn’t reply but the hand that was on her neck moved to her shoulder and pushed back so that she was laying on her back and facing him. Well, the darkness was too thick for her to actually see his face but she could feel his breath.

“Do not push me away.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Y/n bite back.

“You’re well aware of my plans, don’t act so betrayed now.”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of being a pawn in your schemes.”

“A pawn isn’t aware of its role nor of the whole plan.”

“Being smart with me won’t help, Aleksander. You want Alina? Fine, go get her. But leave me out of this.” Pulling her face free of his grip, she turned on her side. The shadows around him had dissipated a bit, allowing you to glimpse at his face.

“You cannot do this, y/n.” he growled, pushing her on her back again, “you said you were in this. You said you wanted me, that you were going to be by my side always. You can’t just change your mind. You can’t.” His voice was strangled with emotion almost breaking on some words.

Y/n had never heard his voice so filled with sorrow. Because that’s what he must be feeling. She thought that he was also feeling betrayed by her but then she realized-- no, he was afraid. Afraid of losing her.

He knew what he did and he also was aware that y/n was not one to mess with. She was just as stubborn as he was and just as prideful. What she had seen had hurt her and it was only what she felt for him that prevented him from being mindlessly dismissed and removed from her life. She had not resisted him more forcefully because she cared, because the wound was still french and that meant that there was still a tiny hope left.

“That was before you fell for another woman. I can’t stand by and watch you be with her. You can’t ask that of me.” She whispered, meeting his eyes. No matter how much she loved him, that was simply something she was not willing to put herself through.

“That’s not what I’m asking. That’s not what's happening.” He pledged. Y/n didn’t know if it was a trick of the moonlight seeping in from her window but she saw his eyes well with unshed tears.

“Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.” He insisted, his hand on your jaw holding it closer. “Alina is a pawn, Alina doesn’t know what is going to happen, she doesn’t know me.” Heaving a sigh, Aleksander held her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“There is no one on this earth that has ever seen me more clearly than you do, solnishko. I know what you saw, I know what it looked like because that was intentional. But I trust you to know the difference between what it’s really happening and what it looks like because they’re not the same.” His eyes were alive with an intensity y/n had only seen a few times before. He was ancient and he was skilled at manipulation amongst other things. She always tried to keep that in mind but now, looking at him, she couldn’t help but feel like he was being genuine.

Why would he want me near? There wasn’t an ulterior motive for wanting her by her side. Yes, she was the only one who knew about his plans but that wasn’t it. If it was, he would have simply killed her. Took less time than this. Also, y/n knew that the power was in her hands. If she said no, that she couldn’t do this anymore, she was sure that Aleksander would let her go.

“But the way you were looking at her, Aleks, I just-” a lump formed in her throat as she recalled the look on his face, “you’re spending more and more time with her and I can’t help but fear that- I mean she’s literally the embodiment of sunshine.”

“You’ve never seen the way I look at you, then.” Thumb trailing over her lower lip now, he gave her a weak smile. “I swear that there’s no one dearer to me than you.”

“I’m not sure I can’t stand the idea of you kissing and touching her, Aleksander, I’m sorry.” Y/n insisted as well because she knew him and she knew that the way she worded things was crucial.

“That won’t happen then.” He assured but she was still not fully convinced.

“I promise it won’t come to that.” So Aleks rephrased. It was better but still not good enough. But they could work on that surely.

“It seems to me though, that I have not done a good job at showing you what you meant to me. I need to reinforce it, don’t you think?” He proposed, using the hand on her face to pull her closer to him.

“I agree.” y/n mumbled on his lips before they smashed together. She didn’t wait for him to initiate the kiss. She thought she had lost him tonight and had already been trying to plan her life without him. She wasn’t willing to waste any more time. She was going to show everyone that he was hers and only hers so as not to leave any more doubts around them. Fuck gossip.

Propping herself on her elbow she used it as leverage to reach up to meet him. The hand he had on her face moved backwards to hold her head while her hand did the same in his hair. Both of them pulled the other impossible close, not willing to leave the smallest of spaces between them.

Sitting up, y/n used her other hand to first the lapel of his kefta. She quickly unfasted the buttons to get rid of it before she pushed him on his back.

“She thinks she has a chance, uh.” She taunted as she straddled his waist, roughly gathering her sleeping gown around her waist while his hands instantly shot up to rest on her hips.

“She thinks she’ll be as lucky as seeing you like this?” she continued, her hands caressing his naked chest, “that she’ll have the chance of touching you? kissing you?” she leaned down, one hand at the nape of his head to make him meet her halfway. It wasn’t a long kiss, she needed to make a point after all. Pulling away, she bit his lower lip earning a moan from him.

“To feel you like this?” she whispered in his mouth as her hips wiggled over his clothed member. His hands tightened his hold on her hips, pushing her down on it increasing the pressure.

“She’s delusional,” Aleks gasped as her mouth trailed kisses along his jaw and neck where it nipped and sucked.

“Mh,” y/n agreed, “let’s make sure she knows.” She promised before her mouth went back to sucking a few hickeys on his neck. Aleks only moaned and gave her more space to work on. His hands trailed up from her waist, cupping her breasts before playing with her nipples.

As her mouth lowered on his collarbone, Aleks decided that enough was enough. His hands roughly gripped the end of her gown before hastily pulling it up and off her body. One arm snaked over her waist pulling her flush against him as he sat up.

“Enough teasing,” he warned as the hand that wasn’t on her quickly discarded his undergarments.

“As you wish, moy sovregni,” she whispered sultrily on his lips knowing fully what effect those words had on him. Aleksander growled on her mouth, his hands kneading her ass cheeks as he gently lowered her on him.

Gasping as she felt every inch of him enter her, y/n gripped his shoulders as she started to move. Aleks’ hands guided her as she set a steady pace.

“She’s never going to feel your hands on her body,” she breathed as Aleks’ hips snapped up, setting a rougher pace.

“You’re mine.” She growled possessively on his lips as her hips met his.

“I’m yours, y/n. Just as you’re mine.” His tone matched hers. He sealed his promise with a bruising kiss. The trusting was becoming more and more frantic and Aleks’ could feel y/n clench around him.

With no previous warning, he lowered his hands from her ass to her thighs so that he could hold her while he changed their position. Guiding her legs to wrap around his waist, Aleksander leaned on his knees while he pushed her upper body down with his chest. Y/n gasped on his lips not knowing if it was for the movement, for the change of position that meant that he was now able to reach deeper than before or because she could feel her orgasm approaching.

Whatever the reason may be, Aleks swallowed her gasp as his lips refused to leave hers. Snapping his hips, he moved his hands from her legs. One went to stimulate her clit while the other choked her lightly. He knew that this combo would prove to send her over the edge. Not long after, as a matter of fact, he felt y/n’s nails on his shoulders as well as her walls tightening around him. He was not behind.

While y/n whimpered his name over and over as her orgasm hit her, Aleksander’s thrusts began to falter. With one deep thrust, he emptied inside her, obscene sounds leaving his mouth.

He leaned over y/n’s body, both of their breaths heavy, they basked in the afterglow. Aleks’ head rested over her chest, comforted by her steady heartbeat while y/n’s hands trailed over his back.

Once their breath had levelled and they could regain control over their limbs, Aleks propped himself over his elbow, his nose nuzzling y/n’s making her giggle at the soft touch. She loved these rare moments of softness and intimacy between them. If she could, she’d never let them end.

“I promise you’ll never have to doubt me again.”

“If you keep this up, it’d be impossible for me to.” She chuckled, referring to her limp body. She couldn’t trust her body to move. Sex with Aleksander always had this effect on her.

“Good to know I can still satisfy you.” He smirked as he leaned down for a small kiss. Giggling on his lips, y/n pulled him close, making him rest his weight on her rather than his elbow.

“I’m thoroughly sated, my love. You have nothing to worry about in that department.” Aleks couldn’t see her but could feel the smirk on her lips. Intertwining their legs, he got more comfortable on her. Her arms held him in a tight embrace.

“You’ll do well to remember it, dearest.” His voice came out muffled since his face rested between her breasts but y/n got what he meant anyway. Laughing at the idea that she could ever need anyone else, y/n held him closer to her chest. The embrace her form of a promise to him.

She had everything she’d ever need right here in her arms.

[starrconch]

Hi! Can I request a Zhongli (back to when he was still Rex Lapis) x fem!Hydro Archon reader? Thanks in advance, can't wait to see what you come up with!

HYDRO ARCHON READER

★ Includes: Zhongli, female reader

★ Word Count: 1745

★ Master List

★ Notes: thank you for the request! I'm loving the archon readers lately, it's been fun learning about some lore :D Also exams who? Zhongli is too tempting and I may have gone a little overboard...

★ Edit: part two is here >:)

ZHONGLI

★ The archon war was just under a century ago and the water could still remember it. That’s what you loved about the water, it could remember anything it pleased and for as long as it desired, as it was almost as eternal as you were, being the hydro archon and all.

★ You were most renowned for your Oceanid spies that could submerge themselves into the water and listen in to anyone’s conversations. Whether it be a small puddle or an entire lake, they could do it.

★ You had sent one of your finest spies, Rhodeia, to the nation of Liyue being built from the ground up by the god of war. It was a place supposedly filled with prosperous trades and a currency called mora, which you wanted to find more about.

The waterfalls in your throne room gushed and spluttered as Rhodeia emerged from one of them, making her way over to you and kneeling before you. “My queen,” she began, “I’m sorry I have failed you.”

“Failed me?” You chuckled a little nervously. “You have done no such thing. Now, what do you have to report to me from Liyue?”

Something was wrong, you could feel it. The water outside of the room felt strange. It weaved through the air back to you, holding whispers of an intruder located nearby. It urged you to eliminate the possible threat and keep your people safe.

“I-” It pained your spy to utter her next words. “I got caught by the geo archon. He’s waiting outside to speak with you.” Tears formed in the Oceanid’s eyes. She’d failed you, her one job to serve as a spy and go unnoticed was gone.

“Hey!” You got off of your throne and knelt before your spy, wiping the tears from her already water-like body. “There’s no need for tears, you did as I asked and I am thankful to you for that. Everyone makes mistakes every once in a while. I will not punish you for it.”

“Thank, your highness.” She lowered her head and sank into the floor, becoming one with a puddle that sat below her.

Sighing, you got back onto your throne and called out to your guards, “bring him in!”

Rex Lapis was a sight to behold indeed. He wore a long white cloak with the hood up, adorned with several symbols in bronze that represented geo and war. Underneath, he wore a skin-tight black shirt that also acted as gloves, covering his fingers and the majority of his neck. Golden glowing veins trailed up his arms, a similar hue to his amber eyes which glowed almost as fiercely.

“Y/N, the goddess of justice, how very nice it is to meet your acquaintance.” He did not dare kneel, for he was in his own right just as powerful as you were.

“As is it to also meet you, Rex Lapis. What brings you here today without any notice of your arrival?”

“Well, you see, I found an Oceanid in the reflection of one of the ponds around Liyue Harbour and so I returned her to you. What I came here to ask was what information you needed.” He crossed his arms. His swaying motion gave you a chance to see his hair in a rat-tail flowing out of a hole in the back of his cloak.

“And you want to give this information to me willingly?” You raised a brow, tapping your fingers against your throne. Rhodeia was still in the room listening in, you could feel her in the water beside you. You could only hope that he didn’t want your best spy publicly punished in exchange.

“With a trade perhaps, if you’re willing. I shall give you the information you desire in exchange for a favour to Liyue if my nation should ever need help. Is that a deal?”

You paused for a moment to think the trade through. It seemed genuine enough, but it was strange how he didn’t want anything to do with Rhodeia. Maybe it was just his way of ruling, but you were thankful nonetheless. “Alright, we have a deal.”

Stepping down from your throne, you held out your hand for him to shake to confirm the exchange, which he accepted. The closer you got to him, the more you realised how good he looked from up close, making butterflies appear in your stomach.

“What would you like to know about Liyue?” A smile formed on his lips, forcing your cheeks to heat ever so slightly.

★ You asked how such a basic, lowly nation had suddenly become so successful and prosperous. Rex Lapis returned with the answer of everyone pitched in to make Liyue the way it currently is. It hasn’t just been him, the archon, putting in all the work.

★ When you had nothing left you could think of to ask, he left, warning you to not send any more spies his way and to just contact him instead to see him and ask him more information. But why would you do it when that way he could easily keep secrets from you?

★ After a few weeks of waiting, you sent a different spy into the grounds of Liyue with the intention of finding out more about this thing they called mora. Soon enough, they returned.

“Mora are small circles of gold that the citizens carry around with them to use in trades. This is so they don’t have to use personal belongings anymore and they can get food easily.” The Oceanid knelt deeply before you.

“And you didn’t get caught, correct?”

“Correct, my queen.”

Then who was standing outside, one foot in a puddle, waiting with your guards? Using your vision, you called a stream of water back to you to give you more information. From the whispers of knowledge you received, you concluded that Rex Lapis was the one visiting you once again.

“So, you know nothing of the man standing outside?”

Your spy looked up, confused. “No, my queen. I haven’t got any information on that.”

Humming in suspicion, you leant back on your throne. “We shall talk later, for now, have the guards bring in Rex Lapis.”

“Yes, my queen.”

The geo archon crossed his arms, more annoyed than the last time you two saw each other. “If you’d like to see me so much, perhaps we should make a proper contract to exchange information on a regular basis?”

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “You can start with this: how do you keep finding my spies?”

“It’s simple.” Rex Lapis began to pace back and forth as he spoke. “I made a contract with them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Your spies had betrayed you? No, not all of them surely. Rhodeia would never dare. She was loyal. They were all loyal, weren’t they?

“When they get to Liyue, they seek me and tell me of your plans. In return, I will give you the information you require and they may leave my nation intact.”

How dare he. All you had wanted was information and the slight chance of seeing him again. You had to admit, your thoughts had lingered on him throughout your time apart, now you could do nothing but chide yourself. This was how you were rewarded.

“And for mora, why are you so concerned over my currency?” You watched as he outstretched his arm, a small coin-like shape appearing in his skin before dropping. He caught the circle that he no doubt recognised as mora.

“It’s not much of a concern, merely curiosity.”

After a moment of silence, the god of war spoke again, “if you’d like, I could integrate it into Fontaine. I’ve been dreaming of this invention to spread across Teyvat to make trades and contracts much easier.”

You were in no place to deny as he already had a firm grasp on your spies, but did you even want to deny him? How better to learn about this currency than to bring it into your home?

★ The two of you discussed back and forth what bringing mora into Fontaine would require, leaving you unknowing that you were indeed the first step for mora becoming a worldwide currency.

★ Years went by of Rex Lapis coming back and forth every month or so to replenish your stocks of mora. You loved to watch as he did so, the coins appearing in his body and then falling to his feet, letting you notice how exhausted it made him.

★ Always afterwards you invited him to dine with you to help replenish his strength and also exchange information about your nations. As the two of you grew closer, you began to realise that you were falling for him.

It was getting too much, your admiration for him, your desire to see and touch him. You needed it all and it was getting unbearable without his presence, but you had no idea if Rex Lapis felt the same way about you.

Your Morax. It was a little nickname you had given him from watching him produce all those coins, a mixture between Rex and mora. You began to imagine what he would look like if you ever called him that, so entranced with this thought that you didn’t hear him calling you name.

“Y/N?” He called a little louder, reaching out for your hand that had been swirling your tea in its cup. The geo archon had brought some along with him from Liyue for you to try. According to him, it was his favourite

You jumped at the contact, suddenly looking up into his amber eyes. “Oh sorry, yes?”

He chuckled at your flustered appearance, taking another sip of his tea. “It seems that another contract is in order.”

“Another? What for this time?” Had you done something wrong? If you had, surely he would voice his concerns.

“Would you be inclined to forge a contract together to be each other’s partner? I’ve heard it’s quite the custom among mortals.” He turned away, nervousness running through his body.

Your heart felt as though it dropped from its safety in your chest. Did you hear him correctly? Were you zoned out again and just hearing what you wished to hear?

You shot up from your seat and wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The vibrations of his deep laugh reverberated through you as he replied, “I shall take that as a yes.”

[hellogoodbye14]

Okay I dunno if you take fic requests but I would love to read one from you based on this prompt 💕💕💕💕

Azriel complaining to Rhys about Nyx bullying him because he keeps asking for hugs and kisses and its harmful to his broody bat facade and "Cauldron Rhys I can't babysit him, HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO HIM!!!??" while Rhys laughs and the distressing effects of an adorable child on his spymaster.

I m just a sucker for fluff and fun and Uncle Az 😁😁😁

Ask and you shall receive fam ❤️ (also might have gone overboard with this but oh well!)

“Unci Assshh!”, yelled the adorable toddler from across the training field.

Nyx was walking - well more like stumbling- between Feyre and Rhys who each held onto one of his tiny hands to help him balance his walk.

His tiny wings ruffled with each excited step and Rhys just laughed at Nyx’s clumsiness and determination to get to the spymaster.

Feyre and Rhys let go as they neared Azriel and Nyx threw himself at Azriels right leg. Azriel chuckled and ruffled his nephews head. Nyx as usual tried to crawl up Azriels long leg and managed to get to his thigh this time. Azriel gently grabbed Nyx by the scruff of his shirt behind Nyx’s head, like one holds up a puppy. Nyx squeeled with laughter and reached out to play with the shadows around him.

“Hey little troublemaker”, said Azriel as he carefully moved Nyx to his shoulders. The toddler was now joyfully yanking at Azriels hair.

Feyre winced, “sorry Az, he’s been yanking at everyones hair these days.”

Azriel just smiled and said it was no problem at all.

His highlord then gave him a list. Yes a list. One he always gave if Nyx was left with anyone who had to babysit. He had the list at each of the houses. One specifically addressed to every.single.person. To say Rhys was a motherhen was an understatement.

Feyre just rolled her eyes at her mate and motioned Azriel to bend down so she could give Nyx a peck goodbye.

“Be good for uncle Az”

“Unciiii Asssshhhhh!” , the toddler yelled in excitement.

Rhys smiled at his son, “we’ll be back from winter court in about two hours at most. Thank you for doing it again. Oh also under any circumstances NO sugar for him.”

Azriel nodded as Rhys reached up and ruffled Nyx’s hair who in return waved at his father and said “byeee daaaaa!”

Azriel was about to turn and take Nyx flying when he bumped into Gwyn.

“Oh hey!” , but the valkyrie was already cooing at Nyx who now reached out his hands to be picked up by Gwyn.

“Look at you, you little munchkin!”, she grabbed his tiny fist and pretended to munch on them, “oh i could just eat you up.”

Nyx squeeled with laughter.

“Umm.. I’m still here you know.”

Gwyn looked up at a frowning Azriel.

“You get my attention at training everyday, this one is too adorable to ignore.”

Azriel shook his head and rolled his eyes. His shadows as always were reaching out to Gwyn, and Nyx was taking full advantage of it and playing with them.

“Guys!”

Emerie came running out, “we need to go to Illyria for a bit, Nesta says they need help with the commanders meeting.”

Azriel frowned, “Cassian needs me to look over the trainees while he deals with the commanders?”

“Yeap”

“I have Nyx. I can’t train them.”

“He said you only have to stay and overlook it. Give some pointers, not engage them in any training yourself. He’s swamped.”

Azriel reached out to Rhys and Rhys offered his approval to take Nyx with.

Gwyn frowned down at the toddler,

“Will it be safe for him to be there?”

“Feyre says Rhys has a shield around Nyx which equates to the shield around Velaris. Besides he’s with us, it’ll be fine.”

“What did Rhys say?”, asked a surprised Emerie.

Azriel smiled, “He wanted to come back and take Nyx but Feyre told him to shut up and stop being so over dramatic.”

Emerie laughed, “sounds like Feyre. Okay lets go.”

Luckily, the weather at Illyria was on the mild side today, Azriel regardless made sure Nyz was covered and warm. The toddler was taken with Gwyn, not that Azriel could blame him. Any time Gwyn tried to leave the ring, the toddlers face would scrunch up, alerting everyone that he will wail like hell if Gwyn leaves.

Azriel had Nyx buckled and wrapped against his torso, and the toddler squeeled, clapped, and offered “wooaows” at the training illyrians. The illyrians were surprised to see the high lords son but still offered smiles at the toddler, they however turned their gaze away from Azriels stare in fear. Well that was until, Nyx called out and demanded attention, “unciii asshh, kiss”.

The blades the illyrians used faltered at that and gwyn straight up laughed at Azriels red cheeks. He nonetheless couldn’t refuse the adorable violet eyes looking up at him and gave Nyx a peck on the cheek.

The request was repeated another two times, until Nyx started getting fussy. It had been over an hour and Azriel had settled Nyx down on the mat and gave him some snacks. Healthy Rhysand approved snacks. But no. The toddler wanted candy.

“Buddy I have no candy, and your dad said no”

“Unci Ashh pleeease?”

Azriel sighed and looked up at the heavens. He could never refuse this child anything. Lord help him. Where the heck would he find candy in illyria? Gwyn ruffled in her pockets and got out five different candies.

Azriel lifted an eyebrow, “really?”

Gwyn just shrugged, “what.. I get hungry after training.”

“Well aren’t you the answer to all my prayers”

Gwyn blushed at that.

Another hour passed and Nyx was fussy again, Az sat down at the bench and tried to rock Nyx to sleep but the toddler was not having it. He turned around to make sure all the trainees were far away taking their break and looked down at Nyx. He then begun singing light notes of a song Nyx always loved. As he sang, his shadows gently caressed Nyx and soon his nephew was asleep in his arms.

Azriel carefully without jolting Nyx stood up and turned towards the ring. A ring packed with trainees who were gawking at him as if he was an alien. Well they obviously heard their stern spymaster sing a lullaby. Gwyn had returned from Emeries shop with Emerie as well and looked at him funny.

“What?”

She shook her head, “nothing. You have a beautiful voice Azriel.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and felt his cheeks burn.

“I’m taking him to the cottage, are you coming with?”

“Emerie is meeting Mor here in a bit. She’ll winnow us back.” Azriel nodded at the pair and turned to take Nyx inside the cottage. As soon as he got in, Rhys and Feyre had winnowed in.

“Is he okay? Didn’t trouble you too much?”, asked Feyre as she carefully took a sleeping Nyx into her arms.

“He’s fine and he was great.”

Feyre nodded and moved towards the kitchen to warm up some milk. Rhys gave a gentle kiss on Nyx’s head before she left the room.

“Why is there a chocolate stain on my sons mouth?”, said Rhys throwing an accusing look his way.

“Rhys, I can’t say no to him okay?! Its fucking impossible! He looks up at you with his puppy dog eyes and says please and I CANT SAY NO.”

Rhys just laughed.

“No I’m serious! And he is taking my rep to shit okay, I have a reputation to uphold. Everyone was scared of me, NOW THEY LOOK AT ME LIKE IM A CUTE LITTLE BEAR WHO SINGS LULLABIES!”

At this point Rhys was doubled over, holding his hand against his stomach. “Stop! lord this is too good. My high, mighty and terrifying spymaster brought down to a little bunny you said? By a toddler.”

Azriel sniffed, crossed his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes, “I said bear not bunny.”

Azriel could hear Feyre’s laughter from the kitchen as well, “not funny!”

“Oh my gods, its hilarious! I cant even right now”, she called out from the kitchen.

[ayanna-wild]

Love Like A Story

Word Count: 2033

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining because that is definitely a warning lol, fluff

A/N: Request from wattpad

Summary: Love was a fairy tale, it didn't exist beyond movies and words on the pages of a book. With your fair share of heartache and break, you'd decided you were better off alone, but Lucifer's determined to show you love wasn't a trope for the story books.

Such a persistent devil.

..................................................................................

You stacked the books from your cart onto shelves lined with even more books. Some new, some old, all with a story or more to tell. This little shop was your own slice of heaven, your refuge from the world outside. You had no need to venture out when any adventure you could ever want was right here, between the pages of all these books. The bell above your shop door chimed faintly, and you called out to whomever it was.

"We're not open yet!"

The sound of footsteps grew nearer and a familiar man poked his head around the shelf you were stacking.

"I'm just here to pick up my order, assuming you have it?"

You smiled faintly, dusting your hands off from the older books that had collected more dust than the ones towards the front of the store.

"Mr. Morningstar, nice to see you again."

Lucifer was a regular in your little shop, always seeking to expand his library and occasionally asking you to find books you weren't sure even existed anymore. You always came through though, and you supposed that was why he kept coming back.

"How many times must I insist you call me Lucifer?"

His voice followed after you as you walked back towards the counter.

"You're my customer, not my friend." You replied, albeit a bit stiffly.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow leaning against the counter as you walked behind it, shuffling through a box.

"Shall I pretend not to be offended?"

You mostly ignored his comment, setting a very large and very old book in front of him. The pages were well-worn and bound in a material you suspected wasn't leather. Lucifer smiled and ran his fingers over the spine before open the book.

Words you couldn't understand were written on the pages, and he seemed even happier upon that discovery.

"You even got it in the original Sanskrit."

You shrugged a bit, although you did feel rather proud of yourself.

"It's what you asked for."

Lucifer pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit and held it out to you. Another reason he was your favorite customer is because he paid handsomely for finding books like this. Honestly he was keeping your shop afloat. You grabbed the envelope but frowned when he didn't let go.

"Mr. Morningstar, you don't get the book until I get my money."

He tsked, still not letting go.

"It's Lucifer my dear, go on try it." He smirked.

You sighed, tapping your fingers on the counter. It was safe to say you were his match when it came to stubbornness. His hand brushed yours when he leaned forward a bit, and you tried to ignore the feeling his skin brushing against yours gave you. You stared him down before he let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well if you won't say my name at least humor my curiosity for a moment."

You nodded, and he relinquished his hold on the envelope, which you tucked into the cash register.

"Do you ever leave this shop? You always seem to be here, don't you ever go out?"

"Why would I? I have everything I need here."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy him, and he frowned.

"Don't you have friends who miss you? Family? A lover to be with perhaps?"

He noticed the tense of your shoulders, your lips pressed in a thin line, and you pressed the book into his hands, causing him to fumble with it.

"I don't need those things. Have a good day, Mr. Morningstar."

He stared at you surprised by your sudden hostility, and he stood there a moment, holding his book.

"But my dear, surely you don't enjoy being so alone..."

"Goodbye Mr. Morningstar."

You turned away from him, busying yourself with marking the transaction down in your receipt book. Lucifer stood there a moment longer before leaving without another word. You waited until you heard the bell chime before releasing your breath, leaning back against the wall.

You didn't need anyone. It was never worth the heartache that followed after they left, you decided long ago being alone is what you wanted, and he wasn't about to change that.

Not if you could help it.

~

Although Lucifer continued to come as he regularly did, he noticed you grew even more distant than before. Which was saying something because the two of you were never very close to begin with. Not for a lack of trying on his part though, you stopped any advances of friendship he made. Now however, you didn't speak to him at all.

Not beyond a polite greeting, or the total of his purchases. He'd even accept you calling him Mr. Morningstar, as long as it meant you'd at least look at him.

"Are you alright darling? You seem very off lately."

You didn't answer him as you rung up the stacks of books he had sat down. Lucifer frowned when you wordlessly began loading them into a bag.

"Y/N..."

The provoked a small glance from you, he seldom used your name, preferring to call you darling, or dear, occasionally love if he was in an especially chipper mood.

"Good day Mr. Morningstar."

Lucifer frowned when you handed him the bag, his hand brushed yours as he grabbed the bag, and you jerked your hand back as if he had burnt you. He didn't leave though, continued to stare at you until you finally met his eye.

He studied you closely before leaning towards you a bit, with a wall behind you there was nowhere to run. You couldn't seem to force yourself to look away, eyes locked with his.

"Tell me darling... what do you desire most in this world?"

You didn't want to answer, really you didn't, but you found your lips moving before you could stop them.

"I want to be alone, completely and utterly alone."

Lucifer stood up straight, shock and concern written all over his face. You blinked rapidly for a few seconds, breaking whatever spell had fallen over you.

"Why would you desire such a dreary existence?"

You scowled, angry at yourself for saying that out loud, angry at him for asking.

"Everyone always leaves in the end, love is just a fairy tale, a story better left to empty words on a page."

Lucifer's heart ached to hear you say such a sad thing, it left him wondering who'd hurt you so. You didn't give him much of a chance to ask before opening your shop door.

"I have work to do, Mr. Morningstar, please leave."

Your cool tone left no room for argument making it clear you were telling him, not asking. Lucifer conceded, leaving you alone with your darkening thoughts.

~

You closed the shop early that night, locking the door behind you as the sun began to set. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Lucifer standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He put it out once he saw you though.

"Hello love, I was wondering when you'd come out!"

You stared at him confused and a frown tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Have you been waiting for me out here this whole time?"

"Well yes, I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome back into your shop today, after what happened."

He said it so casually as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Why?"

"So I could walk you home of course!"

"I can walk myself, Mr. Morningstar."

You shouldered past him, but that phased him very little as he fell into step beside you.

"It's after hours, none of that Mr. Morningstar nonsense, surely it'd be appropriate to call me Lucifer now?"

You slowed to a stop, sighing as you turned to him.

"If I do, will you leave me alone."

"For tonight, yes."

"Then thank you, Lucifer, but I'd really like to walk myself home."

His excitement over you finally saying name canceled out your dismissal of him, and he smiled widely.

"Well then a deal's a deal, I'll see you tomorrow my dear!"

And just like that he was strolling away, you stared after him a moment before shaking your head and going on your way. That didn't stop the ghost of a smile that graced your lips though.

~

True to his word he did come the next day, and the day after that, and every day since. By the end of the month you'd gotten so used to having him around you began to look forward to the lunch breaks you'd take with him, the evenings he'd walk you home, and you'd pretend not to notice he guided you the long way just to talk longer.

It'd become so normal for you that when he abruptly stopped coming one day you grew worried. He'd never been late before, and you'd received no text nor call. Given your past, your thoughts began to darken, perhaps he'd decided to leave you like everyone had.

Really could you blame him?

It had to be you if everyone kept disappearing from your life. You were so lost in your harsh thoughts you didn't even realize you were crying until your eyes began to burn. You wiped the tears away harshly, scolding yourself for being so weak.

"You were fine on your own before, and you'll be fine now." You firmly told yourself, but you had trouble believing your own words.

When had you allowed yourself to start relying on Lucifer?

The bell above the door chimed, and you turned around surprised. Lucifer stood in the doorway, shrugging off his drenched coat to hang it on the hook in the wall. He fixed his hair with one hand holding a bag in the other. He was soaked from head to toe, probably from the downpour outside.

"I'm terribly sorry I'm so late darling, I wasn't expecting the rain and got- Oh."

You had abruptly hugged him, catching him off guard, but he placed a gentle hand to your back nonetheless.

"You'll get wet if you cling to me like that." He said softly.

"I'm sorry..." You spoke, stepping away from him.

"Oh no my dear, it's perfectly alright! I just didn't want you to catch a cold." Lucifer said quickly upon seeing your tears.

You laughed a little, wiping your eyes.

"That's not why I'm crying."

"Then what is it?" He asked carefully.

Seeing Lucifer standing there, drenched from the rain, looking at you so concerned made you suddenly feel very foolish. How could ever assume he'd just abandon you.

"It's silly now that I think about it... but you were late, and I thought... maybe you weren't coming back."

Your voice grew quieter towards the end and Lucifer let out a small sigh.

Not one of annoyance or irritation, but relief, and he walked over to you.

"Does this mean you don't want to be alone anymore?"

You thought for a moment, your insecurities were still there, the small fears, but you were more scared of not having Lucifer by your side anymore.

"I guess I wouldn't mind... if you wanted to stick around."

He smiled proudly and forgetting his earlier concern of you catching a cold, hugged you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The bag in his hand crinkled, and you pulled back to look at it curiously.

"Oh that's right! I got you a little gift!"

He held the bag out to you, and you opened it eagerly, your heart skipping a beat when you pulled out the book.

"Lucifer, this is... how did you find this?"

The book you held in your hand was one you'd been desperately searching for, but it was so rare you suspected you'd never find it, let alone afford it.

"I called in a few favors, a little gift to commemorate our time together. It's nothing really, you're always finding rare books for me."

You laughed a little running your fingers along the cover.

"But Lucifer this is..."

You laughed once more, throwing your arms around his neck as you hugged him tightly.

"It's amazing, thank you."

He smiled, hugging you back as he leaned into your touch.

"You're worth it my love."

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 1

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, mentions of alcohol

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: hi friends! this will be a multipart (probably 3-4 parts) George fic inspired by Bridgerton. i’m so excited for it and i hope you all are too :) thank you for reading!

The start of the social season had been, as you had expected, the topic of conversation around the ton for the past few weeks. It was impossible to go anywhere without hearing whispers of who would snag an engagement in the next few months.

Particularly, people had been interested in who the Queen would declare the “diamond of the season”. Your mother was positively convinced it would be you, but you had other plans in mind for your life other than parties and dresses and loveless marriage. However, when the Queen took one look upon your face, she quickly declared you incomparable, as she had done the same for Daphne Bridgerton, now the Duchess, a few years prior, and your fate was sealed.

As a member of the distinguished and esteemed Y/L/N family, and as the eldest daughter, you had a trivial, yet necessary and important role to play, even if you longed to free yourself from it. Your mother and father, as wonderful as they might be, had high expectations for you, and you would not and could not let them down.

Your mother fluffed your hair and primped your dress in preparation of the Danbury Ball, admiring you fondly and gushing about how beautiful you looked.

“Maybe your luck will be as wonderful as the Duchess, her love match was indeed unprecedented but oh so joyous. Do you think your fortune might align with hers, dear?”

“Mama,” you sighed. “I have no interest in a life like the Duchess’s. All the parties, teas, and properness. Besides, there isn’t another Duke for me to marry.”

“I did not mean that you would have to marry a Duke to share her fate; only that you may marry for love.”

You huffed as you turned away from the mirror. In truth, you had no interest in marrying for love, or marrying at all for that matter, but the duty of an eldest daughter was set in stone.

All too soon, you arrived at the Lady Danbury’s spectacular first ball of the season; the sea of gowns and tailored coats causing a queasy feeling to settle in your stomach, and you wished with all your might that anything at all would ruin the festivities.

A glass of champagne was placed in your grasp and you let your eyes wander around the room; Lady Eloise Bridgerton, a close friend of yours, donned a similar look on her face though her mother enthusiastically tried to get her to waltz across the dance floor.

Glancing to your left, you noticed Lord Farley, a rather grotesque older man, eyeing you up and down; his beady eyes causing the queasy feeling to return and for your feet to take off in what could almost be considered a sprint.

When he was no longer in your line of sight, you began to slow down your gait, but a shoulder roughly bumped into yours and an unattractive yelp escaped your lips.

The unmistakable chuckle that followed your outburst made you groan due to your detestation of the man you knew you had bumped into.

Lord George Weasley; a man, nay, a boy, with hair of fire and a wit to match. You had known him for years as you were the same age and his sister Ginevra was the best of friends with your younger sister.

“I want to believe, Miss Y/L/N, that you would not take such drastic measures to capture my attention, but I must say I am flattered nonetheless,” George teased, his hand reaching out to steady you as you recovered from the collision.

“Mr. Weasley, I believe you to know me better than that,” you spoke with gritted teeth as you swatted his hand away. “Besides, there are plenty of young women here that would kiss the ground you walk on. Might you bother them instead?”

“Ah, but where is the fun in that? I’ve noticed that you still have room on your dance card?”

“I always have room left on my dance card.”

You tried to step around George and escape his company, but his impossible height made it so easy for him to evade your attempts.

“Is that by choice or because you’re just so pleasant to spend time with?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Suppose a bit of both. Now, if you would be so kind, I’m quite parched and would love another glass of champagne.”

“Perfect, I shall accompany you.”

George Weasley, you surmised very early on, was nothing but a flirt. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him a rake, because as far as you knew he was an honorable man, but he was also most intolerable with his boyish charm, sense of humor, beautiful eyes…

Yes, you were quite sure that he was entirely intolerable.

“Have you told your mother you have no interest in procuring a husband, yet?” he mused, breaking you out of your trance as he carefully handed you a glass of champagne.

“Don’t call it procuring as if it’s a transaction. And no, I haven’t. Do you think I’d be standing here alive if I had?”

“Good point,” George hummed as his eyes surveyed the room, no doubt searching for the next woman so unlucky enough to be graced with his presence.

“How is your family?” you asked as you sipped on your flute of bubbling liquid.

“They’re doing well, thank you for asking. Work has been a bit hard on Dad but – ”

Before George could finish, a man approached you and bowed; taking the hand not holding the champagne flute and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you like to join me for a dance?”

You noticed George looking on angrily at the sight before him, probably because his ego couldn’t take the interruption.

“I’m flattered, Lord Rainier? I believe?” When you received no objections, you continued. “As I was saying, I’m flattered by your offer but I simply must decline. I am feeling a bit ill and all that spinning might make me sick.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps another time?”

You gave him a small, soft smile and let out a sigh of relief when he walked away. Turning back to George, you urged him to continue. While you held him in contempt, or so you told yourself, you did enjoy his family as they were all simply lovely.

“You were saying, George?”

“Right, work has been a bit hard on Dad, after his accident a few months ago. He’s been doing better but Charlie had to take a break from his travels to come home and help out since he’s the eldest. Fred and Angelina are expecting again, if you haven’t heard. They’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“Maybe if you were more like your brother you’d be married and having children by now,” you teased.

He gasped and clutched his hand over his heart, drawing the attention of anyone near.

“You wound me, Y/N.”

Much to your dismay, you laughed at his actions, devastated that you gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was entertaining you. However, the moment was short lived as another man interrupted your conversation.

“Miss Y/N, I must say you are looking exquisite this evening. It would be a shame for your dress not to take a twirl on the dance floor. Might I accompany you?”

You tried not to groan when you noticed a line forming behind the man currently asking for a dance.

“Actually, Lord Beverly, I’m feeling a bit warm. I was just about to go outside for some fresh air.”

“I shall accompany you, then.”

“Without a chaperone? Goodness, no, please find another young lady to dance with. There are certainly many that would be delighted at the chance.”

You looked around Lord Beverly to see at least four other men waiting for their chance to ask you for a dance, and the thought of making up more excuses made your head spin. You graciously bid Lord Beverly a good evening, and turned on your heel towards the nearest exit.

In your haste, you did not notice George following you into the gardens.

“Well, you sure like to let them down easy,” he joked.

“George!” you cried. “We can’t be seen alone, are you daft? Trying to ruin me and my family?”

“Calm yourself, my Mother is just right there.”

You looked a bit to George’s left and saw his wonderful mother keeping a careful eye on the two of you, graciously leaving the attention of her husband to ensure that none would suspect foolery between you and George.

“As I was saying, it’s awfully obvious that you do not want any man to court you. Your mother will realize well and soon enough of your…aversion to marriage.”

“The only reason you know that is because you eavesdropped on a conversation I had with Eloise. But yes, I have no desire to marry, and I’m quite certain I never will. I’ll have to fight off suitors and think of a million excuses until I’m considered a spinster and men no longer want me.”

Silence enveloped you both as a tear slid down your cheek. You hastily wiped it away, hoping that George hadn’t seen, but of course, you were not so lucky.

“Is the idea of marriage really that upsetting to you, Y/N?”

“All those men, all they want is a woman to wear on their arm and to give them children. That’s what a woman’s life is in marriage. A husband doesn’t care about his wife’s passions, desires, intellect, among other things, and I can’t bring myself to entertain the idea of a life that has no room for my happiness.”

George was quiet; pondering your response and your feelings, when he was suddenly struck with the most brilliant of ideas.

You see, Mr. George Weasley was in love with Miss Y/N Y/L/N, has been for several years in fact. He couldn’t tell you exactly when or why, but he knew that the fluttering in his chest and the way his whole world became brighter when she entered a room meant that Y/N was more than just someone to engage in friendly banter with.

“I’ve thought of an idea,” George muttered, piquing your interest.

“Whatever might it be, Mr. Weasley?”

“Your…situation, can only go away if men were to believe you were taken, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose, only I can’t fool them into thinking that. It would become quite suspicious when I’m seen alone everywhere. And, there’s no way I could ever fool my parents.”

“Except you wouldn’t be alone, you’d have me!”

“I don’t believe I’m following your idea, George.”

“Marry me.”

You choked and sputtered on your own spit, unable to take a breath through your coughs and gasps. George’s hands flew to your shoulders to steady you, helping you to breathe easier and calm yourself down.

“George, you must be joking,” you said quietly.

“I am as deadly serious as I could ever be. Not a real marriage, of course. Real in every sense of the word in terms of legality, but not real as in, well, us together. I’ll spend this social season courting you, and at the end of the season I’ll propose. We’ll get married in a few months’ time, and then we can travel the world, doing whatever our hearts desire.”

“Why on earth would you want to marry me?”

“It’s quite simple. You need to get the eligible bachelors of the ton to leave you alone and you never want to marry because your husband would restrict your freedoms. I, as your husband, wouldn’t dare. You’re not entirely awful, I suppose there are far worse people to spend my life with, even if you utterly despise me, and marriage, real marriage, isn’t something I want either.”

You looked at him quizzically, searching for signs that he’d had far too much champagne or had gone completely mad in the head, but he looked right as rain, and your mind was spinning.

“I find it hard to believe you do not want to marry, after all the times you’ve said you cannot wait to marry the woman you love.”

“Honestly, the woman I love is….unattainable, I’ll put it that way. I won’t ever love anyone but her. I’m also waiting for an answer, it’s not every day you have to have a discussion after a proposal.”

“You’re sure this will work, Mr. Weasley?”

“How hard can it be to pretend to be in love with a woman as beautiful as you?”

“I always knew you were a flirt, but God, do you lay it on thick.”

George looked at you expectantly, almost a glimmer of hope is his eye, but as quickly as you thought you’d noticed it, he looked away.

“My answer is yes, George. Let’s fool the ton, our families, court, get married, and then travel the world platonically.”

“That sounds like the perfect arrangement, darling.”

@theweasleyslut @vivacesole @weasleyclaw @nuttytani-reblogs @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @woakiees @wildfire-whizbangs @gcdric

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[psycheshorror]

“Shut Up”

pairing: MCU!Brock Rumlow x reader

summary: smutty smut smut with tons of cursing. rough sex.

authors note: I’m new to the whole writing scene, critiques appreciated!

part two

God, Brock was so pretty when he finally shut the fuck up.

It started off small. Working as an assistant for Maria Hill meant you had to schedule debriefing meetings, hunt down agents for completed mission reports, and occasionally make small talk with the big guys - Captain Rogers and you were on first name basis and sometimes he even brought you coffee when turning in his reports. Neatly written, filled out properly, never a second late and somehow the coffee always tasted like it was just brewed.

But Brock Rumlow was something else.

Always wearing a shit-eating grin when he saw you, brown eyes full of amusement as he watched you disdainfully pluck the report out of his large hands. Messy as fuck handwriting as per usual, and no matter how many times you told him to remember to be thorough, there was always a detail missing that didn’t line up with the rest of his teammates. And no matter how small it was, it meant the process had to start all over again.

You tried to remain professional, but you were at your wits end. You wanted to be like Maria. Maria never gets her feathers ruffled, and sure as hell doesn’t over paperwork, but goddamn if it didn’t require a miracle for Brock’s report to be correct the first time around.

“Hey honey,” he said, mouth curling up into a catlike grin.

“Rumlow,” you acknowledged, trying desperately to keep your eyes fixated on your computer screen, almost effectively ignoring the flutter in your chest at the pet name. You reached for your coffee mug and frowned when the now-cold liquid hit your lips.

Licking your bottom lip when a stray drop threatened to dribble down your chin, you swore you heard the 6”4 man purr.

A shuffle in your peripheral vision and your desk creaking, you couldn’t help but to now look into the eyes of the absolute brick house of a man.

Both large hands placed flat against the edges of your desk, leaning down, he was only a few inches away from your face now. You could feel his breath on your lips and much to your embarrassment, felt a familiar stirring in your core.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Wh- what-“

All of a sudden he was chuckling, head bowing down to look at the floor and you could almost see a shyness you’ve never seen the agent express - ever. But then when he looked back at you, pupils blown wide and a different kind of smirk, you knew at that moment you were a goner.

Brock Rumlow was a wolf and you were a sitting duck, waiting to be eaten.

And eaten you were.

Brock currently had his face in between your legs, tongue mercilessly working your clit as his large fingers pumped into you. Threading your fingers in his hair, you cried out as the coil in your core wrapped so tight that you thought you were gonna die. Just a few more seconds and -

Brock’s head popped up and his fingers slid out to slap your pussy and you almost sobbed. “Brock!!” you whined, embarrassed at the desperation in your voice.

“Did I fucking say you could cum?” he gritted out, hands on your hips and fingers digging so hard in the flesh you knew there would be bruises the next day.

“You motherfucker-“ you yelped when you were suddenly face down into the mattress. Brock’s strength was insane on the field - you knew from

his bio that he built a reputation as being a huge asset to S.H.I.E.L.D., but you never expected it to creep into bed with him as well.

Well, you never expected to be in bed with him in general, but life is full of happy surprises, isn’t it?

You could feel Brock rutting against your ass, cock hard in his tactical pants. One hand firmly placed on the small of your back to hold you down, the other finding it’s way in your hair, tugging firmly. Nothing could have prepared you for how goddamn hot that was.

“Name calling ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he said, breath quickening as his hips rolled into your ass at a brutish pace.

“You’re gonna have to pay the price,” he whispered in your ear before licking the shell of it. You shivered, arousal completely dominating your mind and body. Fuck, you shouldn’t be wet for Brock Rumlow. You felt a tinge of guilt for Steve. You should be in bed with the guy that brought you coffee, not the one who couldn’t file a report properly because he simply didn’t care to.

A harsh slap on your bare ass brought you back to the situation at hand. You moaned as the hand in your hair switched to pinching your right nipple. Twisting hard, your eyes fluttered shut at the new feeling. You’ve never had it rough like this, but damn you were missing out.

You could feel your core starting to coil once more, on the precipice of orgasm just from Brock manhandling you and his covered cock rubbing against your cheeks.

“You like it rough, you little slut?” Another harsh slap from his right hand almost sent you over the edge. You moaned as his cock twitched in his pants, and knew how desperate he was for his own orgasm.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he grunted, hands leaving your body to undo his belt and zipper. Your pussy quaked with the promise of being thoroughly fucked.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Now shut the fuck up and fuck me, Rumlow.”

You could feel the smile against your neck before he bit you, the full length of his cock slipping in until he completely buried himself in your core. You both almost keeled from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, dark eyelashes fluttering closed as he experimentally thrusted into you, almost savoring the sensation.

“Gotta let me fuck you all the time, I don’t know if I can get enough.” Finally slamming into you, you knew what true pleasure felt like.

“Rumlow,” you cried, tears prickling out the corners of your eyes as you angled yourself against him to feel his cock hit that perfect, magic spot in your pussy that made you see stars. He was merciless with his pace, his large hands digging into your hips once more, forcing you to take his full length and force at once.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours should have made you feel embarrassed. You weren’t supposed to be playing hanky panky with any of your coworkers, nonetheless an agent, but how were you supposed to resist his advances with his pretty brown eyes and that sultry smile?

And now with his cock buried so deeply inside of you, how could you ever stop?

He angled his hips upwards and you felt the underside of his shaft brush against your clit thrice and you were sent into one of the most powerful orgasms you have ever had.

Brock moaned feeling your walls close in on his cock and tugged your hair as you rode the waves of your orgasm. You cried when he slapped your ass, hard, and kept thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Your hands were shaking and you could barely keep your legs open, your orgasm turning you into a throbbing, helpless mess.

He came after a minute of reckless thrusting, the kind that said “I’m drunk off of sex” without anyone explicitly having to say it out loud. Spilling hot cum inside of you, you could feel him moan and a wave of pride washed over you. You could get used to hearing this more often.

Brock sighed and he gently kissed the dark marks he left on your neck, caressing your back and hushing your whimpers when he pulled out of your aching pussy.

Lips barely ghosting the angry red marks his hands left on your ass, he gingerly massaged your hips where he could see the bruises already forming.

After soft touches and tender kisses, he flipped you over, this time slowly as if you were the most valuable thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

You could feel your heart swelling with affection when you saw his eyes were now full of pure satisfaction. Hush now, feelings.

It was just good, rough sex. No need to make it anything other than that.

“Gotta say, honey,” he said, voice still coated with lust as he tucked his body against yours, pulling the sheets over both of you.

“I’m glad I can finally stop fucking up mission reports.”

“You bastard!” you exclaimed, laughing wildly as he curled a forearm around your waist. “I can’t count how many times I’ve had to make you redo your reports.”

“Well, I tried to get your attention, but you were all business,” he chuckled, nose nuzzling in your hair.

“So I figured, I’m just gonna ask. And I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” you yawned, feeling the fatigue of the wild sex start to creep into your bones. Eyes almost fluttering closed, you basked in the warmth of the big, muscly body behind you.

“Well, since you mentioned it... can I get an extension on this next report?”

“Not a chance.” You grinned, just before dozing off.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hi! Could I request some headcanons of idw Prowl who is dealing with developing feelings for his new assistant? (Either human or cybertronian), thanks!

I shall make them human for maximum Prowl drama and also because the image of a Cybertronian sized desk with a human working at it is... hilarious.

·Perhaps the most stubborn bot in all of existence, he's nonetheless too intelligent to deny the effort to connect Earth and Cybertron through trade is a beneficial one, and that means each species is equally welcome on the other's planet. At least, in theory. No one can make him be welcoming. But he does need help around the office, and his reputation has reached such unpleasant levels amongst his own kind that he's forced to seek out a human. In his office on earth, he receives one application that stands out, and the interview with the human in question goes well enough that he hires them to be done with it.

·The first red flag for him is how... not annoyed he is by the human he hires. Sure, they're ridiculously small and have all the other human traits that don't make sense, but they're... otherwise okay? Not only does the work get done without complaints, but they're always in on time and nice and polite. That's not something he's accustomed to. Eventually he has to will himself to reply when they wish him a good morning, mostly because he doesn't want to be rude.

·Things get concerning the first time he smiles upon seeing them in the morning, the little glow in his spark proving too powerful to crush down. Immediately, he locks himself in his office. He's been in relationships before, but to feel something like this for a human?! What could possibly be going on?! Perhaps he's just... been too open with them? Yes, he'll just have to put up some walls! This can't be allowed to continue!

·Of course, he fails the very next time he sees the human. When they wish him a good morning and he replies with just a grunt of acknowledgment, their crestfallen expression proves too much for him to handle. He has to go back and apologize. In the course of doing so he manages to wish them a good morning and tell them he's happy to see them. Their smile has him floating so high on air he forgets to be angry for hours on end. It's only then that he realizes how hard he's truly fallen, but he doesn't yet have the courage to admit it to anyone...

·But of course, the human is far from oblivious, and the giant robot they're working for doesn't have the ability to be subtle, so they eventually put the pieces together. Thus, Prowl is inevitably confronted when they respectfully ask for a meeting and make it clear they know how he feels. Before he can flip the table they're on and make a run for it, the human confesses that they feel the same. In disbelief, he asks them to say it again. Their gentle smile brings out one of his own. At his worry regarding his bad history with love, they assure him they're in the same boat, and that they like him enough to try. Going out on a limb, he promises to do the same.

[seonghwa-is-babie]

What we've been missing (pt. 4)

Tw: violence (kicking, slapping, hitting someone with a bat) abuse (emotional and physical) hospitals, cursing, shouting, crying, mentions of injuries from violence, flinching. Pls be careful reading if any of these are triggering for you and pls let me know if I missed anything

Ateez x male hybrid reader

So, sorry this took so long, I had a massive writers block, but I hope this long part can make up for it

Taglist: @jonghoshoe @little-precious-baby @twancingyunhoe @sansbun @yunhofingers

Yeosang finally got back home after a tough walk there, feet hurting from carrying his wounded body. He didn't come back to a sight he liked though

Wooyoung trying to calm down a sobbing San, jongho typing on their computer, probably something related to y/n. Mingi holding seonghwa and Hongjoong trying to get through to yunho, who seemed to have gone into a state of shock.

Never had he seen the puppy eyed man so empty of life "g-guys?" their heads turned to Yeosang, yunho immediately getting up, anything but friendly intent in his eyes

Those eyes were proven right when the tallest harshly grabbed the other's shirt and started screaming at him "how could you let this happen?!?!?!" Yeosang could see the tears streaming down the older's face

"yunho stop! He did his best to protect y/n" Hongjoong reasoned "it's still his fault that y/n isn't here right now!" Hongjoong pushed himself between the two before a serious fight broke out "yunho! We can argue about this later, right now, we need to find y/n. Focus on what's important!"

Yunho regained some of his common sense back, eyes widening with shock "I-I'm sorry Yeosang, I just.... I don't know what to do"

"it's okay, we're all a little out of it anyway" Yeosang said as he was guided to the bathroom to get his wounds cleaned up by Hongjoong

"Yeosang, before you go, do you remember the car's license plate that they used?" questioned jongho, the older nodded "can you write it down? I'm gonna call a hybrid rescue centre, but they'll need something to track y/n with" Yeosang thought back to the scene, remembering the licence plate to the best of his abilities, and wrote that down

"thanks Yeosang this'll definitely help them get y/n back sooner"

⏳

Meanwhile with y/n, things weren't looking that good for him, he just arrived at his former owners' house, to him it was more like a big scary mansion.

"come on little guy, let's get moving" but y/n didn't even shift, frozen by the fear and trauma the mansion held inside.

The man sighed "alright boys, lift him up, I don't have time for this" the men moved towards the hybrid, to which y/n shrunk back further into the car, he would have shifted if it wasn't for the collar they put on him.

Though he resisted heavily and scratched them deeply, he couldn't stop the men from grabbing him and restraining his movements. "let me go!" he thrashed around

"now since when did you become so bold, tabby?" he froze at the nickname, slowly turning to look at the person he feared ever encountering again. "you thought you could just run away from us without any consequences? Oh wait, you probably don't even know what that means" the woman spat "Well then, looks like I'm gonna have to teach you physically then"

⏳

"you little shit!" a kick came from the man before him "you think you can just leave like that?!" another kick "after everything you still haven't learned to obey?!" a slap was next "I-I'm sorry master-" the hybrid was loudly interrupted by the wife of the violent man "you do not speak unless told to! You worthless tabby!" it resulted in another kick, this time from the woman, who's heels were much sharper than her husband's, resulting him starting to bleed

The slapping and kicking, along with the verbal abuse, continued until y/n was knocked unconscious, either by blood loss or exhaustion, they didn't know

"pathetic" the man took the unconscious hybrid and took him to a separate room "now no one shall see what we'll do to you" he took out a bat as y/n was beginning to become conscious again, and immediately fear took over the boy. The man swung and hit him right on his ribs, he wouldn't be surprised if he had many broken bones by now. The hybrid coughed up blood "w-why are you d-doing this" he was grabbed by the man "because how else am I supposed to use my new tools?" he threw him back onto the ground harshly "and what did I say about talking?!"

⏳

The beating continued for hours, until their doorbell interrupted "ugh, what now?" the man let go off y/n and cleaned up his hands, which were covered in blood "don't you dare make a single noise to alert anyone, I can do a lot worse than this" it was the last thing y/n saw before he fell unconscious again

"hello, What can we do for you?" the woman opened the front door, trying to sound as sweet and innocent as she could "ma'am we've had an informant tell us you kidnapped a hybrid and are now keeping it in bad condition" an officer said, a whole crew stood behind him, ready to force their way into the house

"now why would we ever do that? We're just content by how we're living now, without any hybrid" the man said "than, you wouldn't mind if we looked around your house" that made the couple freeze in their steps "w-well, you don't have a search warrant so-" he was interrupted by the officer taking out a paper "we do have one, actually"

The couple started to panic, well aware of the state the hybrid was in if someone found him "I-I will not allow you to enter my house! Who are you people anyway?!" the officer signalled the crew behind him to start moving into the house "hybrid rescue centre"

As the crew walked in, the couple was promptly arrested. Seeing as they weren't expecting anyone over, they didn't clean up the blood from y/n. The captain and fellow officers searched around the house for the hybrid

"captain! I found the hybrid, but he's in pretty bad shape, we'll need a stretcher to carry him" the captain heard from his walky talky "good job, get him to the ambulance" the officer did so, receiving help to carry y/n onto the stretcher and get him out to the ambulance "contact the owners, tell them we got him back"

⏳

Meanwhile, the members were sitting around anxiously, waiting for the phone call that would determine y/n's savety "what if they don't get him out of there?" the others looked at mingi, their hearts breaking at the sight of the taller, tears threatening to fall out of his eyes. Jongho went to hug him "they'll get him out of there" he said determined.

At that moment, the phone started ringing. Hongjoong went to pick it up "Kim Hongjoong speaking, how can I help you?"

"yes, hello, this is the hybrid rescue centre, we're calling to inform you your hybrid has been retrieved" Hongjoong's eyes lit up at that, the others followed suit "unfortunately, he suffered several injuries, with multiple fatal ones, so he'll have to stay here for a few days until his wounds have healed"

he wanted to tear up at the mention of his kitten getting hurt, by the people who were supposed to take care of him nonetheless "I-I understand, we'll come see him as soon as possible" he hung up "well, what happened?" wooyoung asked "they got y/n back, but..... He has a lot of injuries, with a couple of fatal ones, so he'll have to stay at the centre for a few days" their faces morphed from excitement to sorrow at the mention of his injuries "well, what are we waiting for? Let's go see y/n"

⏳

As they arrived at the centre, they saw one of the officers waiting outside for them "you must be y/n's owners, come with me" they followed him into the various halls "how is he?" yunho asked anxiously

"he's in a stable condition, but he hasn't woken up yet. We managed to get the custody papers from his former owners however, we'll hand them over to you soon"

As they finally reached y/n's room, they started to feel fear, just how bad did they hurt him? They opened the door and like the officer said, he wasn't awake yet. The hybrid was covered in bandages and had several bruises, it was enough to make them tear up "y/n.......I'm so sorry, this is all my fault" Yeosang broke down on his knees in front of his bed "if I just protected you better, this wouldn't have happened" his sobbing broke the other members, who started crying as well "it's not your fault" a soft, quiet voice said, as Yeosang felt his hand being held. He looked up at the hybrid and saw him looking back at Yeosang "y/n...." he held his hand, afraid to hurt him if he did so anywhere else

"are you okay, kitten?" seonghwa asked concerned as he kissed the hybrid's forehead "......I'll be okay, don't worry about it" Hongjoong went over to seonghwa's side and held y/n's hand "but we do worry about you, and that's okay for us, because from now on we'll take extra good care of you" the hybrid gazed up at Hongjoong with eyes that could hold the galaxy "really?"

"yes kitten, really" he stepped aside to let the other boys through to y/n, and one by one, they all came up to him, talked, cried or simply were just there with him in that moment. The only one that who was left, was yunho, who'd been relatively quiet throughout the whole day

"yunho, are you okay?" the older lifted his head up, tears streaming down his eyes. This worried y/n "yunho, what's wrong?" said person started walking towards his bed and collapsed in front of y/n "I-I thought- I thought I lost you"

"I-it all happened so fast, I thought I'd never see you again" he sobbed and carefully embraced y/n, being careful not to hurt him "I'm okay now yunho, see, I'm here with you now" he tried him cheering up, and it worked a little bit as his sobbing died down into small sniffles and hiccups.

"I'll be okay, Yunho. It's just a few small injuries, right?" the others tensed at how y/n seemingly brushed off his injuries "....The doctor said you'll have to stay here until you're healed, would you like one of us to stay here with you tonight?" he nodded at seonghwa's question" is there any member in particular you want to stay with?" of course all of the members hoped to be chosen, but they'd keep it fair and go along with y/n's wishes "......can Hongjoong stay tonight?"

"off course, it'll be like a night at the studio" the hybrid smiled widely at Hongjoong's comment and nodded. The rest of their visit was filled with talking and cuddles. Before it was time to leave, seonghwa took Hongjoong out the room, to talk "I'm worried y/n isn't telling us the truth about his wellbeing"

"so you noticed too" seonghwa nodded "it's just.....the way he brushed off his injuries like they were just small bruises, something doesn't sit right with me" Hongjoong understood where he was coming from, the hybrid's behaviour was definitely not something they were expecting from someone who could've died if the rescue team took too long "I'm not asking you to find out what he's hiding from us, I just want you to take care of him when his walls do come down"

⏳

"are you sure you're comfortable, Hongjoong, I don't want you to wake up with an aching back" said person smiled reassuringly "I'll be fine y/n, besides, if my back does start to ache, I can always sleep on the other bed, for now I just wanna be close to you" Hongjoong said as he took y/n's hand and held it gently "even after everything, your hands are still so soft, kitten"

They went to sleep rather peacefully considering what happened that day, but it all came crashing down eventually. Around one in the morning, y/n woke up from a nightmare about what had happened and by shooting up as fast as he did, caused his ribs to hurt as they were still fractured by the beatings he went through.

He started to cry, it only adding more pain to his already hurting ribs. The crying eventually reached Hongjoong's ears as he woke up "kitten....what's wrong, why are you crying" he went to pet y/n's head, but the hybrid flinched away "d-don't hurt me!" the sentence broke Hongjoong's heart. Just how much did his former owners harm him?

"y/n, it's okay I'm here" the older said as he slowly sat down on y/n's bed, carefully grasping his hands and caressing them with his thumbs "hey....look at me, its gonna be okay, they're gone now" he calmed down after a couple of minutes, his panic dying down into sobs "I-it hurts" Hongjoong looked a bit confused, but also very concerned at the hybrid "what hurts, kitten?" y/n took one of his hands back and placed it on his ribs "here, I got up too quick and it hurt a lot...then I started crying and it started to hurt more"

Hongjoong fully got on y/n's bed, swinging his leg over the boy so they were on either side "did it hurt before that too or is it just starting to now" he looked away, guilt slowly settling down into the boy ".....before that too..." this is what he was hiding, he's been hurting all this time and he didn't want anyone to know "I just- you guys already looked so stressed out from having me taken away, I didn't wanna add on to that" Hongjoong carefully took the hybrid's head, one hand settled on his cheek, the other gently petting his cat ear

"kitten, we really don't mind that kind of stuff. You mean a lot to us and your health is really important to us. So please, when you are hurting, either physically or mentally, please tell us" y/n nodded as Hongjoong brought his head into the older's chest "it's gonna be okay kitten, soon enough you'll be all better and ready to come back home with us"

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 2 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title(s):

Saint Behind the Glass** (Song Referenced)

or

The Extra Corny One With A Second Song Title Reference, Part 2½**

• • •

**This basically reveals Part 2 and 3 were meant to be Chapter Twenty-Two at one point (similar to how various chapters from the old version of FaiCom have been merged together here), buuut each chapter has essentially took place on different days in this version, so...

Let's keep that format, shall we?

• • •

Something's wrong.

That single sentence continues to repeat itself over and over as he makes it from Ruins to Hotland with the human, who remains quiet and distant during the entirety of the walk.

They're obligated to take off their jacket and reveal a sweaty tank top midway through, leaving their arms bare, these they try to hide from his line of sight by crossing them and glancing aside. He wonders why they do that at first, until he witnesses how hefty and soft-looking their arms are, a noticeable difference compared to the toned muscles he often saw from those who worked at the Royal Guard. Whether the human felt unconfident of their appearance or vulnerable as a cause of the nightmare he assumed to be related to, Sans wasn't completely sure of. Either way, he's aware it's best not to bring that up currently. The ups and downs to their health and body had shown greatly through these past few months, and though they were recovering little by little, they seemed to be facing some more frequent downs, as of late. Their call from a few days ago and the weak state they were in as they climbed into the back seat of Papyrus's car were just enough to make him fear there's something bigger going on.

"Shoulda worn shorts or somethin'," he comments, noticing they already seem to be affected by the heat. Frisk ventured through a variety of climates with no trouble at all, yet their parent was showing signs of fatigue in their body within a few minutes into their walk through Hotland. The place had grown about twice as hot since he last visited, though he doubts the human will believe him if he were to say that out of nowhere. They could likely take it as him trying to console them for their inability to be stronger than him; or their own child, for that matter -- someone meant to see them as a role model rather than a frail and dependent person. "Wanna borrow some of mine?"

The human stares at him like he's made the most absurd suggestion there is, similar to that of mixing water with cereal or cooking steak in a toaster. "I swear, you test your luck with me a little too hard sometimes."

"I mean it, though."

"...We're not even dating yet."

"Yet," he says, mirth in his tone. "As in, there's still a possibility for us to become official?"

"Oh, stop it." They frown and fumble with the keys hanging from their satchel; he notices their nails are stubby, and bits of dried blood can be seen at the corners of plenty. "I… I don't know when you're being serious with me or not anymore."

"I meant that, too," he states, chuckling. "Would it be late if I told you I got that punch at the bar, 'cuz I had my head way in the clouds -- thinkin' about you?"

Sans receives no comment or reaction other than (Y/N) looking elsewhere and moving aside to walk a bit further from where he's at.

As a consequence, he takes a step closer, catches them with a 'hey', and reaches for their cheek when they look down at him. "...What's the matter? Your face's burnin'."

"We're in Hotland," they retort, rolling their eyes and brushing his hand away. "Ice's frozen. Water's wet. The sun's scorching-"

"-Just like you."

They walk off again, albeit with some struggle now that the heat of Hotland has combined with their embarrassment.

"And I'm not gonna wear your shorts. It would be a waste of time for me to take a break just because of some heat -- I'm not weak."

"Not sayin' you are. Just sayin' I don't want you to die from a heatstroke."

"Either way, I overlooked my situation, and I failed to prepare for it." A solemn look falls on their face, coupled with a firm posture. "I should've kept in mind my health, so it wouldn't be right for you to try redeeming my lack of preparedness. I should've asked Frisk or you more about this." They take in a breath and sigh it out. "...even if you can adapt to it just fine, and even if Frisk didn't have as much trouble to adjust as me."

Hot-headed and fiery might just be the finest ways to describe the human's current attitude, yet he very well knows making another joke about their temper -- combined with their hotness and the place they're currently at -- would be far too much. It wouldn't surprise him if they decided to call off the tour halfway through. Patience wasn't quite their main trait, though they practiced a sufficient amount of tolerance when it came to confronting his constant coquetry for the duration of those two months one of their coworkers mentioned in the chat; he can hardly believe it's been that long, and even less how close he was to kiss them that one time on the couch. More than sixty days of dealing with his presence had to be considered an achievement of some sort, even if their feelings were mutual. The monster's completely aware of how tiring and exasperating he can be on the often occasion, so he finds it best to start rationing how much he can be at once; too much of something's rarely ever good or effective, after all.

"But... Alright. Risking it would only make it worse, either way." Their gaze turns soft and they concede with a quiet huff. "Wouldn't we have to go allll the way back, though?"

"Not exactly," he replies, winking.

Sans proceeds to unzip his jacket and reveal a folded bundle of clothing underneath it.

"I know you can be stubborn sometimes, so I came prepared." He turns it over and adds, "There's a full set of clothes there, in case ya wanna freshen up at Met's old hotel before we keep goin'." His hands brush with theirs as they take the clothing from him. "It's been abandoned for a short while now, but I'm pretty sure the water's still runnin' well, for the most part." His gaze falls on their belongings again, and he gives into a cheekier grin as he continues with, "I've noticed somethin' about you, by the way."

"And what would that be?" they ask, mouth straight and tone wary.

He observes the satchel again -- the more-heavy-than-it-looks bag they almost always seemed to carry along with them, be it for something as typical as their job to something as simple as going out for a walk. What made it odd was knowing what contents could be found inside, these he has a vague recollection from when he had no other choice but to organize their bag after having gone through it when they fainted at the bus. Sans can still remember having rummaged through layers of Frisk's clothing, school supplies, and even a few monster-aimed medicines before setting the first aid kit back to its rightful place. The only things he could recall to be truly theirs were their cellphone, wallet, keys, and eyeglasses case. Going back to that memory makes him wonder -- were their priorities in the format of a list -- what number they would label themself with.

"You usually carry stuff in that bag meant for other people -- not you." He eyes the pocket with a few contents poking out from it. "...Or am I Ied to believe that bright pink Husky hairpin's yours?"

The human looks confused for a moment, until their eyes cast down at their bag and assess the pocket his gaze is most focused on. Then, they come across one of the smaller ones, where the mentioned accessory stays clipped to. "It- It's not! That's just in case Frisk needs it." They take it and hide it away in one of the bigger, emptier pockets. "It's their favourite hairpin, and they use it more often now that their hair's getting longer."

"But they ain't here right now."

"Yes, but what if they need it later -- when I go pick them up?"

He can barely contain the joy their overly defensive expression brings upon his face.

Perhaps it's pure projection or coincidence, but they appear to resemble the same dog he mentioned with the stance they hold, not threatening in the slightest and charming at best, but still ready to attack -- figuratively, of course. Hearty laughter escapes him, though he covers it up with a harrumph. "I'm surprised you don't carry the whole house with you, at this point."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"If only you applied that thought for you, too."

They swat his skull with their hand and let out a chuckle. "Don't nag me, teddy bear." Nonetheless, a more serious look overcomes them as they sigh. "You're right, though." With how quiet it gets and how long that pause lasts, it appears as if they've become lost in their thoughts. "Not only did the social worker suggest it, but it's not fair for me to keep bothering you or anyone else because of my..." They scratch their throat and grin. "...consistently questionable life choices."

"Is that a promise I'm hearin'?"

"A big and definite one."

• • •

Half-open windows help bring some clear air into the stuffy room, as does the air conditioner set to the coldest temperature possible by lessening the dryness and heat of the wind. It's all paired up with the scents of the fresh cinnabunnies and iced coffee he carries in some paper bags, food he bought at Snowdin while the human showered. Sans sets the meal by the nightstand, covers it up with some aluminum foil, and -- finally -- wipes a layer of dirt away from the mirrored dresser before assembling some toiletries on it. Then, he sits down in bed, closes his eye sockets, and waits. The sounds of his soul beating, the breeze blowing the curtains, and the shower running are the only melodies to take over the quiet of the hotel. Turning on the radio by the nightstand further assists those noises and aids in transforming the room into a more welcoming and cozy spot, overall. The last thing on his mental to-do list is to wait some more by checking his phone and updating himself on any new messages, some few from (Y/N)'s coworkers wishing him luck. A grin's inevitable as he reads through these a second time.

The shower turning off and a door unlocking are the next changes he notices, along with the radio switching from music to news.

Sans feels his breath tremble when the human steps out. They're dressed to the nines despite their attire being composed of the simplest clothing possible: a new pair of his below-the-knee shorts, these fitting slightly above theirs as a result of their taller height; plus one of his baggiest shirts, now almost at belly button length for the same reason as the first piece. What makes such a common attire seem so complex and thought-out is how well they've adjusted it to their figure; it's either that, or he has his head in the clouds again. Regardless, they knew how to fix an outfit, and it wasn't that of much surprise if he compared it to the time they pulled the same trick when borrowing some sleepwear from Toriel's wardrobe.

Or, then again…

He was slowly becoming infatuated with them and couldn't avoid finding them attractive -- no matter the clothing worn.

At the sight of (Y/N) having their back turned to him while they perform their finishing touches by the dresser, he approaches them as quietly as he can, yet he lets himself be seen halfway with the reminder of the nightmare they had and how startled they could likely be if he tried anything extreme. He goes to hug them from behind when they catch him getting closer, though they say and do nothing in response. Still, his expectations of no retaliation are promptly shattered as they turn around, grab his hands, and twirl him once, preventing the hug.

"Nice try, teddy bear," they comment, smiling. "Do try again next time." They wink.

It's a knockout when the radio decides to switch back to music, inspiring in them what he assumes is an urge to take their current hold on him to lead him into an impromptu dance.

"So… You want to get flirty with me again?" they ask, grabbing his hands tight as they sway him left and right at a rhythmic but easy motion. "Then you've got to handle me flirting back." One hand holds his left one up while the other places his right one on their waist. Theirs then falls on his shoulder when he keeps his where they placed it at, this one he has trouble keeping still with how close he is to touch their skin, part of their waist now more exposed with their movements, showing the “love handles” he'd teased them about since he first flirted with them. A subtle but no less playful smile stretches their lips; their eyes soften, though mischief flares in their gaze. "I've made the decision to trust you," they comment, twirling him around once more. "So if you'd like us to be official, we can, but…" Their steps slow down as they trail off in their thoughts.

He treads in with, "You need to wait until the CPS thing's over with, right?"

They nod. "Unfortunately."

Their sorrow stays brief and their playfulness returns, replacing their momentary frown for yet another smile. "My memory might be a bit bad though, as I've never heard you say you like me before." To further increment the effects of their teasing, their lips fall close to his teeth but end up lower, kissing his jaw instead. "...In other words," they add, hands locking firm around his neck and bringing him closer to them. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Sans feels his face turn about as warm as theirs felt, and he can tell they've noticed, based on the way their face lingers close to his -- waiting.

"...I like you," he says, far too quiet to be labeled anything but a murmur; even a thought could be considered louder than his words.

They land another kiss, much closer to his teeth. "Couldn't hear you."

"I like you, puddin'," he repeats, stronger this time. "Can you, uh… do that again, though? It felt nice."

They nod, lean in further, and press yet another kiss to his face. "Gladly."

With that, the human carries on with the dance. They sway him left and right and perform small circles across the hotel room, adding a twirl every few seconds -- sometimes with them taking the lead, and vice versa. "I like you, too, Serif." Despite the meaning and weight of their words, a frown arrives on their face. "But…" They hesitate. "I still have some doubts, and I think that dream I had confirmed that."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

A few seconds of silence remain and the song ends, dropping tension in the room.

"Not now, but… But maybe later?" They let him go. "If possible, I'd like to talk at the Judgment Hall -- where you last worked before leaving the Underground."

Despite his best efforts, the skeleton can't avoid commenting, "Want me to judge how good you look right now?"

The human sighs, loud and long. "...Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop."

He lets out a resounding, jovial laugh at that.

Their tone's genuinely sad, as so's their expression.

They look a hundred and ten percent done with him, though they still push forward with a, "Be serious for a moment, please. I… I really mean it, and that dream I had…" Demurral returns to their words. "It involved one of my fears about Frisk's safety, and well…" They take a deep, shaky breath. "A- And my own safety when I'm around you."

The severity of their statement dawns on him, and his view distorts itself from an attractive human to a vulnerable one standing in front of him, weak and poorly prepared -- completely alone with him in a large, abandoned, and dilapidated hotel. They were easy prey from the viewpoint of an Underground Sentry. He could easily take them captive with their current state of health and their lack of knowledge in combat. Were he still assigned to that job, had (Y/N) fallen in Frisk's stead, and were finding that seventh soul still a priority, he could just as easily inform every other member of the Royal Guard to bring the human down to the Monster King's bidding. Unlike Frisk, they had little to no determination left in their soul; a quick and direct intervention meant danger for them.

And had he still that same mindset to this day, his agreement with Asgore to serve and protect (Y/N) would be something he could break -- something simple to deal with if he framed the blame on someone else. He could just as likely tolerate some jail time for failing to fulfill his part of that job with no protest. The only real obstacle would be (Y/N)'s child themself, knowing they were likely going to guard and care for their parent unconditionally. But even then, they were still alone with him presently; in other words, he could cover up any potential evidence of him being a culprit with time to spare. Perhaps Frisk was the hero of the story, but (Y/N) was still an NPC -- someone easy to get rid of with the right amount of caution and preparedness.

"You mentioned something about Karma before, and well…" They break the silence and snap him out of those thoughts. "I've made a lot of bad choices and awful mistakes, so that makes me wonder if, m- maybe…" Tears form in their eyes as they breathe in -- once, then twice. "If maybe I don't deserve any of this kindness or forgiveness that I've been getting recently, and… And that maybe I don't belong in this story, y'know? Frisk has done all the work here so far, and they've overcome plenty of obstacles, too. Meanwhile, I- I'm a weak, ill person with a dead-end job -- trying to keep a holey row boat afloat with napkins." They let out a shaky sigh and fail at a smile. "I get that you like me, and I can't deny or ignore my own feelings for you, but I'm… I'm an unworthy, ungrateful person. We've known each other for barely half a year. Th- There's stuff you don't know about me yet -- just as I don't know about you."

Their face shines with tears, these they can't bring themself to stop with how many pour down, and how fast these are. "I've already troubled and hurt Frisk enough as it is, and I've... I've troubled well-meaning family like Brenda just as much with my mistakes." They cover their face as they sit down in bed, trying to contain their sorrow. "...And then I have these awful, intrusive thoughts that seep in whenever I think I'm doing better. I don't want to bring trouble to you or any other monsters, either, but reminding myself of my past worsens these feelings, kn- knowing I might screw up again and again and again."

Feeling the situation's getting too rough not to establish some control over it, Sans sits down with them and grabs their wrists, tugging at these for them to look down at him.

Fear reaches their gaze as they stare at his irises, completely overcoming their bright and cheerful attitude from earlier.

"Breathe," he says, voice low as he loosens his grip on their wrists -- at the feeling of them shaking almost violently under his hold. "We'll go to the Hall in a few. But, first... I'm gonna need you to calm down a lil' more." He lets go.

They nod, close their eyes, and let a few more tears drift down before he dries the rest of these off with the sleeve of his jacket. "...Alright."

When they shudder, sniffle, and recover some sense of tranquility, they look at him again and smile. "And thank you for showing me patience."

He smiles back and brings them in for a hug -- long, tight, and strong. "That I've got plenty of, puddin'."

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[an-annyeoing-writer]

Chanyeol x Reader: a day from humble slave’s life. [+18]

Word count: ~5k 

Warnings: s*xual themes, slavery, objectification, minor fat shaming. Please, don’t mistake this with non-con, for it’s not, but if you feel like an impression may trigger you too, simply don’t read it.

This is a fantasy. As much as I tried to portray Chanyeol’s personality accordingly, it has little to do with how I see him as a person, and - especially - with who he really is. Nonetheless, this is NOT meant to insult anyone.

The story was originally a birthday gift for my friend, and therefore, Reader’s age is specified and it’s also mentioned to be her birthday - forgive me that ^_^

7 A.M.

Even before your eyes open, the first streak of consciousness is how you welcome the world.

It’s not going to be a good morning, you think at first; your eyes are sticky as soon as you try to pry them open, your muscles ache, your hair is a mess. How disgraceful, you think. You can’t show yourself to the world like this. Thank God for the attached bathroom.

Look pretty, you were once told, that’s all you can do well.

The words, back then, didn’t sound half as appreciative as you considered them now. But with time, they became a motto, a goal, a purpose. They did say that you’re not good for anything else, but they also said you’re good at this one thing.

Look pretty for the one who deserves it. Whatever your Owner shall want to do with your body, you shall obey.

And if He doesn’t say anything, if He doesn’t even look at you, living His life as if you didn’t exist, then the least you can do is be pretty as to not offend Him: you owe Him your best quality, after all.

The shower is over, the make-up done, the clothes, selected carefully, wrapped around your silhouette as to expose what’s the best in it. The corset is so tight it hurts. But it’s worth it if that’s what He wants.

Off to eat a breakfast. The corset’s gonna get even worse after you eat, but that’s also the price you agree to pay. Eat, to stay healthy: not stuff yourself, not pleasure yourself with sweets. Eat to stay healthy and not cause Him any problems, so that your body stays in the best shape. He expects no less.

He’s there, you realize with surprise. He doesn’t stay around too often and usually doesn’t eat the breakfast at home. But He’s there, sitting in the dining room. Someone is serving Him a breakfast: one of many others, men and women, that He owns. They’re useful, you think. They can cook, they can keep the house clean.

All you can do, is to look pretty.

So you bow deeply as soon as you see Him, and when His gaze finally meets yours, you kneel on the floor next to the door, eyes on the ground as to not annoy Him, letting Him enjoy the sight of what He owns. It probably looks weird, you think, a woman kneeling on the floor with other people around, not an intimate situation at all – she’s not His lover, after all, just a property.

You don’t know if He looks at you, but your posture is perfect as if He did.

When He stands up and goes to the door, you dare not to look up.

When He’s right next to you, His fingers find your lips and put a small chocolate on your tongue, a token of approval; the chocolate is so, so good that you melt in its taste, and you take as much of it as you can, playing with it in your mouth long after He leaves without a word.

*

10 A.M.

Everyone knows, more or less, what’s His job: the exact crimes remain unknown, though, and His secrets stay safe: no one in the house would ever dare to spread them around. And it’s not like it’d be easy to do, either – only some of you are allowed to leave the house in the first place, and you’re not one of these. There’s no reason for you to leave, anyway, since everything you’d need: cosmetics, clothes – there’s nothing more you’d need, right? – other people only give you, and you’re given the exact things that suit His taste, no room for you to do wrong. There’s no reason to give Him surprises, either: you’re like a product, a window’s curtains that are changed to their owner’s liking, not picked randomly in a shop, but chosen by what he likes and what suits the rest of the house.

Your dress now is made of the same purple fabric as sofas in the living room when you’re called over and enter the spacious room with huge windows; a few familiar faces sit in various places all around – not your friends by any means, but people you just saw here before.

“Are you, for real?” one of them says. Your Owner laughs in response.

“See for yourself, Xing” He answers and motions you over.

A small movement of His fingers, a signal you’ve been taught long ago.

On your knees, it says, and you instantly catch the cue, a bit nervous at first, glancing at the stranger’s face just to make sure he’s alright with it: out of pure politeness, because you know that even if he didn’t like it, you’d still do it – it’s not him you’re here to obey, after all.

You don’t ask questions as you unzip his jeans, all the modesty gone as your lips wrap around his cock, as casually as it’d be to hand him a glass of water, no objections: you’re so good, so obedient.

You glance to your side with your eyes slightly blurry from tears. You see an amused, but content smile on your Owner’s face and that’s all the motivation you need to grow bolder, to suck harder. Your throat is not so good just yet, it still needs to get better, you realize, and you choke yourself on the man’s length, punishing yourself for not being good enough. It amuses them. You feel their eyes on you, a quiet sound of someone taking a photo, tears run down your face, your makeup smudged, your hair messy from where the man grabbed it, holding onto it as he set a righter pace for you to follow.

When he cums, you hold still. You swallow what you’re given.

“Thank you, sir” you say in a rough voice, your throat strained. The man smiles at you kindly, and you can’t help but smile back.

You know better than to ignore your Owner any longer though, and you turn to face Him, still on your knees of course, eyes on His shoes.

“Look at me” He instructs. You obey.

He stares at you with a smirk.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” you reply honestly.

“You can go. Don’t interrupt us.”

Your duty is fulfilled. It feels so good to be useful.

*

1 P.M.

You’ve been sitting in your bathtub for what feels like hours, but it’s okay, it feels good, the water stays warm, your bathroom is so luxurious you can’t help but savor every minute of having access to it: not owning it, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Everything in this room belongs to Him: the tub with heating system, the thick walls, the expensive cosmetics and the softest towels, and, of course, you.

How much do you love to be owned? He asked you once: do you like where you are, what you are?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you just say that to please me?

I mean it, sir.

Do you, really? Come here, then. Show me how grateful you are. Let your mouth convince me, but not with words.

It felt intimate, to be allowed so close to the one you looked up to. Being allowed to please Him was a blessing, and you wished you’d do it more often, but never dared to ask: you’re too low to demand His attention, so even if He was to say no, it’d be a waste of His precious time to consider your plea in the first place.

So instead, you savored every moment He allowed you, as much as you savored the memory of His small groans, the way He relaxed under your fingers, leaning back in His armchair and not even looking at you, but clearly enjoying this little paradise His humble slave served Him. Oh, how well He trained you, you know just what to do to make Him feel good. He deserves the best of you for He’s the one who gave it to you in the first place.

The memory sends a pleasant tingling down to your core and your fingers instinctively reach down, willing to relieve yourself.

But you stop yourself halfway.

You’re not meant for receiving pleasure, stupid, you remind yourself. There’s a smile on your lips at the thought. You’re good, you won’t do this, it’s not something He’d enjoy knowing of, and therefore there’s no reason to do it.

You choose to stay desperate and you’re proud of this choice.

There’s knocking on your room’s door.

“[F/n]? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Come out, I have something for you!”

“Ah, five minutes!” you call back.

“I’ll wait, then!”

You choose to rest just a little bit longer. She can wait, you decide. The water is just too warm.

*

1:30 P.M.

“Seriously, I thought you died in there” are the first words you hear upon leaving the bathroom. Your friend seems annoyed and it’s, truthfully, justified. But then her face brightens up. “Ah, look, I’ve got something good!”

She has boxes with various types of food sprawled over your bed, variety of tastes, mostly healthy, but some sweets as well, and these are mainly things you haven’t tasted in ages since you didn’t really consider yourself worthy of such luxury.

But then, you haven’t seen her lately, you missed her: she always brings something good to share, either be it food or jewelry you can wear for some time before returning it. These are little breaks in your routine, small pieces of something different than you usually experience. It’s good to recall how usual, human life looks like, even if you’re back to your own usual self soon later.

You notice a new, leather collar wrapped around her neck. You feel like you’d look good in one if you had it, too. Your Owner just never thought of idea as such, but who knows, maybe He’ll see her and decide it’s a good one? You can always hope for it.

“What’s that?” you ask, picking a random box. It smells good, sea-like.

“I have completely no idea, but it tastes good” she replies, stuffing her face with some vegetables she holds with sticks. You learned already that as much as she likes food, she never uses her brain to memorize any dish names. It’s not like she has too much brain to begin with, so who cares, anyway. She’s not a cook, but a slave like you, a different kind, but just as devoted and happy with her place. “Ah, try this.” She fetches some sort of candy and puts it by your lips, reminding you briefly of what happened this morning. You take the candy, it melts in your mouth almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her lips are on yours instead, and you taste the pepper with cinnamon she just ate; it’s a strange connection, but it tastes good, and, somehow, it suits the candy’s flavor still present on your tongue.

You feel stiff at first, but quickly melt into the sensation. You weren’t caressed like this in ages, your mouth has only one purpose on daily basis; it feels nice. Her hand is soon on your breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of your silk bathrobe. She doesn’t wait long before pushing the fabric off you, your fresh and clean body, exposed to the air, getting still hotter with every passing second.

The door creaks and you two finally part; your eyes are on the man that stands in the door frame, his eyebrows raised at your friend as she lets out an awkward laugh.

He rolls his eyes, only half-amused with what he just saw.

“We’re going home” he says sternly. Then, without bidding you a good-bye, she gets off the bed and runs to him, and soon, you’re left alone. You didn’t even notice that your robe was off all this time.

But at least you get to keep the food, right?

*

5 P.M.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He doesn’t invite you over for dinner often, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible. Yet, your stomach is still full – it wasn’t a wise choice to eat that much at once. You feel like you will blow up if you eat a gram more of the pork in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, I ate earlier” you explain yourself. It’s not a reply that satisfies Him, but He doesn’t pry, and you hope that He will just brush it off.

“Eat.”

You don’t object, you know you can’t. Your stomach is so full you want to throw up. You take a bit of the pork and slowly munch on the meat, hoping that it’ll become more bearable with time. You don’t want to stretch your stomach like this, you’ll feel hungry more often, and what will He say if you gain weight?

You have to endure.

“What did you eat?” He asks.

“Quinoa with vegetables, fish, oats with milk, candy” you answer truthfully. There were some other funny combinations that you consumed, but you decide these are the essentials.

“Hmm, that sounds like a lot. What if you get fat?” He asks calmly.

“I, uh… I don’t think it’s possible if it’s just one time” you try to state so as humbly as possible, but you feel like no matter what you said, it wouldn’t sound good. Maybe you should have apologized instead? Asked Him to be merciful?

“Are you trying to argue with me?”

“No, sir” you answer instantly, your face showing fear at the thought; you wouldn’t dare, no, never. He seems to see it, the way you shiver at the accusation, and He smiles. You’re relieved. You know that He may punish you, that He may use it as opportunity to give you pain, and even tell you that you deserve it – to not feel bad about doing it to you. However, knowing that it’ll give Him satisfaction, that He won’t do it because He’s authentically mad at you, but just wants to play with His toy, is what makes you happy and excited for what’s to come.

For now, at least.

“I thought so” He just says and goes back to His meal.

Just as He told you to, you continue to eat your portion, trying to stuff yourself as much as possible, knowing that your stomach will hurt even more, and thanking God for not wearing the corset any longer.

“On your knees” He suddenly says when you’re almost done. You don’t object, you do as you’re told. “Crawl there” He motions you to sit nearby, not too close to him, off the rug and on the cold panels, hard under your knees.

He leans chin on His hand, watching you, almost bored.

“Make yourself vomit.”

You swallow your saliva nervously and glance up at Him, hoping that He’s just joking, testing your reactions. His face doesn’t change though, and, as you hesitate, His eyebrows raise in doubt. Will you do it? Will you humiliate yourself as a punishment? Will you ruin yourself once again, not through sex, but through being genuinely disgusting in front of Him?

Will He even like it? How could He enjoy such sight? Won’t He feel sick, since He barely just ate? Is it really what He wants?

“What are you waiting for? Did you not understand me? Or should I go over there and push my own fingers down your throat? That’d be so gross. You don’t want me to dirty my hands, do you?”

You quickly shake your head. Of course, no, He doesn’t need to do something that disgusting. You’ll do it, you can do it.

You push your fingers into your throat until you feel the food go back, and you close your eyes tightly, throwing up all over the floor, sensing it dirty your legs, but refusing to look at it. It feels disgusting, painful, the acidic sensation in your mouth making you want to throw up again.

“Look at me.”

You obey. Your face is still twisted in disgust and He watches you, almost unmoved with the scene that just unfolded.

“Gross. Wash the floor, and yourself. Can’t keep it clean today, can you?” He snorts. “I’m not hungry anymore” He announces suddenly, then stands up and exits the room, leaving you on your knees among your own vomit, allowing you to dwell on your pathetic, miserable self.

You sit there, breathing heavily for what feels like an hour at least.

Then you stand up, still dirty, and still disgusting, probably stinking, too.

And for some reason, it feels good, because you just did what He told you to, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than listening to your Owner’s commands, no matter how destructive and unpleasant would they be, and how unwanted and unattractive they would make you seem.

*

8 P.M.

You lie in your bed, exhausted. Your skin feels dry from all the washing today, especially since you spent so long in the tub earlier. You have your thin robe back on, and your eyes are getting sticky from how tired you are, so you close them and let your body relax. That’s so good, that’s so comfortable.

You don’t know how long you lie there, drifting off despite the early hour, before something rouses you out of the blissful state. You open your eyes and look around: the room is empty, lamps still off, but some of the street light entering through the windows allows you to see the surroundings rather clearly, especially since your eyes already accustomed with the darkness.

And said surroundings are quiet and empty, but your instinct tells you that you should get up just because, and you choose to listen to it: you’re not that tired anymore, you got a bit of rest and this day is far from over.

You stand up and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, its soft light brightening up the whole room, although not too intensely.

The door suddenly opens and a woman speaks to you from the corridor.

“Master wants to see you. Go to his room. Hurry.”

With that, she leaves, and you’re dumbstruck for a few seconds. You quickly realize your mistake: it’s not the time for you to be slow or hesitate. Whatever He wants, you’re here to deliver. It surprises you, though, He never makes requests like such. You wish to know if you should change into something more elegant, more suitable, just in case He’s not alone – the bathing robe exposes a bit too much and you’re worried that He wouldn’t appreciate it right now. Yes, more precise instructions would be appreciated.

But with what you’ve got, all you know is that you should hurry. You don’t take nor change anything, then, only making sure your hair looks presentable – the makeup is already gone, but it will have to stay this way – you fix the belt of your robe, too, not wanting it to slip by accident since you have nothing underneath.

You get up and go. You know where to go, although His room and yours are a few corridors apart – the mansion is big and you need to pass through all the most important places to get there, including the door to one of the living rooms and other servants’ bedrooms.

You knock on the door after a short hesitation: not too quiet, not too loud – it’s hard to measure, you rarely ever knock on any door, not to mention the door to His very bedroom.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

The bedroom is not that much larger than yours, but it seems more personal – there are souvenirs, ornaments, belongings that you don’t get to own, things that prove He owns this place.

And then He’s there: in sweatpants and nothing else, droplets of water randomly running down His back where He didn’t dry them with a towel, or where they slipped from His wet hair. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for long though, because He grabs a shirt and pulls it over His head, and you lower your gaze, realizing that staring probably wouldn’t be approved.

“Bend over the table” He instructs, still not looking at you. He walks around the room and enters the attached bathroom, doing all these small evening things: skincare routine, perfumes that seem to help Him sleep and so on. You stand where you were told to, trying to stop yourself from peeking curiously; it takes Him a few minutes of completely ignoring your presence before He finally sighs and turns to you.

He stands behind you, out of your sight. There’s a silence for a few moments before He suddenly pulls on your robe and throws its lower part over your upper back, exposing your behind. His hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you lower, pressing you against the table’s surface. You don’t flinch.

“Spread your ass” He says, and you obediently move your hands to your cheeks; it feels awkward at first, the air hitting your most private parts, although you know already, there’s no private, and all of you belongs to Him only, all of you is for Him to see, judge and use. “More.”

It almost hurts and you wish you knew what exactly He sees back there; but you don’t. He doesn’t touch you, and a part of you wishes He did – you crave His touch, but you’re aware of your place, you learned to act accordingly.

You jump slightly when He unceremoniously pries your pussy open with His fingers, your hands tremble slightly – it feels so good, His fingers feel so good you could come just from feeling them on you, no matter where, really.

“I heard it’s your birthday today” He says suddenly. His two fingers dive into you and you struggle to keep your composure; your thoughts fly away before you manage to form them into an answer. He pulls His fingers out, spreading your apparent wetness all over your folds. “Is it true?” The touch disappears for a moment and you finally get a chance to breathe.

“Y-yes, sir” you force out.

“I see.”

His fingers are back there, rubbing you slowly a few times, as if checking for any deformations – of course there are none, but He checks nonetheless.

“What’s your age now?” He asks. You wonder if He really doesn’t know, it’s not like He has a reason to care.

“T-twenty one” you mumble in a strained voice.

“Twenty one. In centimeters, that’s how high heels you can only wear from tomorrow on, understood?”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

His hand must be stained with natural lubricant, you realize, as He moves it higher, smoothly pushing one finger into your ass. It’s a miracle you manage to stay still. He doesn’t dwell much on that place though; instead, He pulls out and neatly puts the robe back into place.

“Up and face me.”

Sometimes, you wish to be roughed up – to have your hair pulled roughly, to be manhandled. But He never does that. You know your place. His word is enough to make you do whatever He wants, so why be rough? He’d get unnecessarily tired, and you’re not worth of His sweat, are you?

You stand in front of Him, eyes down, His breath on top of your head, you almost feel His body warmth – you didn’t notice He’s so close, but He is, if you just reached out…

He doesn’t hesitate before pushing the robe open, exposing your front. His hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing it so hard and so suddenly you almost scream, your knees trembling. You force yourself to stand straight, but God, does it hurt. He pinches your nipple, no gentler, but at least doesn’t keep it for so long. He does the same on the other side, and you swear you’ll have them all purple tomorrow, and it lasted less than a minute. They hurt so much.

As soon as He loses interest in your breasts, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to soothe it. His hand moves to your chin instead, forcing it up.

“Open” is all He says and you obey. “Wider.” You try to, but it’s not enough. Pushing fingers into your mouth, He pushes your jaws even further, to the point it hurts and you feel like it will soon break. But you don’t object. He pulls on your tongue – it’s hard not to pull back. You gag as He pushes His fingers deep, but – thank God – takes them out before you can repeat your act from earlier.

You pant when He finally retreats and the contact breaks.

“When was the last time you came?” He asks as soon as He decides you’re in the state to provide an answer.

“T… three weeks ago, sir” you mumble.

“That’s not too long ago, is it?”

“Not too long…” You whimper slightly, confirming.

He doesn’t really hold you accountable of this on usual – only when He, for some reason, feels like making you a bit more desperate, a bit more pathetic. But it’s not something that happens often. On most days, He doesn’t even care for your presence, so even if He – or anyone else He approved of – decided, on rare occasions, to use your pussy for a change, He couldn’t care less if you came, as long as you didn’t make His own experience any worse.

But then sometimes, just sometimes, He wanted to see you struggle.

“What’s the longest you went for?”

“A-a month, sir…”

“Well then, what about we make it two?”

You gulp.

“If you wish so, sir…”

“But that’s starting from tomorrow. You will come today.”

Your eyes snap up at Him as He turns around and sits back on His bed, crossing His legs leisurely. You don’t dare to move from your spot – a good choice.

“Kneel down and touch yourself. Leave the robe on, but don’t cover yourself.”

He watches you with a small smirk as you get down. Your pussy is already exposed; you spread your legs as far as you can and lean slightly forward on one hand, the other finding the most aching spots.

Your Owner watches as you start to rub yourself – and you’re shook about how little it takes for you to find yourself on edge.

“Stop.”

You press your lips together, holding back a whine that tries to push through your lips. It hurts, you wish you could just make yourself come, you’re so needy, so starved for it, it’s been so long…

“Give me your robe.”

You don’t ask. You take the fabric off, fold it neatly and stand up, head low, reaching out with your both hands. The man takes it without care, throwing it onto the floor, far from you.

“Go to your room now.”

“Yes, sir…”

You glance briefly at the clock on the wall – it’s almost nine. And you only wonder, how many people will you pass by, going through the cold corridors, with your pussy leaking and your breasts slowly turning blue.

*

11:49 P.M.

You’re asleep when the door opens again – the sound waking you up slowly, your sleepy movements incoherent as you try to turn the light on. You stop though, as, in the darkness slowly dissolving in front of your eyes, you recognize the silhouette that just welcomed you. Your hazy mind doesn’t proceed it fully though, yet, and you don’t know, what would be the right way to react – stand up? Kneel down? Out of no cue, you stay where you are, watching with wide eyes as the man approaches your bed and sits on the mattress.

His hand finds the edge of your sheets and pulls them away from your naked frame – you often slept naked, and now that he rid you off your usual evening attire, it feels like an even righter thing to do.

“S… sir…?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

You stay in your place, your eyes following every movement, and when his hand cups your sex, your breath hitches and you struggle to stay still – of course you struggle; you want to grind down, to prove how needy you are, like a bitch in heat.

But he said, don’t move. So you don’t.

He spreads your legs a bit and teases you, stretching your entrance a little just for the sake of his entertainment, like most of the things he does to you, anyway. But then he suddenly stops and starts to gently rub your clit. You press your lips together. It feels so good, so hot, you wish you could moan, scream for him.

But he said, don’t talk. So you don’t.

His other hand is soon on your hair and he pulls you up, not too gently, but not unnecessarily roughly either. His face is so close, his eyes boring into yours. What did you ever do, to deserve a proximity like this? To deserve that much attention? To deserve his hand pleasing you so well, so good?

Nothing, is the answer. You’re not worthy of it, yet he gives it to you: how generous of him, isn’t it? To be touching the filthy animal you are. He’s so good. He feels so good, and you struggle even more, trying to keep yourself together and hold back for the sake of feeling it just a little longer.

“You may come, if you want.”

“Sh… should I?”

He smirks.

“Do you want to?”

You hesitate, a second too long.

His hand disappears and you’re left panting, writhing, squeezing your legs together for friction, but feeling as though nothing can satiate you as well as his fingers did, and you finally let out a cry. How vulnerable.

When you come back to your senses, you feel his eyes on you and quickly return the gaze – you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him, never. You may have lost your mind for a few moments, but it’s back there – figuratively, for you’re just a dumb whore, there’s no much mind left in you.

“I told you, that you will come today, but you didn’t listen.” You quickly glance at the clock – it’s 00:02. Oh, God. Oh, no. “And now that your birthday is over, I don’t need to hold back, do I?”

You want to say that he shouldn’t hold back regardless of the day, but you soon realize it probably wouldn’t be in your best favor.

And that he doesn’t really need your approval.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

[thorinlandscaping]

Here’s my @officialtolkiensecretsanta gift for @ela-draws! I hope you enjoy it, I had a blast working on it!

to meet once again (to stay forevermore)

A century is hardly anything to an elf. With a life spanning millennia, most elves would hardly consider a single century to be of any importance. To Fingon, the past century had felt like all of eternity and then some. Even to an elf, a century without their love was far too long. 

Fingon did not wish for his love to die, for he knew that Maedhros would never be at rest on the shores of Aman until his oath was fulfilled, but nonetheless his waiting grew tiresome. He wanted to see Maedhros again more than anything, but as the days and years drew on it seemed like his wish would never come true, that Maedhros would defy the odds and survive on the other side of the sea for many ages.

And then, one nondescript morning, the news that Maedhros dwelled in the halls of Mandos arrived. Suddenly, the century Fingon had spent waiting felt like nothing compared to the time it took him to reach the Halls of Mandos from his home. He did not stop to give the news to anyone else, every second he spent away from Maedhros now felt like a second too many. 

Thoughts of Maedhros consumed his entire being, Maedhros was in the Halls of Mandos. Fingon could see Maedhros. After one hundred and fifteen years, Maedhros was finally within his reach. 

His frantic search through the Halls of Mandos garnered him many strange looks, but Fingon could not bring himself to care. Not when Maedhros was so close. He would not slow down until the moment he found Maedhros again. He could not slow down until he found Maedhros. He had spent far too long without Maedhros by his side to care what other people thought of him. 

Fingon felt his desperation clawing up his throat. He knew Maedhros’s family had been allowed to leave the Halls of Mandos, but perhaps Maedhros would be kept back? Why else would he be unable to find him?

Just as Fingon began to give up hope, he found him. Sat to the side of one of the many large halls within Mandos’s realm was Maedhros. The very sight of him took Fingon’s breath away. Even with his back turned to Fingon, his beauty was unmatchable. 

“Maedhros,” Fingon said softly, taking a step forward.

Maedhros did not turn to Fingon, as he had not heard his call. Instead he remained seated, staring off into the distance, seeming to not be present in his own body. The image he painted, while seeming peaceful at first glance, was disturbing to Fingon. His love should not seem so despondent, should not be so disconnected from himself. It was almost as if he was not inhabiting his own body at all.

“Maedhros,” Fingon said, louder, loud enough for his voice to carry over to Maedhros. Maedhros twitched slightly, but otherwise showed no indication that he’d heard Fingon’s call. Fingon’s unease turned into true concern. Although he did not want to approach Maedhros without the other’s knowledge, it seemed that would be the only way to get his attention. 

He approached the sitting figure slowly, afraid to startle Maedhros from his daze. The few others in the area gave him strange looks for his slow gait, but then noticed who he was approaching and quickly looked away. Even after many centuries, Maedhros was still a pariah amongst the elves in Aman. The few that remained in the hall quickly left. 

Fingon sat in front of Maedhros, yet he still received no reaction. Fingon grimaced at the dead look in his eyes. “Maedhros,” he said, reaching out to gently touch Maedhros’s face, ”Come back to me, Maedhros.”

At Fingon’s touch, life began to return to the eyes of his beloved. The light in his eyes that Fingon was so fond of began to reignite. Maedhros blinked slowly, recognition blooming across his face. 

“Fingon?” Maedhros whispered cautiously, hopefully. 

Fingon let out a sob. “Yes, Maedhros, it’s me. I’m here.”

Maedhros reached up and touched the hand that still rested on his face and drew it away, clutching at it desperately. “You’re here,” Maedhros’s voice was full of wonder as he said this, “You’re really here, with me.”

Suddenly Fingon was tugged into Maedhros’s arms and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Maedhros’s torso. 

They remained as such for a great long time, in each other's arms sitting on the floor, many elves entering the hall they occupied and swiftly exiting once they noticed their reunion. 

After a while Fingon drew back and pulled them to their feet. Maedhros wobbled unsteadily, but Fingon was there to stabilize him. For a moment they simply stood together, basking in each other’s presence. But Fingon quickly grew weary of the continuous gawking of the other elves in the Halls of Mandos.

“Maedhros, would you mind if we left the Halls and retired to my home?” Fingon asked gently.

“I have been given leave to exit the Halls, but,” Maedhros paused, reluctance clear on his face, the light that had awoken in his eyes once he saw Fingon slowly dimming, “I do not know if I will be welcome beyond them.” 

While Fingon could see the wisdom in his words, after all Maedhros’s reputation had not been improved in his absence, but Fingon did not care. He wouldn’t leave him behind again, for any reason. 

“You are welcome with me, for all eternity. You are welcome in my home, my life, in my heart forever. Do not keep from me for the sake of others,” Fingon said. Maedhros leveled him with an unsure gaze, looking ready to protest once more. Fingon couldn’t have that.

“These years without you have left me miserable, you must make them up to me by living out the rest of your days by my side,” Fingon commanded. Maedhros’s stare turned surprised, then amused. 

“How could I refuse, I have made you suffer and as such I will of course bow to your demands,” Maedhros said, the tone of his voice almost seeming teasing. 

Fingon felt a smile split across his face. Not only was Maedhros willing to come with him, but it seemed that his sadness was not so overwhelming as to steal his good sense of humour. 

“Come, then,” Fingon said, squeezing Maedhros’s hand, “Let us leave this place, for it is far too gloomy for a proper reunion. We must have a proper celebration. With cake, and the rest of the family. Your brothers and parents will be happy to see you after all this time, you have kept from us longer than we thought you would.”

Maedhros gave a small smile. “I am happy to know they are all here for me to see, I have missed them. And I have missed you more than any other.”

Fingon found his breath once again stolen by the elf before him. “Maedhros. I have missed you every day since we last parted. I am glad we will not be parted again.”

“I am glad as well. Shall we leave now? Perhaps have a few moments for ourselves before we face the family?” Maedhros asked, joy leaking into his voice.

“Yes, I think that would be quite agreeable,” Fingon replied, the joy in Maedhros’s voice echoed in his own.

They left the Halls of Mandos side-by-side, hopeful for their future, ready to face whatever Eru would throw at them. 

A century is hardly anything to an elf. One hundred years is nothing when you live for countless thousands. Even so, a century without one’s love is far too long. It is a good thing, then, that they would never have to spend so long away from each other again.

[dimimagines]

Ask and ye shall receive. How about Felix trying to make a treat for his s/o but they catch him before it’s done?

Ask and you shall receive as well, anon! I hope you enjoy this!~ I tried my best to make Felix and baking remain in character!

Felix x Reader - A Baked Surprise

You always did so much for him. You put up with his grumpy attitude, you spar with him if he asks you to, you go out of your way to give him gifts that he enjoys, but most importantly, you love him as he is. You understood him and his love language, even if it wasn’t with words. Taking action held more meaning than words, he would say. Today, he wanted to show some more appreciation for you and he planned to do just that by making you something you’d enjoy. You were always going out of your way to do the same for him, and it was about time that he returned the favour, even if he didn’t particularly excel in the kitchen.

He hated sweets himself, and preferred not to eat any if possible, but he knew that you enjoyed them from time to time. Namely, when you were having tea parties with Mercedes and Annette. The last time you had had tea with the two girls, he snuck a glance at the snacks on the table; more particularly, the snacks on your own plate. If you were eating them, then that meant you liked them. It wouldn’t be hard to identify what it was and look up a recipe in the library- there’s no way he was going to ask Mercedes for a recipe. He wanted to surprise you with this, and if he asked Mercedes for help, he not only put himself at risk for being teased, but there was also a high chance of Mercedes spilling the beans to you.

Finding a recipe wasn’t that hard; you were eating a sponge cake at the time, and there were plenty of recipes for that in the library. He picked the one that had the smallest amount of sugar possible, if he did this right then he might indulge you with a tea time and eat it with you. Maybe. Most likely. He enjoyed spending time alone with you, after all, if he didn’t you two wouldn’t be in a relationship and he wouldn’t be going out of his way to skip training to bake you something.

With a recipe in hand, all that was left was for him to put everything together. He let out an annoyed huff, cooking wasn’t so bad; at least he could cut some ingredients. Baking on the other hand seemed boring and like a waste of time to him; all he was doing was measuring ingredients and mixing them together. But if it was for you, and it was, he was willing to do it. Just this once. Maybe again if your reaction was good. Being with you did things to his heart he wasn’t used to. Usually, he’d never go this far out of his way just for the chance to see a damn smile, but yours was well worth the effort.

As he distracted himself with measuring and mixing the ingredients as best as he could, you were wandering around the monastery looking for your boyfriend. Where was he? You checked the training grounds, the knights hall, you even went in his room to see if he was there. You just couldn’t find him, much to your own displeasure. Usually, finding Felix was one of the easiest tasks in the world; if he wasn’t training, then he was with you or- ah. The dining hall. You hadn’t bothered checking to see if by some chance he left the training grounds for a meal. Seeing as it was the only destination you could think of, you started making your way there.

Felix was in fact, in the dining hall. But he wasn’t eating like you had expected him to be. He was in the kitchen- wait… was he baking? The concept struck you as odd, you knew Felix hated sweets almost as passionately as he loved swords. You approached him with a small smile and leaned against the counter, regardless of the situation, you were still happy to have finally found him.

“There you are, Felix! I’ve been looking all over the place for you. What are you making?” You asked, brightly beaming up at him. Not seeing you approach, he turned around quickly with shock apparent on his face before he let out a grumble. So much for surprising you, he thought. You pouted, thinking he was upset over seeing you.

“Awww come on Felix, I just wanted to spend some time with you. Is it really so bad to want to spend a little quality time with the man I love?” You raised an eyebrow up at him, as his face flushed a pale pink.

“No, that’s not the problem. You know I don’t mind being with you, if I did, I would have said something a long time ago. It’s just…” He let out an annoyed huff, rolling his eyes before his face turned an even darker shade. The man was flustered, and anyone with eyes could see that. It was really cute, if you had to say so for yourself; not that you’d ever say it out loud to him. Felix most certainly would not appreciate you calling him cute.

“Look. You always do so much for me, so I decided that I’d try to do something for you. So I decided to try to bake a cake for you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but that didn’t last long did it? It was a dumb idea anyways, baking you a cake.” His explanation made your heart flutter as you blushed, a huge grin settling on your face. Felix was baking? For you? And he wanted it to be a surprise? He didn’t often do romantic gestures like this, but when he did, your heart went wild, and it was hard to keep yourself standing still.

“I don’t think it was a dumb idea. Felix, that’s so sweet of you to think about me and do all of this for me. I’m really touched by all of this, you really didn’t have to go out of your way for me. I’m happy just being able to spend time with you.” You couldn’t help but to allow a giggle to escape your lips, everything he was doing right now was just so endearing and precious to you.

With a pause he sighed and gave you a gentle smile, one reserved only for you, “Well, if it makes you that happy, then I guess I can’t complain. I can’t promise you it’ll taste good though, so don’t expect something extravagant to come out of the oven, alright?”

You nodded in response, looking over his shoulders and at the cake that was currently baking in the oven. It looked and smelled divine, he needed to give himself more credit for it. “Regardless of how it tastes, I’ll eat it. Because you’re the one who made it for me, and I love you. I’m sure it’ll taste great, it smells wonderful already.” You may have been a little cheesy with the words you were saying but they were all true. Even if the cake somehow came out tasting like one of Flayn’s abominations, you would have eaten it all. Though, you highly doubted anything could compare to the stuff Flayn made; she once used the oil to clean armour as an oil for deep frying food. Thankfully, Felix had much more common sense than that.

“That was stupidly mushy of you. Ugh, you’re being all lovey-dovey because of a dumb cake.” The words may have sounded distant and harsh, but the softness in his eyes and blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“I’d argue that I’m being all lovey-dovey because of you. I wouldn’t say these things if anyone else was baking a cake.” You decided to tease him a bit, his reactions were just far too good for you to pass up.

“I sure hope you wouldn’t say these things if someone else was making the cake.” He grumbled as he turned around to take the cake out of the oven. It looked perfectly baked, you could tell he put a lot of thought and effort into making it for you.

“Hey Felix?” You asked, getting his attention as he set the cake down on a cooling rack. He faced towards you once more, an eyebrow arched up, waiting for you to continue.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Your eyes were filled to the brim with all the love and affection you had for him.

“That’s a random change in topic.” He quickly spoke, turning back around to face the cake once more. His ears with red for what you saw, and you grinned from behind him, even though he couldn’t see it. He really was way cuter than he thinks he is.

“Aw come on, don’t you want to say it back?~” With a sing-song voice, you made your way past the counters and into the kitchen with him, standing in front of him and wrapping your arms around his body, pulling him closer to you as you leaned your forehead up against his. A rather intimate act that would most likely get you a scolding later for doing so in public, but that was a risk you were willing to take.

His response was a quiet whisper, one you had to strain your ears to hear, but delighted you nonetheless. “I love you too, you moron.” With those words said, you stole a simple and small peck from his lips before pulling away. Picking up a fork, you gently pressed into the sponge cake taking a bite. It was airy, fluffy, sweet but not overly so- Felix might actually enjoy eating this with you, so long as the two of you drank his favourite tea, Almyran pine needles, with it.

“It tastes amazing, Felix. It’s not too sweet too. Did you make this so we could have tea together?” You inquired, a small smirk playing on your lips. Not only did he bake something for you with the intention to surprise you, but he also went out of his way to ensure it was suitable to both of your tastes so he could spend more time with you as you both ate it.

He huffed, pulling out the Almyran pine needles tea, a teapot, two cups and setting them on a tray with the cake before finally answering your question, “I will neither confirm nor deny doing that. You’ll just have to follow me to find out.” He finished speaking as he headed towards his dorm, carrying the tray. You gleefully followed him, ready to spend the rest of the day with your grumpy but kind and considerate boyfriend. He may not have surprised you in the way he was hoping to, but you were definitely smiling a whole lot for him. He would have to do this again.

[fierysafrina]

Time | Obey Me! part 2 of Broken Bonds

Fandom: Obey Me! Rating: General Word Count: 5.770 Genre: Hurt | Slice of Life | Angst | slight Comfort Summary: Thinking you had everything under control, it took only one visit to shatter that comfort you lived in. Notes: I-I honestly can’t say anything about this. I thought of writing fluff for part 2, but alas it didn’t happen. I do hope some of your questions will be answered. As it seems there’s most like going to be part 3 as well!

Those who haven’t read part 1, you can read it here.

---

Lucifer shut his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. He let out a silent sigh, but was quick to look towards the door when he heard a knock.

“Come in,” he spoke quietly, but still loud enough.

The doors opened and for a moment he saw you walk inside. Your smile was present as you held a tray with coffee in one hand. His eyes widened and he was about to call for your name, but your silhouette disappeared, leaving a bitter emotion in its wake.

Instead, Simeon stood on the doorway, his gaze knowing and Lucifer couldn’t find it in himself to dismiss him before he could speak of his business. He sighed once again, but lowered his gaze back on papers, which oddly belonged to you. They were your graded papers of your stay in Devildom that professors gave to him to hand them to you. Lucifer couldn’t tell them you were gone.

“I brought some coffee with me.” Simeon spoke and walked inside, closing the door behind. His lips twitched into a smile at the reaction he received—disbelief, dislike.

“I have no need for it.” Lucifer replied. He didn’t argue when Simeon ignored and approached his desk, placing the tray down before he sat down.

“You still prefer it black, don’t you?”

“What’s your business here, Simeon?” Lucifer went straight to the point, making the angel chuckle. He narrowed his eyebrows, taking the cup he was given with gratitude nonetheless.

“How are your brothers?” the angel asked instead, still partly ignoring the first born. “I heard they … made quite a ruckus a couple of weeks ago.” He continued, taking a sip of the coffee. He hummed at the taste of it. His blue eyes pierced right through Lucifer’s. “It must hurt that a mere human was the one to break your pact just when you formed it, doesn’t it?”

The cup Lucifer was holding cracked into pieces, his demon form coming forth.

Simeon widened his eyes, yet didn’t feel intimidated by it in the least. “How odd…” he murmured. “You care about them now, but not when they were still here. Care to share?”

“I have no business with you, Simeon.” Lucifer gritted through his teeth, anger flashing in his eyes. “State your reason or leave. As far as I know, the exchange program has been delayed until further notice.”

“I must correct you there.” Simeon placed the cup back on the tray, eyes staring right into his. “Lord Diavolo hasn’t told you of it yet, but [Name] won’t return.” Lucifer’s eyes widened. “When they broke your pact, it should’ve been clear enough.” He stood up, expression changing to sadness. “This time they’re gone for good.”

---

Luke fidgeted on his feet while looking around. Holding a small bag in his hands, his eyes widened and almost yelped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and sighed from relief, recognizing Solomon. “You scared me.” He murmured with one hand over his chest.

“I apologize,” Solomon smiled. He eyed the bag, smiling. “Have you found them?”

Luke nodded. “They’re at-uh-at the cemetery…” he stammered and averted his gaze to the side. “I-I found them a couple of days ago.”

Solomon nodded in understanding. “Shall we meet them halfway?”

Luke blinked. He nodded a moment later. “But…” he stopped quickly after he began walking. Solomon raised an eyebrow in wonder. “What if they refuse to meet us?”

“They’re not like that,” The sorcerer answered. “They’re still going through a hard time, which is understandable, but I doubt they’d hate to see us. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Biting on his lower lip, Luke stared at the bag before he quietly nodded. Solomon smiled and just as they were about to continue, a quiet voice called from behind; “Solomon?” making them turn. Their eyes widened when they saw you standing there. You were holding a grocery bag, which meant you went to the store on the way. For a moment they both thought you were okay, but the moment they looked closer, they could see your hair was messier and dark circles beneath your dull eyes. Your face was paler and before anyone could say a word, Luke was already embracing you, his arms tight around your waist.

Your eyes were wide as you stared down at the young angel. A small smile spread across your lips quickly after and you patted his head. “It’s been long, Luke.” Your voice was soft and quiet, yet it didn’t have that happiness it always seemed to hold.

Solomon approached the two of you, a smile present. “It’s good to see you.”

Your gaze met his and you nodded, replying; “You as well.” Pulling Luke away, you caressed his cheek, frowning when you spotted tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” you asked, nibbling on your lip.

“How are you feeling?” Solomon asked instead.

You looked at him, frowning. “Alright,”

“I didn’t mean that.” he shook his head and you startled, realizing what he meant. “All seven pacts were broken at the same time. You should rest more.”

“I’m alright,” you repeated with a sigh. “I need to occupy myself.”

Solomon shook his head. “You’re as stubborn as you’ve always been.”

You chuckled at his words. “I was learning from the best.”

The sorcerer sighed, shaking his head once more. Luke meddled with the bag in his hands before handing it over to you. You blinked in confusion but took the bag.

“I-I made some cookies…” Luke stammered, looking all around than at you. The corners of your lips turned upwards in a small smile. “It-it’s the ones you like be-best…”

“Thank you,” You whispered. Putting it inside the grocery bag, you looked at both. “Would you like a cup of tea, coffee?”

“We don’t want to impose on you.” Solomon softly smiled.

“Nonsense,” you chuckled. “I like your company.” You blinked, eyes widening when you realized what you said. Cheeks heating up you cleared your throat.

“We’d love to!” Luke squeaked.

You blinked, but quickly nodded, expression softening. “Well then,” you murmured and continued your way.

Solomon and Luke were quick to join, each on your sides. While Solomon remained silent most of the time, Luke on the other hand was quite chatty. To say the least, you were quite glad to talk about something entirely different than one and the same thing; your family. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Luke, Solomon and Simeon. You missed them a lot, but you couldn’t deny that you missed the brothers as well. With their help, you made sure to disappear from the place you once called home. As much as it hurt you, you knew that would be the first place the brothers would visit once they realized the pact, bond was broken.

Thankfully, Solomon didn’t question you about them. Luke didn’t mention anything related to Devildom and whenever Simeon visited you – which was rarely, much to your disappointment – he only sat there and listened to you as you talked or just both sat in complete silence, observing the nature around.

And just like that, time passed by without you realizing.

---

Five years. It took five years for them to get a sign. Five years to catch a glimpse of you for just a mere second.

“Lucifer,” Barbatos spoke before Lucifer could leave.

“Yes?” Lucifer turned to look at him. He was impatient, Barbatos could see, because they both knew that lead he had could disappear any moment. He couldn’t waste time.

“Lord Diavolo is asking for you.”

Lucifer stilled. He missed the way Barbatos’ lips turned in an almost invisible smile as Lucifer thought through. Should he go to Lord Diavolo? Or should he apologize and go to his brothers and tell him what he found.

“Barbatos—” Lucifer began, but the said demon shook his head, saying; “It’s alright.”

The corners of Lucifer’s lips turned upwards as he lowered his head, turned around and disappeared down the hallway. Barbatos stood there for a moment until he heard footsteps approaching.

“It seems that little tip was successful.” Diavolo spoke, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you certain it will help?” Barbatos turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “They’re still…quite emotional when it comes to them.”

Diavolo chuckled. “If there’s one place they’re most safe in, it’s in their own house. If memory isn’t betraying me, Solomon and Simeon themselves helped.”

“Ah,” Barbatos nodded, remembering as well, as he caressed his chin. “They’re hasty.” Diavolo hummed in agreement. Barbatos’ eyes sparkled with a vision, smile returning. “It was a shame [Name] refused to come back…” he murmured more to himself, but Diavolo’s laughter grew, which let Barbatos know he heard it.

“We can only wish for their safe reunion.”

---

“What?!” Mammon exclaimed. He sprung on his feet, eyes wide as he stared at Lucifer. “Are ya sure? Really, really sure?”

“Of course I am.” Lucifer snapped rather harshly. “We must act quickly before it disappears.”

“Well, where are they?” Leviathan asked, his fingers meddling together.

“They moved to the countryside, which is why I couldn’t find them.” Lucifer explained. “That sorcerer must have helped them too.”

Asmodeus flinched at the side, frowning a moment later. “It can’t be…” he murmured, holding for his chin. “Whenever I asked if he saw them, he always said he hadn’t seen them since they left.”

“He’s a sorcerer,” Belphegor’s gaze hardened. “And he can order you around. What makes you think he wouldn’t lie either?”

Asmodeus pursued lips into a thin line when Satan spoke; “When we find them, how much should we tell?” looking directly at Lucifer.

The question made everyone quiet down. All looked at Lucifer, waiting for him.

The demon in question tapped his chin with arms crossed over his chest. “With the witch gone, I don’t think it would be a bad idea to tell the truth.” He spoke slowly, carefully. “Well, of course if they wish to see us.”

“Of course they woulda!” Mammon was quick to oppose. “I-I mean it’s them!”

“As much as I wish to agree with Mammon with that weak excuse, Lucifer is half right.” Satan sighed, shaking his head. “If they managed to hide from us for five years without leaving a trace in their wake, what makes us think they would want to see us.”

“We can explain the situation.” Leviathan bit on his lower lip, looking from one brother to another. “I-I mean, we-we owe them t-that much.”

Pain was visible on everyone’s faces, regret much obvious.

“What if they refuse to meet us before we even get to them?” Beelzebub spoke.

The silence that spread throughout the living room inside the House of Lamentation was deafening.

---

Tending to a rose bush beside your small garden, you were humming to yourself. The sun shone, not a single cloud in vicinity.

“I wonder how tomatoes are growing…” you murmured and walked over to tomato plants, smiling softly when you saw the first fruit. Squatting down, you observed the fruit for a while before you straightened up and walked over to where you had more vegetables planted. “Just a bit more…” you hummed as you walked over to a fence. Leaving the garden, you closed the fence door and walked over to the house.

The house was built just outside the small town where you lived, surrounded by a forest and first neighbour more than hundred meters away. You liked this place more than you thought you would – a place where no one could find you; a place where you could make your own food, baked whatever you wanted to bake and how many times you wanted to—which reminded you …

Eyes wide, you rushed inside the house, hearing an alarm beeping constantly.

“Damn it!” you cursed as you quickly reached for the kitchen towel, opened the oven and sighed in relief, seeing the cookies weren’t burnt too much. Turning off the oven, you took out the baking tray and placed it on the counter. Smiling more to yourself, a sudden chill ran down your spine, making you shudder.

Suddenly a memory came to you; a memory of a certain demon that never left your side. Your eyes grew wide and you took a stumbling step back, supporting yourself on the counter. Your breath hitched and pain spread inside your chest with every breath you took. Shaking your head, another memory resurfaced, this time of another demon, who was eating a lot, but still never had enough. Your eyes welled up. You felt fingers closing around your throat and it took you a moment to realize you were scratching your neck, trying to get rid of the imprints he left behind.

“Get out…” You whispered, eyes shut.

Dark eyes, with a tint of red, stared down at you. You whimpered, trying to make yourself smaller, but the emptiness inside you made it impossible to forget them.

“Si-Simeon…” you whisper-called, looking around. “Simeon…” you called once more, calling the angel’s name like a mantra, a prayer, but no matter how much you tried to, he wasn’t there. Your heart ached, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continued to call for him, for Luke, for Solomon.

They didn’t come.

A knock on your door woke you from past memories. Turning your head towards the door, you frowned. Knowing if it were one of the angels or Solomon, they would apparite beside you like they did every time before. Which meant it must be either your relatives or one of the few neighbours paying you a visit.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you quickly wiped away the tears before you walked on the hallway and opened the door with a smile on your lips.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared. You blinked with your eyes as they grew wider. You were slow to comprehend what was going on, but you knew those faces. You knew those two pairs of purple eyes and behind them the bright brown eyes that stared at you in relief. Yet the moment they saw you, relief morphed into worry and sadness and Beelzebub reached out his hand to you, to hold you only to feel a tingling sensation the moment his hand passed the doorway. He retracted his hand like he was burnt, gaze confused as he stared at it.

“How…how did y-you find me?” you stuttered with a weak voice.

“It doesn’t matter—” Asmodeus began, but you overtook him with a sharp, cold; “Leave.”

You wanted to close the door, but Belphegor stepped forward, his palm slamming on it only to hiss at the pain. Your eyes widened and before he could say anything, you stumbled backwards, falling on the floor. There was fear in your eyes; fear that all three brothers knew too well. They heard your breath hitch in your throat. Asmodeus took a step forward in worry, but stopped when Belphegor raised his hand.

“Something’s wrong.” He said, hissing when he finally pulled his hand back.

“Does it hurt?” Beelzebub reached for the younger’s hand.

Belphegor shook his head. “Just stings a bit.” He answered and turned back your way when a choking sound escaped you. His expression saddened, having a hunch what must have spooked you. “We should call for Simeon or Solomon.”

“Why?” Asmodeus narrowed his eyebrows.

Belphegor stared at the doorway, eyebrows narrowed. He didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t in your nature.

Feeling another presence behind them and a desperate call of your name made Asmodeus and Beelzebub turn just in time they saw a mop of white hair pass them by.

Belphegor’s eyes widened as he was pushed to the side. “Mammon, wait!” he reached out, but Mammon already stepped through the doorway only to fall on his knees. “Mammon!” he called, Beelzebub moving to reach forward, but didn’t hold him in time.

Mammon was holding for his head, hunched over on the floor. You blinked with your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks as you watched Mammon writhing in pain. You covered your mouth as his fingers dug into his scalp. He was grunting with eyes shut, sweat forming on his forehead.

“M-Mammon …” You whisper-called, heart breaking at the sight of him being in pain. Your hands were shaking when you reached out slowly, afraid for any quick movements. He flinched under your touch and moved backwards, feeling like he was burnt. His eyes were wide as he stared at you. You retracted your hand to your chest, sadness overwhelming you. “L…eave…” you choked on your tears.

It took Mammon’s whole power to stumble out of your house. Beelzebub was quick to help him on his feet, Asmodeus checking for any bruise while Mammon and Belphegor never looked away from you. There wasn’t any sadness in Mammon’s eyes and neither was anger, for which you begged to be. You wanted him to be angry at you. No, in Mammon’s eyes was disappointment, his expression full of sorrow as realization seemed to dawn on him.

Belphegor’s gaze on the other hand was expressionless. But knowing him, even if for a short while, you could spot despair that only made you feel worse.

Shutting the door, you leaned a hand on it with eyes shut as you let the tears fall. You didn’t know how they found you, knowing both Solomon and Simeon made sure that every trace behind you disappeared. Then again, a part of you expected it; expected that sooner or later they’d be there.

“I’m so…sorry…” you whispered as you placed your other hand on your chest.

Pain intensified and it took you a moment to realize a pair of hands holding for your shoulders. Your sobs were undoubtedly heard outside where all seven brothers stood. Lucifer and Asmodeus were tending to Mammon while Satan and Belphegor talked. Beelzebub and Leviathan stood beside, glancing from one brother to another in worry while occasionally glancing at your door as well. This wasn’t how they wanted it to go. They didn’t want to see anyone in pain, especially you. And yet there they were, being the very cause once again.

What seemed like eternity was only ten minutes when the door opened, revealing Simeon. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were giving him away.

“How’s Mammon?” He was the first to break the silence.

“’m fine…” he groaned, trying to push Asmodeus’ hand from his arm, but unsuccessfully.

“He’s not as powerful as before.” Lucifer began slowly, eyes focused on the angel. “Simeon,” he called, eyebrows narrowed; “why is there a spell against demons?”

Leviathan’s and Asmodeus’ eyes widened while Belphegor and Satan stilled. All seven brothers were looking at Simeon, who averted his gaze back at the house.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Simeon said instead.

“Simeon.” Lucifer gritted through his teeth.

Simeon turned, his eyes meeting with Lucifer’s, both of their wings displaying as neither backed down. Leviathan took a step back as Mammon stumbled forward, Beelzebub and Asmodeus barely catching him before he could fall on the ground. Satan gritted his teeth while Belphegor remained passive, observing the situation.

“We have the right to know. They have the right to know why we’re here.”

“You should have told me beforehand.” Simeon didn’t back down, gaze turning into glare. “It took them two years to be where they are today. You have no right to come unannounced.”

Lucifer frowned. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “We came to apologize.”

“A little late, don’t you think?” the angel hissed.

“You’ve grown quite overprotective in these five years.” Lucifer snarled, their glares clashing.

“Can you please not fight in front of their house?” A new voice spoke, making all turn to the side.

Asmodeus’ eyes widened. “Solomon!” he called before spotting the other angel beside.

Solomon was shaking his head as Luke glanced from Simeon to Lucifer. “We came as soon as possible when you contacted Luke.” Solomon looked at Simeon, who lowered his head in thanks. “And for your information,” he looked at Lucifer; “that spell is for witches as well, not just demons.”

“You made it?” Lucifer asked.

“All three of us did.” Luke answered. “We couldn’t let them be an open target for any of you.” He huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. He yelped at the glare Lucifer sent him and how the tension only intensified.

“Why don’t you all calm down while I check on [Name] and see if they’re okay to meet with any of you?” Solomon was smiling, but his words were sharp. He exchanged glances with Simeon, who nodded once, before he and Luke disappeared inside the house. They found you sitting on the sofa, the smell of cinnamon reaching their noses and it made them smile. “I see you were baking…” Solomon broke the silence.

You raised your head and smiled softly. “I-I thought I b-burnt them…” you stuttered.

Solomon chuckled and knelt in front of you as Luke cupped your face, looking it over for a bruise or any kind of abuse. All they saw was tear-stained cheeks and red eyes.

“You don’t have to meet them anymore.” Solomon’s voice was quiet. He placed one hand on your knee, making you look at him. “Simeon and I can tell them to leave. We can make your trace disappear again. Just say the word and we’ll do it.”

“They’re strong…” you replied, expression turning sadder.

“You’re forgetting I have pacts with seventy-two demons.” He bopped your nose and you chuckled. “And Simeon is an angel. I believe we can give them a hard time while Luke helps you hide.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes. Leaning forward, you let out a shaky breath. “I’m tired of hiding; tired of always looking behind and being scared of my own shadow. I want to end this once and for all.” You hoped you were ready.

Solomon looked at Luke, whose lips were pursued into a thin line. A silent conversation was exchanged between before Solomon sighed. “Alright…” he murmured and stood up. “Then perhaps this spell could be broken until then, no?” he looked at you.

“I… Yes…” you answered with a small nod and stood from the sofa. “Will you be here?”

“If you wish.”

“Please…”

“Alright,” Solomon nodded. He reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. A small smile spread across your lips. Releasing your hand, he turned to Luke, adding; “I’ll leave and talk with Simeon.” before he disappeared from the house.

You remained in the living room with Luke staring at the door. Both of you could hear voices either interrupting or growing louder. Luke unconsciously held your hand and you gripped it a bit tighter, feeling your own heart wanting to break through. It wasn’t long until voices quieted down that your nervousness grew.

And then you felt it. Felt how the spell disappeared around, leaving you bare of any protection. Luke squeezed your hand tighter and you took in a shaky breath before the doors opened. Solomon walked inside, his eyes immediately finding yours. A silent question was exchanged, if you were alright, and you found yourself nodding your head.

Turning back outside, Solomon opened the doors wider. The first one you spotted was Simeon, who was closely observing the brothers and it made you feel slightly better. Having not only Simeon on your side to protect you, but also Luke and Solomon made you feel calmer. You knew the brothers wouldn’t dare to hurt you without a reason, but there was still that what if that lingered in the back of your mind.

Your gaze fell on Mammon second seeing him being supported by Beelzebub and Asmodeus. Eyes welling, you forced yourself to look away from his blue eyes that felt like boring through your soul. Freeing your hand from Luke’s hold, you wrapped arms around yourself, wanting to distance yourself from everyone.

Sensing your discomfort, Luke was quick to reach for your hand once again, this time refusing to let it go. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the brothers, his eyes focused on their every move. He gripped your hand tighter, a silent; “I’m here,” spoken within the action.

“Let’s…let’s go to the living room…” You were the first to break the silence, tension slightly rising. Without another look or word, you disappeared into the kitchen with Luke beside. Letting out a shaky breath, your knees gave out the moment you leaned on the counter.

Luke’s eyes widened and he was quick to be beside, his gaze filled with worry.

“I-I’m okay…” you whispered with a stutter, but Luke didn’t believe you. “I’m o-okay, just-just overwhelmed…” you forced a smile. You continued before he had time to open his mouth; “Want to help me with drinks?”

“I don’t think they want to drink.” Luke’s gaze hardened, turning into a glare.

With a chuckle, you straightened on your feet and messed his hair. “It’s a courtesy to offer tea or coffee to the guests.” You explained as you reached for a cabinet above where tea and coffee cups were inside.

“But they came unannounced. You only just baked these cookies!” he opposed, pout on his lips.

This time you freely laughed as you put the kettle on the stove. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I have you, Simeon and Solomon beside. I’m not afraid.”

Narrowing his eyebrows, Luke stared at you before he sighed and shook with his head. His pout only grew, yet he helped you nonetheless.

You didn't realize until you put cups in front of each demon that you prepared the beverages they drank whenever you prepared them in Devildom. You felt their eyes focused on you as your hands began to shake, eyes slowly welling up. How could you prepare their favourite beverages after all this time?

Luckily no one spoke of it. Instead, each brother thanked you quietly except for Lucifer, who quietly nodded. You could feel his gaze on your back as you turned before you sat beside Simeon. Simeon smiled at you, his hand reaching for yours and gently squeezed it. The corners of your lips turned up, feeling confident. Facing the brothers, your smile lingered, but slowly disappeared. It was unusual for them to remain quiet, especially Mammon, who was always a bundle of joy that always made you laugh. This time, Mammon blankly stared at the cup, unmoving. Leviathan was meddling with his fingers, while Satan, just like Mammon, stared at the cup in his hands. Asmodeus was pouting, looking defeated and you wondered why. Beelzebub was focusing on Belphegor’s hand instead, examining it while Lucifer stared between you and Simeon.

Sensing the tension, it was Solomon, who first broke the silence; “So how's the exchange program going? It’s been five years since we left.”

“It’s going well.” Lucifer answered, his focus on the sorcerer. “We have more and more exchanges of angels and humans.” He paused, then— “Although I cannot say there are less fights and arguments.” He spared a glance towards Mammon, who flinched and you couldn’t hide the smile that crept on your lips.

He’s still the same. You thought to yourself before you reached for your cup and took a sip of the tea.

There was grumbling, your gaze falling on Beelzebub, whose cheeks turned red in embarrassment as the cup was placed against lips. Half of his face was hidden, but it made your eyes wide when you remembered. Jumping on your feet, you rushed back into the kitchen. Simeon called after you and you heard someone moving, but before Solomon and Mammon, who unconsciously stood up, followed you, you were back. You panted as you placed a bowl of baked cookies on the tea table, eyes meeting with Beelzebub’s wide ones.

“I just baked them.” You stammered out, not looking away.

He was hesitating. He glanced at Belphegor, who was staring at you, and then at Lucifer, who was frowning. Looking back at the bowl, he gulped and reached forward. You unconsciously smiled, assuring him it was alright. With more confidence, he took one and then another. Your smile widened. Next was Asmodeus, who reached forward and took one cookie, followed by Leviathan. Satan shook with his head, but a small smile was present on his lips.

“Why did you break our pact?”

You stilled completely, eyes wide. You gulped and looked at Mammon, who was staring at you with hurt evident in his eyes.

“Mammon!” Lucifer and Leviathan hissed. Satan closed his eyes with a sigh. Beelzebub slowed down his eating, Asmodeus moving in his seat while Belphegor narrowed his eyebrows.

“I just wanna know!” Mammon defended himself, moving further from Leviathan, who was moving his hands.

You spoke before you could stop yourself; “I thought you didn’t want to have a pact anymore.” That brought another wave of silence, all eyes focusing on you. You meddled with the cup in your hand, feeling Simeon’s hand on your back in a gentle caress. It’s okay. Simeon’s here. So are Solomon and Luke. They’ll protect me. “I-I mean, I-I didn’t even k-know I’ll be coming b-back. I waited for y-your messages and-and calls, but nothing … came.” Your eyes and nose burned, itched. “A-and then when I-I got back you all acted so…so distant like I-I’m some lowlife and it hurt.” You choked on the last word.

Beelzebub crumbled the cookie he was holding, gaze hard as he stared at the crumbs on the floor.

“I-I didn’t even k-know what’s w-wrong…” you hiccupped and wiped away the tear that managed to stream down your cheek.

“I’m sorry …” spoke Lucifer. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and it made you look his way. “I …” he hesitated, glancing at Satan, who was nibbling on his lower lip, remaining quiet. He could see how tense everyone was and not just his brothers, but also the angels and Solomon. Their focus was on them, watching every move without any expression to show how they felt. But Lucifer didn’t have to see to know. He could feel the killing intent from Luke with Simeon and Solomon remaining passive.

“We didn’t know what else to do.” He admitted.

You looked confused.

“When you left,” Lucifer continued after taking a sip. You didn’t miss the way Satan’s head snapped his way; “a witch came and threatened us.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, confusion growing. “What does a-a witch ha-have to do with m-me?”

Simeon moved his hand and held yours. You held his back.

Lucifer hesitated, averting his gaze to the side. “She was a descendant of a witch that once hunted Lilith when she was reincarnated as human.”

You flinched at the name of your ancestor when a memory of a police officer telling you of the accident came forth; saying how odd it was for it to lose control. “T-that accident…” you unconsciously gripped Simeon’s hand while with the other the cup you still held. You didn’t mind the heat it emitted. “Officer told me the driver suddenly lost control of the truck…” Mammon and Leviathan froze as Asmodeus glanced at Lucifer in worry. “Did you …” you looked straight at Lucifer.

One look and everything shattered. The cup you were holding was in pieces, tea spilling from your hands onto the floor.

“Leave.”

“[Name]—”

“Leave!” You raised your voice, unable to hide the sadness and anguish you felt. You covered your face, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You could hear them move, footsteps echoing.

“Mammon!”

You tensed when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your eyes widened, unable to focus on anything except Mammon’s shaking body and weak, choking voice as he spoke;

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t-didn’t know. No-none of us did. Not un-til you left, di-disappeared.” He hiccupped and tightened his embrace, almost crushing you, but still not enough to hurt you directly.

Being ripped from his embrace, you stared at the white haired demon, whose tears were streaming down his cheeks. Asmodeus and Satan were holding him, regret visible in their eyes.

“Why…why didn’t y-you tell me?” you stuttered, voice weak. “I-I thought you t-trusted me…”

“We do,” Leviathan knelt in front of you. He tried to caress your cheek, but pulled away, when he saw Simeon’s gaze turn into a glare. “We trust you, we were just…scared.” He lowered his head ashamed. “We didn’t want to hurt you, which we did by how we acted. We tried to come up with something, anything to protect you, but we were empty handed.”

“You’re the strongest demons!” you couldn’t help but exclaim. “How could a simple witch make you do this? Just for a mere human?” You shook your head. “I-I don’t understand this…”

Beelzebub was the next to kneel in front of you, eyes staring directly at you. Your shoulders relaxed and you wanted to reach out and hug him, but managed to hold back. No matter how crestfallen he looked, you couldn’t give in into those sad, teary eyes.

“We wanted to protect you.” He began slowly, speaking clearly. “You’re someone very precious to us and we wanted to solve this without involving you more than you already were. We were too blinded by the anger and of being unable to be there for you to realize how much you were hurting.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks. “Not once did we ever think of breaking our pact with you.”

Turning your head away, you looked at Solomon, who took the cue. “I think it’s best for you to leave.” he stepped forward between you and the demons, quietly adding; “For today.”

Leviathan bit on his lower lip and nudged Beelzebub before they stood on their feet. Neither of them said a word, but Lucifer lingered behind, gaze soft as he spoke; “Contact us;” when you’re ready. The last sentence was left unspoken, but was loud and clear.

You closed your eyes, feeling Luke’s arms around you while both Simeon and Solomon left the house.

“It’s okay…” Luke whispered.

Finally, being alone, you burst into tears, arms unknowingly wrapped around the angel. You were scared; scared for a reason you didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t because they knew where you lived, but because you didn’t want them to leave. You didn’t want to be left alone. Not when they appeared in your life like those five years didn’t pass. Not when it took you so long to move on, only for everything to shatter with one visit.

[supervillain-smut]

submissive cicero submissive cicero submissive cicero submissive cicero submissive cicero submissi- girl p l e a s e

Just a quick warning for anyone not into this, there will be a strap-on used! As always, ask and ye shall receive! Though I believe Cicero’s on the receiving end this time ;)

"Cicero, get on the bed. Take off your hat, gloves and shoes before you do and place them on the nightstand." Cicero gulped in anticipation, both excited and scared of what was to come. He complied, his hat last to be removed. His hands were already shaking; he had made his particular mood known when just as you were preparing for sleep, he began to kiss your neck, rutting his hips against your rear. Cicero had then admitted about being somewhat touch-starved as all you had focused on was what the next contract was.

“Remove your shirt and sit down on the side, facing me.” He immediately began to pull his shirt off with a quick ‘yes, Listener.’, his torso now exposed; it was obvious to a fellow assassin that his time with the night mother left him somewhat out of shape, but not by too much at all. Just a muffin top and abs defined just enough to see the hard work of the past. His upper torso had no casualties, however, due to the recent excessive use of his blade, his biceps were clearly all muscle, and his chest was well-defined, with a moderate amount of hair and a trail all the way down.

You stood in front of him, using your index finger under his chin to lift his head to look at you as you kissed him deeply. He moaned into the kiss, desperately trying not to stand or pull you into his lap as his eyes fluttered shut, just enjoying the affection. You moved from his mouth to his jaw, down his neck and you could feel his breathing quicken as he struggled to not give in to what he wanted. You were going to take your time with him, too fast and you could never reel him back in. He would lose himself in the throws of everything, and your opinion meant little in those times, it was very rare that you intentionally let that happen.

He mewled as you found the sensitive spot on his neck, and you glanced down to see his cock straining against his trousers. You sat in his lap, Cicero groaning in response, attempting to subtly grind himself against you; you allowed him to for a little while before pinning his hips down under your weight, Cicero clearly not liking that too much, but you were the Listener, he would allow anything. Your hands freely roamed his torso, while you played a particular trick; if you started higher up at his shoulders, then ran your hand down to his lower abdomen in one smooth but slow motion, he would get hotter and rut his hips in desperation. And just like clockwork, he did, tilting his head back while his eyes watched you through his lashes, hands gripping the edge of the bed until his knuckles turned white.

You repeated this about three times before he was panting, nearly whining and a plea so close to forming. You could feel him with no trouble at all through his pants, just where you wanted him. You stood in front of him yet again, “Remove your trousers and sit on the very edge. Don’t touch yourself until I say.” Cicero took a moment to process what you said through the fog in his brain, but complied nonetheless as you shed your top along with your bra, and removed your own pants, but keeping you panties on. Cicero’s member sprung from it’s confinements, standing proud and aching for touch. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching you, trying desperately not to pleasure himself as you stood almost completely naked in front of him.

What happened next, he’ll admit, he wasn’t prepared for as you spread his legs apart with your body, then got on your knees, beginning to stroke him. He gasped at the sudden contact and the sight of you, before you spit in your hand and picked up the pace. He moaned and tilted his head back as his eyes closed, just focusing on your touch. He was content to stay like that, if that was all you wished to do, but was startled out of his thoughts as you licked up his shaft. A strangled moan tore itself from his throat, and he was struggling not to beg for more. You saw the conflict in his face, and decided to give him what he wanted, for now as you took him in your mouth, working it along with your hand. “Gods...” Cicero moaned out through clenched teeth; he could feel the coil winding in his lower region, but wanted this to last.

“Listener, it’s... hah.... It’s too much, ah.” You removed your mouth from him, and stood back up, much to Cicero’s exasperation. You had one more order for him as you removed your panties and sifted through a drawer; you were going to make this about him, for once. “Cicero, my darling Keeper” You cooed as you took his face in your hands, placing a quick kiss on his lips, a content sigh coming from Cicero “Get on the floor, on your hands and knees, with your upper half on the bed.” Cicero nodded, complying immediately as you sifted through a drawer, finally finding the object you had used on him only once before, as well as some lube. He sat there in curiosity and slight impatience, his member nearly touching his stomach as it throbbed.

You put the strap-on on, applying a generous amount of lube to it. You ran your hands down Cicero’s back, stopping at his hips. He glanced over his shoulder at you, worry painting his face only for a moment. “Tell me if you don’t want this, okay, Cicero?” He nodded, bracing himself for what you were going to do. “I’m going to go very slowly, okay? Just relax, and let me know what you need, and I’ll take care of it.” Cicero nodded again, and you positioned yourself, letting him feel what it was against his lower back. No protest was heard, and it was obvious he knew by now what you had and were intending to do. You pushed the tip into him, and his hands gripped the sheets as a gasp was heard.

“You okay, Cicero?” “Yes, Listener, just... Give Cicero a couple seconds.” You waited until he began pushing backwards, taking in a little more before pausing. After a little while, you were fully in him, and he began to slowly rock his hips, testing the waters. He groaned, picking up the pace, and you got the hint, beginning to thrust into him. He began to moan, his hands fisting the sheets as you began to thrust at a steady pace; you shifted your hips to get a better hold of his waist, and he cried out. “Oh, Listener, there! More, please!” With a grin on your face, you began to slam into him, and he became deliciously more vocal, moaning and mewling with no holding back.

He could feel the coil winding tighter than ever before, sweat dripping down his face, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. He was about to begin jerking himself, but you evidently had caught on to what he wanted as you pressed yourself against him, burying yourself even deeper and he let out a broken moan as you wrapped your hand around him and began stroking in time with your thrusts, biting into his shoulder as he whimpered. You could tell he was close as Cicero began to buck wildly into your hand, his back pressed firmly against your chest and coming undone by the second.

A couple more thrusts, one last slam from you, and he cried out as he came harder then he can even remember, going stiff with stars in his eyes as you continued to pump him, his cry dying down into a whimper as he shot his seed onto the side of the bed, his stomach and your hand. You remembered from your last encounter with this particular toy what he liked as you swiftly but carefully pulled the toy out from him, another strangled moan tearing from his throat as he bucked his hips, cum dripping from his penis. You got up, removed the strap as you grabbed a warm washcloth, washing your hands quickly in the basin as you cleaned him up, his legs shaking. “Are you alright, Cicero my love?” You asked gently, and he nodded, at a loss for words but satisfied to say the least.

After you were both cleaned up, you helped him into bed, spooning him and playing with his hair, something that always calmed him and put him to sleep in no time, as you kissed along his jaw and shoulder. He fell asleep not too long after, and you sat back, taking in how peaceful he looked, and the sheer amount of trust he had in you. Cicero, when you first started travelling together, wouldn’t let himself sleep and always took night watch. To see how far he’s come was enough for you, and you loved him dearly, as did he.