#only thing is that i won't be there to keep the temperature of the water down

[just-somehuman]

Going away for 3 days and I have to leave Henry alone 😭😭😭 Am gonna miss my son so much </3

[allfearstofallto]

Am soo happy to see your back even if it's just for a short while I hope your doing okey and that everything is good with life and work 😊 i wanted to ask if it was possible how do you think Yan Scara would react if reader got sick ? Would he be worried ? Would he try to tend to them or leave it to the doctors and servants ?

Again thank you so much for taking time for us 💕

My asks are FULL of this exact same question, I'm not joking 😭😭 so I just wrote all of them.

Sick Day

Yandere! x Fem! Reader

Featuring: Diluc, Childe, and Scaramouche

Diluc spent most of his life taking care of himself. Before and after the passing of his father, he was independent to a worrying degree for a young child. So when he got sick, he paid it little mind. He took the proper medicine and if the fever was mild enough, he'd still be sitting at his desk filing his mountains of paperwork. The only indication that he was unwell being the slight rasp of his voice and flush of his cheeks.

But that was because Diluc didn't care much for his own well-being. His body wasn't useful for much other than work, but only he believed that. The day you wake up with a cough and runny nose, mentioning to the head maid that you can't leave the bed because you're so lightheaded, Diluc is in shambles. The second the news makes it to his ears that you're under the weather, he's rushing to your bed chambers, at your side even when you don't want him.

Diluc can't stand the idea of losing you. You can hate him until Teyvat freezes over, it hurts, but at the very least he knows you're well. So the second you fall ill, a part of him feels shame for his inability to protect you, the other feels a visceral fear that you won't be around anymore.

For days you're catered to in bed. Not just by maids, but Diluc too. You're given soft, warm foods and plenty of water. Your temperature is taken three times a day by a doctor, who insists that if you're not awake to eat, you should sleep more to regain your strength. You wondered how much Diluc threatened him to get him to say the same thing over and over.

The day that you're deemed well and cleared to roam the manor freely again, is supposed to be a joyous one for you. As much as you love your room, you were growing sick of the wallpaper and you could only look at the same painting so many times before it frustrated you instead of entertaining. But overbearing Diluc is still around, watching you with worried eyes and begging you to take breaks to rest after every three steps you take.

Ajax is the epitome of an old wife when it comes to health remedies. With all of his siblings, some of which he ended up taking care of as he got older, he picked up a thing or two from the way his mother cared for him when he was sick. Her remedies, while strange to those from other countries, always had him in tiptop shape in a day or two.

It didn't help that you didn't hail from Snezhnaya. Liyue got cold, but even the hottest day in Snezhnaya was colder than the coldest in Liyue. Your body would have to acclimate to your new climate, meaning that even if he tried to keep you warm at night with the fireplace roaring and many blankets, all it would take was a little Snezhnayan air tickling your nostrils to make you wake up with a cold.

Using what his mother taught him and what her mother taught her before, he woke you up from your sleep when he noticed your runny nose and tears in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your forehead to check your temperature, all while your dreary eyes slowly blinked, wordlessly begging for more sleep.

“You'll rest soon, my angel, but I need you to drink this first,” Childe spoke in the softest voice he could muster, so as not to intensify your headache.

He knew something was wrong with you, the way you took the cup from his hands and downed without batting an eye. The little grimace your face made when the vodka hit your tongue was cute, but he tried not to get lost in your features while you were still sick and needy for assistance. His mother did a lot of things when he fell ill, but a shock of vodka was always the first, you were out cold after swallowing it down.

Despite his love for you, Ajax doesn't worry when you're sick. He believes that sickness is just one of the many battles of life and that there's no way you won't succeed in conquering it. Even after you're better, Childe insists that the two of you do some light exercises together. You can complain that it's your first day healthy, but he won't listen. Strengthening your body will keep you from getting sick again.

Even though he's lived for hundreds of years, Scaramouche doesn't quite understand the human body. Improper conditions for a prolonged time will just make you cease to work? And in the most inconvenient way possible as well? It's annoying and far too inconvenient.

Or, that's what he told himself. But when he looks over at you that first morning when you're sick, sweay pooling on your forehead and seemingly unable to breathe, something tugs at his heart. He feels something for you, watching as even in your dreams you're writhing in pain. Scaramouche feels pity. He assumes it's something he can only feel towards you because his heart sings for you.

“What are you doing?” Scaramouche questions a maid who he bumped into in the hallway.

Even though she carried a bowl of water in her hands, she still found a way to bow, “I received news that the Lady has a fever, my lord. A towel soaked in cold water on her forehead will help break it.”

He hummed. He'd heard of such things, but never thought that he himself would see them being used. A sense of urgency took over him when he realized that this would help you though, a need to be the one doing it for you.

“She'll be more comfortable with someone she's familiar with. Let me do it,” he ordered while snatching the bowl from her hands.

She opened her mouth to question him, but he shot her a glare before she could. He marched back to his room promptly, kneeling beside you as you slept. As the maid said, the cool towel did work. You seemed less pained when he placed it on your forehead.

After that moment, Scaramouche insisted he be the one doing everything for you while you were sick. Feeding you ginger soup, changing your blankets, nursing you back health without any assistance. All because he assured everyone that you'd be more comfortable with him doing it, although you rarely even opened your tired eyes the entire time you were getting better, so you had no idea who was cradling you in their arms and insisting you eat more.

When you're better, you're under the assumption that the maids are the ones who helped you, knowing that while you're sick you're practically comatose. But they insist that it wasn't them, saying that Lord Scaramouche himself cared for you and stayed by your side the entire time.

He'll never admit it though, brushing you off by saying something along the lines of, “Why are you saying such stupid things?”

[russellsppttemplates]

Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

[kuro4thegays]

- Steam

[Word count: 3.2k] [Dr. Ratio x male!reader] [Content: nsfw, top Veritas, bottom reader, hot spring date, just the slightest bit of angst, misunderstandings, reader may be depressed, but also a bit silly at times, massages, anal fingering, lots of steam, spanking, orgasm denial, anal, love bites]

“Why do you cover yourself even when no one is watching?” The words echoed inside your mind, bubbling up like their only purpose was tormenting you. You wrapped that soft towel around your body like a shield, all while setting your feet down into the steamy water.

You sighed, rubbing your cold shoulders. The towel was the only thing keeping your upper body somewhat of a regular temperature. You looked down into your own reflection, silently judging the face that greeted you in the water. Well, greet wasn't a very precise term. Your reflection only mimicked the same judgmental look you gave it, yet there was something in the back of your head that forced you to keep looking. Hatred always had its way with you.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I hope you didn't get too bored without me.” That warm, familiar voice stole your attention like it meant nothing. You raised your gaze back to reality. There he was, Veritas Ratio, the man that striped your heart right out of your chest and now just won't give it back.

“It’s really no issue.” You averted your gaze, seeing the doctor in general made your heart race, but God, you don’t think you can handle looking at his bare figure, only slightly concealed by that towel he wore around his waist. “I can wait. It's really fine.” Perhaps there was something more you wanted to say, yet ultimately chose silence. 

"No, no it's my fault. I don't want such a brilliant mind to waste its time just on waiting." Veritas joined you on the edge of the hot spring. Was he just trying to fluster you with those words? Regardless, you returned your sights back onto the water's surface. Too bad that even there he couldn't avoid his face.

"Shall we? You must feel cold by now." His hand found its way to that small exposed bit of your back, causing you to immediately straighten your posture. One can imagine that while enveloped within the cold breeze Veritas' touch would feel twice as hot.

"Mm... Yeah." You answered, finally taking a chance to gaze into the doctor's eyes. "I think I'm ready.”

Veritas unwrapped the towel from your body, exposing your figure to the warm waters. Just like that, he nodded and gave you an encouraging push, not enough for you to fall into the water, but enough to lead you into its inviting warmth. Finally, coaxed by Veritas' gentle touch, you pushed yourself off the edge and into the hot spring.

“Ah, feels nice, doesn’t it?” The professor sighed, stretching his muscular back before leaning back onto the rocky surface behind him. Almost like inviting you over, he tapped the spot next to himself.”It’s not bad.” Upon request you joined him, leaning down until the water reached your neck.

“Are you feeling okay? You seemed kind of out of it just a moment ago.” He dared to bring up the difficult questions, gently rubbing your waist under the water.”Do you wish to talk about it…or maybe something more physical is what you need?” He affectionately nuzzled  your neck, the warmth of his being rivaling that of the hot spring itself. How could he caress you so lovingly, you couldn’t help but wonder. Almost like on instinct you leaned back into the warm touch, craving it more with each passing moment. You were ready for it to be taken away at any second.

“Yes, please.” The words came out more desperately than you had planned them to. Uncertain would be a fitting description.

“Would a massage suffice?” Veritas’ hands slid all the way from your waist up to your shoulders, guiding you to the edge where you could lean for support. “Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this if you had listened to me when I told you to take a break.” But it wouldn’t be Veritas if his tender touches weren’t mixed with a heavy dose of scolding. “But you just had to continue on with your stubborn ways.”

“You just love being correct, don’t you?” Without thinking you spouted your retort. Your shoulders tensed only slightly, yet that alone told Veritas enough.

“Oh, believe me. In this case I really wish I wasn’t.” He trapped your smaller frame against the cool edge of the lake using his larger body, making it so that you weren’t able to escape the situation like you had many times before.”You-” “I’m not done talking.” Veritas shushed you with ease. Now the only thing separating you was the water's gentle embrace. “Are you aware of how much energy I spend just thinking and worrying about you? How many nights I have spent awake because of your idiocy?” He didn’t let go even when you tried to avert your gaze, no, he got even closer. “You can’t even imagine how much it hurts when you do these stupid things to yourself. And can’t you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?”

Veritas’ voice finally did something to earn your attention back, even if only for a moment. Your eyes looked into his for maybe a millisecond before the doctor tried to get closer, causing you to ultimately close them shut yet again. Only then did it hit Veritas in the head how he must have sounded like. “Hey, [name], I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just feel like…” The genius was so quickly reduced to a stuttering mess at the sight of his love in fear. Words managed to fail him like they never did, so he shut his mouth and tried a different approach.

“Veritas-” You gasped upon contact, pulled down into the water’s warmth until not even your shoulders were exposed to the cool breeze. Veritas held you tight, his grip not lacking in either strength nor warmth, firm and affectionate it was. He was not letting go, not now, not ever.

“Veritas… I’m fine.” You whispered, yet your trembling voice didn’t do much to ease the doctor’s worries. “I just..  I don’t know what is it with me today.” You hugged back, well, closer to clung back to the larger male’s form. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be. It was me that got carried away.” He reassured, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Such an emotional moment it was, shame that it had to end so clumsily. Your feet eventually tangled together, sending you down face first into the water. Veritas wasn’t happy with this, there was no world where he would have been happy with this, yet at the moment he couldn’t stop laughing. His poor lungs were probably desperate for air.

Eventually, Veritas pulled both of you out, that wide uncharacteristic grin still shamelessly gracing his face. He ran his hand through his wet hair, pulling his bangs back. You could only stare. You had almost forgotten all the dark thoughts that plagued you earlier. That was just what Veritas did to you. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Veritas' grin morphed into a proud smile. Perhaps you did something to him too. “You said you didn’t want to get your hair wet.” You chuckled, eyes not leaving the larger male’s for even a moment. You traced your hand along Veritas’ forearms, fingertips only gently caressing his form. “You mentioned that massage, didn’t you?”

Veritas tensed up a bit, back straightening before taking up the challenge. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t hold up to my word?” He scoffed even just at the thought. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything.” You teased back, that shine in your eyes returned like it never went missing in the first place. The terminal waters were only further raising the tension between the two. Light steam oozed from the pool of the water before sensually dancing in the air around them.

“Come here.” Veritas gently pushed you against the edge of the spring, his chest making contact with your naked back “Relax now, love. I got you.” His hot, steamy breath could be felt all the way down your exposed, vulnerable neck. He striped you bare of all control, yet also of all your stresses. Your body melted into the doctor’s first touch, the soft kneading motion of his hands causing a sensation comparable to heaven itself. It started with only your shoulders, the muscle fully giving into the affectionate motions. Your lower back was not neglected either. 

“Can you feel that? Doesn’t it feel nice to let me take care of you for once?” His hands found that one particular knot that has been causing you trouble without you even knowing it, at least that would explain the uncharacteristic, explicit moan that left your choked throat. You arched your back, perhaps on impulse. That said, Veritas did not miss the chance to feel you up. “It’s nice.” The words escaped your lips. You leaned into the touch, the doctor’s hand expertly maneuvering your body like it was made all for him. You, of course, didn’t mind this at all, other than the quite distracting heat rising in his lower stomach. “I want more of you.” Your words were immediately answered with a pinch on the nipple. You gasped, the sensitive pink buds hardening after only a few squeezes. Instead of relaxation, Veritas’ massage only induced the opposite, excitement.

“I know, darling, I know.” Just like he could give pleasure, he could also take it away. He let go of your perky, pink nipples, returning his hands to your back. “But I need you to relax if you want more.” His feathery touch moved down to your soft cheeks, massaging the fat of your ass. Your breath hitched, you knew where this was going and your patience was running low. “Veritas…” You whined, but only received a slap to the ass. “Patience breeds success.” Veritas spoke his usual wisdom, though something told him that maybe it might have been uncalled for. But you bit your tongue. You pushed your rear into Veritas’ hand, hoping that the action will inflict impatience on him too.

It seemed to have worked. You felt that familiar hardness brushing against your soft ass, touching you so teasingly, making you lose your mind. Though, you were shortly rewarded. Out of nowhere, you felt a singular finger stab through your pucker hole, eliciting just the softest moan to slip out of your precious lips. You gripped onto the lake’s moist edge for much needed aid. “Just one finger in and you completely fall apart. My, I wonder how much could you really take?” He emphasized the words with a hit to the prostate, feeling the fleshy walls almost immediately clenching around his digits. It didn’t take long before the second one joined into the mix, the needy moan that spilled from your lips just a moment ago now mutating into a loud whine. “Please Veritas. It’s not enough.” You cried out, feeling as if that sweet spot deep inside you was being set ablaze.

“Say it again and I might consider it.” He dared to make such an order. If the scenario was any different you would have scoffed, yet horniness has its way with making all shame dissipate. “Please.” 

Veritas had enough mercy to make that ‘maybe’ into a definite ‘yes’. The third finger slid in just as easily as the first two, stretching you open with no resistance other than the periodic clenching. “Is this how you like it? Or was it something else you were begging for?” Veritas asked, but only received an absentminded, but nothing short of enthusiastic nod. That was enough for him to understand his love’s wishes. 

“Fine, I think you deserve it.” His fingers left a vacant hole inside you, but reassurance came when you felt the throbbing member sliding between your cheeks. “You can take it, I’m sure of it.” You could only gulp nervously at the doctor’s words, feeling your own burning saliva sliding down your dry throat. The open mouth kiss Veritas left on your neck sent you over the edge. You aligned yourself with Veritas’ pulsing erection, your body practically begging for penetration. And your love gave in.

Veritas stabbed into your tight ass, penetrating the petite entrance inch by inch before bottoming out completely. “God, you’re so fucking tight.” You could feel the rhythmic throbbing of his dick, your nice butt swallowing each pulse of his erection. Veritas started out slowly, dragging his dick out before slamming right back in with force. His dick felt like it was burning inside your heat. In this state of mind and body your neck felt like the tastiest treat. He started out with only gentle kisses, following with the kisses that would leave lasting bruises before finally biting fully down and piercing the thin layer of skin, provoking a choked scream to break the otherwise peaceful night. 

His thrust only got faster, even if little by little. The choked scream was only built upon by much meeker whimpers uncontrollably seeping out of your needlessly addictive lips. Your nipples weren’t forgotten either. Just a single pinch and your voice rose in pitch. Veritas flickered his thumb over the hardening button, leaving it even more sensitive. “Ah.. hah.. Too- Too much.” You babbled.

“Too much? Already?” Veritas raised a singular eyebrow. “Come on, you know there is even more to come, right? I haven’t even started with you.” Just as promised, Veritas’ pace accelerated, causing the once tranquil water to now violently splash against the many rocks that built the lake. His kisses were wet, needy and absolutely devouring, attacking just the sweetest flesh of your neck. And the lewd sounds coming from your hoarse throat served as only further motivation. Though he still had some of that gentleman left in him, enough that he would never let you poor leaking cock neglected. He squeezed your shaft, perhaps too roughly at first, before starting to pump at an almost equal pace to his thrust. Considering this, the arch of your back that followed should have been expected. You pushed your ass into him while your front was still clawing at the lake's solid border. Drool slid down your chin, the absolute disheveled state you were in causing the other male's rock hard dick to twitch.

“You like that, don't you?” Suddenly, he stopped. His large hands moved up from your waist, running up your side before settling on your chest. “You like it when I grope you like this. You like it when I worship your body.” You could feel his hot breath crawling down your spine, starting from your flushed, red ears all the way down. “Admit it. Say it out loud.” His words could barely count as whispers. 

You gulped. It wasn’t that you couldn’t admit it, it was just that you couldn’t catch your breath. “Mmm…” You mumbled, but the way Veritas grabbed your chin told you that he wasn’t quite pleased. “Use your words.” He turned your head to get a better look, watching your oh so perfectly fucked out face. “Y-Yes-” A slap to the ass was the only thing you received, but the stinging pain already told you everything. “I… I like the way you touch my body. Please, do it again.” You said, but his silent gaze didn’t do much to reassure you. Lucky, you got that reassurance in other ways. He pulled you into a hot, deep kiss, his tongue breaching the barrier of your lips and getting right to that tasty spot that made kissing you so addictive. 

He dropped that cold mask and moaned into your mouth, the shameful sound something he would never in any scenario let anyone hear, but you proved to be quite the exception for him in most things in life. You could melt just in the kiss itself, but oh when you felt his dick move inside you again, you could have dropped to your knees right then and there. He began moving his hips again, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden deep inside your passage repeatedly until all the thrusts merged together. He caught up to the previous pace, hungry hands reaching for your erect member with a carnal need before beginning to pump in the same rhythm with each strike. 

“Fuck…” The words got lost in the kiss. “You feel so good.” His nails dug into your hips, the slight surge of pain nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure. “I… I think that- ngh, I’m close.” Veritas lost control of his own hips, sloppy, but fast, thrust setting fire ablaze inside you. The act itself would have heated up your body on its own, but combined with the hot spring’s steamy water sweat was sure to stick to your body like a second skin. “Veritas, I can’t… hold it in.” You whined and, finally, after just a few pumps you screamed out his name, your whole body spasming as your cute cock sent its filthy, sinful load into the pure, clean thermal water, staining what some would refer to as holy sight. And with how tightly you clenched around the man it was only natural that he would follow. Veritas’ deep groan, hoarse from pleasure, echoed through the silent night as he practically erupted inside your tight little hole, feeling how its walls squeezed every single bit of cum out of him. Your bodies molded together for only a brief moment, but even in such a short time your pleasure felt like his and his felt like yours. 

But eventually, you both fell from the shared high, bodies sore from all the action. But even the painful soreness was something Veritas wanted to share with you. The doctor’s tight grip relaxed, leaving red spots where he once held you in place like a hungry animal, though what came after felt equally loving. He nuzzled your abused neck, the poor thing left bruised, before inhaling your scent, not the one of your cologne, but the one your sweaty body oozed with on its own accord. He moaned, probably for the last time tonight, at the feeling of his now softening dick snugly hidden within your passage, he could stay like this forever.

“Such sounds don’t suit you, doctor.” You teased, leaning back into the safe embrace. “That’s because they were only meant for you.” In a somewhat strange moment of vulnerability, he kissed your earlobes, whispering such sweet words that you couldn’t believe it was him.

“Really?” You asked, trying to sound ever so sarcastic in an attempt to hide the fluttering feeling that raged inside your heart. “Then I think it’s better if this stayed just between the two of us.” He was quick to nod at your proposal, not even sparing a moment. “I think so too.”

You looked back down at your own hand, noticing your smooth skin morphing into wet wrinkles. “Maybe we should go dry ourselves before we get all wrinkly.”

“Just give me a few more minutes. I want the moment to soak in.” Reason told him otherwise, but his mind has already fallen into the love’s trap. The roles were now reversed and you couldn’t help yourself from commenting. “Such foolish words, I expected better from someone of your capabilities.” Though another, more annoyed, slap to the tush was enough to make you reconsider your words.

[Writer’s note: it's been a while, hasn't it? I started writing physically recently. Spend a notebook in like two weeks. This was supposed to be finished earlier. Oh well... As you might have seen in my answers life has not been so good to me lately. Thankfully, this tough patch might be ending soon. I just have to survive another month and I'm done. Perhaps I'll be posting more then.]

[bookshelfdreams]

I think, for every one of us, there is a popular post that we hate A Lot, because it is either factually wrong or reductive, and while this isn't the post I hate The Most, it still irks me.

So, here's how to care for natural fibres:

Wool: Does not like to be washed, but that doesn't mean it can't get wet. What is problematic is the agitation in combination with heat and soap - that leads to felting. Wool garments do not go in the washing machine (unless they're superwash treated, but even then, I would skip the spin cycle) or dryer. However! Wool makes up for that by being antibacterial and repelling dirt. A wool garment will not smell, as long as you treat it right (ie air it out, do not stuff it into storage damp, etc). It will not need to be washed often. If you do wash it, soak with wool detergent, gently squeeze, dry lying flat (if you wring it or hang it up, it will stretch out).

Silk: DO NOT PUT IT IN THE DRYER WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU. Some silks can be gently(!!!!!!) washed in the washing machine, no spin cycle, dry lying flat. Washing can compromise the structural integrity of both the fabric and garment; something stiff, that needs to keep its shape (for example, jackets or dresses, dupion) goes to the dry cleaner. It is true that flowy, light silks, such as habotai, can generally withstand the washing machine - but it will make the fabric age faster. Wear underwear to protect your garment from sweat, and you won't have to wash it as often.

Cotton: We all know how to care for cotton. Moving along. (I will say one thing, cotton is the only one of these fibres that really does stink, and needs to be washed the most.)

Linen: Will not care about temperature shocks or mechanical stress, that much is true. However. Linen does not like dry heat at all, if you want your linens to last a long time, do not put them in the dryer. Do not iron them dry either, always use either steam or spray them with water (ideally, both). Linen also doesn't take colour as well as cotton and bleaches easily, so turn your colourful linens inside out, wash them on low temperature, and don't dry them in direct sunlight.

In general, tumble drying significantly shortens the lifespan of any garment, even cotton. As does fabric softener (and its general usefulness is questionable, to say the least). Avoid both as much as possible.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.2 K Warnings: PG-13 smut, basically it get's steamy Prompt: Whatever could possibly happen when the three of you find yourselves in the prefect's bathroom? Alone and unsupervised? Surely it would be nothing scandalous. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not Proofread

Chapter 63: Something About You

When Sirius burst out of the water you were still standing there with your wand held in between your teeth, although it was harder to keep it in place since you couldn’t stop your laughter. 

“You traitor!” He said as he stood up and threw an accusing finger at you. 

“But I did nothing,” you said with a small shrug after taking the wand out of your mouth. 

“Did you even need your wand?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a smile and waved it towards the faucet, a jet of blue water jumped from one of the taps and straight towards his face (it was the cold water stream rather than the hot, you made sure). 

There was a mix of amusement and irritation on his face as you did. “How dare you? you little Vixen!” he said as he jumped your way, but you sank into the water and swam behind Remus in an instant. By the time you resurfaced, the crown of your head was filled with bubbles and Sirius was looking for you by moving his hands over the foam on the other side. Your hair was still a little stiff from the mud, but the warm water was dissolving it rather fast.

“What? Is it only fun when it’s you the one throwing people into the water?” 

“Naturally,” Sirius retorted. 

Remus let out an amused scoff, and you leaned on his shoulder as you looked at Sirius with a pout he wouldn’t call anything but adorable. 

“But it wasn’t even me the one that pulled you in,” you added with a small smile. 

“But you compelled Moony to do so,” He said as he leaned his head back on the side of the massive tub. 

“Compelled?” you said, savouring each syllable of the word. “Perhaps I did…” 

“See, it’s like premeditated murdеr, but you premeditated throwing me into the water.” 

“Would that make Remus my accomplice?” 

“When hasn’t Remus been your accomplice?!” 

“Touché.” 

Sirius gave you a knowing smirk and then swam towards one of the windows and pressed his hair under the water taps, letting the water rinse the mud that was still all over his hair as he gently brushed strands with his fingers. 

You smiled as you looked at him and decided to do the same, swimming closer to him and leaning your head under the one with red water, which was just the right temperature for melting the mud without scorching you. Remus veered closer to the two of you, but since he didn’t have nearly as much mud on himself, he just leaned his head back and washed it on the water. 

“Is it gone?” Sirius asked Remus as he turned around. 

“Ugh, almost…” Remus said as he leaned a little closer. He was a bit hesitant when he approached Sirius. They had always been close, even physically close, but not necessarily intimate. And it’s not that touching Sirius’ head would be overly intimate, but it was something you did all the time, and back when they were younger, Sirius was very picky about whom he allowed to touch his hair, especially since some girls insisted on playing with it while complaining about his being so much silkier than their own. “There’s still some in the middle you can’t see.” 

“Help me?” Sirius asked as if it were the most natural thing ever. It made Remus feel much more at ease. 

“You don’t mind?” Remus asked as he approached him, his touch was slow, and he was insanely careful as he combed his fingers through the other boy’s hair. The water was soapy, and it made his hands glide even easier than he pictured it would be. Sirius’ hair had always looked stupidly soft, but it felt softer, nicer even, than his imagination. 

“Why would I?” Sirius asked as he allowed his head to lean back, he side-eyed you, raising an  eyebrow and shooting a short wink as you continued to rub the mud of your hair. He was obviously boasting about Remus playing with his hair instead of yours. You didn’t mind it at all, seeing them be so domestic around the other was heartwarming and other things… 

Remus shrugged, “Cause I’m a man.” 

“And? Tu es mon amoureux.” 

Remus tried not to roll his eyes at the choice of words. He knew amoureux was lover now. “Yeah but, you just discovered you’re into men…” 

Sirius smirked. “I rather think I’m into werewolves and faeries,” he said as he turned to look at Remus teasingly. 

Remus pulled one of the strands of hair from his head to get him back into facing forward, firstly because he was a tease and he deserved it. Secondly, because he didn’t want Sirius to see the blush creeping up his neck. You saw it though. 

“Oi! You’re savage!” 

“Happens to you for being in love with werewolves and faeries,” you said with a smirk. 

“What I’m trying to say is–” Remus said as he methodically brushed his fingers on Sirius scalp, keeping his hands busy grounded him. “It’s sometimes harder for men when they’re just discovering they’re into other men to accept small touches and things.” 

Sirius frowned, turning around to look at Remus. You understood exactly what Remus meant. Discovering queerness wasn’t exactly easy for some people. And it was often weird to allow someone of the same gender to do things you’d only ever learned where possible for a different one. But for Sirius, there didn’t seem to be a difference. 

“You think I wouldn’t allow you to touch me the way Vixen would just because of what’s in between your legs, is that it?” 

Remus swallowed and nodded, Sirius being so close still spiked his nerves, even if they’d kissed already. 

“Well men–”  

“But you aren’t just any man. You’re Moony,” he retorted. “Our Moony. I don’t care if you touch my hair, or if you hold my hand, or…” he hesitated, looking down towards Remus’ lips before biting his own, “Or if you kiss my lips.” 

Remus seemed at a loss for words. In fact, you would have ventured to say he had stopped breathing altogether. He had. It had never been so easy to be with a man before, so natural. The way Sirius saw things made him feel so at ease it was borderline ridiculous, especially compared to how much harder it had been for him to understand and make peace with his own sexualiuty.

You’d stopped brushing your hair altogether, the conversation ahead being much more relevant than whatever mud was still clinging to your strands. If there was someone else, perhaps you would have made a bet, to see who leaned into the other person first. You would have lost it.

It was Moony the one that closed the gap. Placing his hands on the nape of Sirius’ neck and bringing his lips towards his mouth. There was something irrefutably tender about that kiss, that you were smiling like a fool as you looked at them both. 

“Say that again,” Moony breathed into Sirius’ lip. 

“What?” Sirius teased shortly after. 

“OUR MOONY,” You said with a smile, eyes shinning at the scene ahead of you.  

“Ah, that?” Sirius teased again. “You like that?” 

“Sirius,” Remus said. There was something incredibly thrilling about the way Remus said his name, he was amazed he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Our Moony,” he repeated and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek. “Our” –kiss–  “Beautiful” –kiss– “Moony.”  

You leaned towards them both in an instant, standing just behind Remus and leaning into him like you had done earlier, this time placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “You’re hogging him,” you said with a playful pout. “It’s OUR Moony,” you said as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to his lips. “Not just your Moony.” 

Remus thought he would explode. Having both so close to him already had that effect; but having you all over him, (like when you were drunk and high on a potion at the Halloween party)  but this time with nothing other than adrenaline running through your bIood, was absolutly mind-numbing. Madenning in a way he couldn’t quite describe. Most people run from madness, but he was ready to be drowned by it. If only to have you close a little longer –or forever.  

“I think we’ve kissed him dumb,” you teased.

“Étoile, we can do much better than this,” he tutted. 

Your smile grew wider at his words. It didn’t matter if it was a challenge or an invitation, you were more than ready to comply. 

“I think he’s tense, though,” you said with a smile and moved your hands closer to his shoulders, gently rubbing your thumbs in circles near his spine, “Is that all right, Rem?”

He gave you a simple “Are you kidding” sort of look and you pressed your fingers with a little more purpose, his eyes fluttered closed as his head leaned back into you. You smiled, but of course, Sirius wasn’t going to have any of it. 

“Na-ah,” he said as he shook his head and pulled Moony’s back up, “You have to look at us, where’s the fun in closing your eyes?” he said as he leaned in to kiss Moony again, even if both of their eyes fluttered shut the minute their lips crashed. 

You smiled, leaning even closer to Rem as you pressed a kiss to his neck. The poor boy had carried such a heavy weight on his shoulders for so many months, you were surprised his back hadn’t hunched even in the slightest. He was as pretty as he’d been the day you met him. Or perhaps not, back then you had only seen his physical beauty, but know that you knew him? That you knew almost everything about him? Every little secret those scars hid, and every little secret those lips had swallowed, he was beyond just pretty, he was gorgeous.

You wondered how it was possible that you’d taken so long to realise just how in love you were with him, how it was possible that you had been so blinded by Sirius that you had completely forgone your own feelings and made both of them miserable in return.

But that didn’t matter, it had been 3 terrible days, torturous days, but you had the rest of your life to make it up to them. And you would, you would every single time you kissed them and every single time you touched them because they deserved the entire world. Or perhaps the world wasn’t enough, they deserved the entire universe. Every single galaxy, black hole and star, every cluster of stars, and every single constellation. 

You had often thought books that mentioned things like that as overly sappy or chliché. But you understood that cheesiness now, that feeling of wanting the other person to be the happiest, to smile the brightest and to laugh the merriest, you understood; whenever you were with them. 

Remus was giving in, allowing you and Sirius to do as you pleased with him, to indulge him however it was you wanted, but he wasn’t losing control, not entirely. He wouldn’t want to, not when he could kiss Sirius back, in the same way he’d dreamed of so often. He’d thought his imagination was wonderful, but it was nothing compared to this. To your lips on his neck and Sirius devouring his own. 

And Sirius? 

Sirius, who thought he was asking too much of the world. Sirius, who thought he was selfish for falling in love with his two best friends, even if he couldn’t help himself, even when you were the most wonderful people he had ever met. Sirius who thought he’d fucked up, who thought he’d ruined things for eveyone, who thought he deserved hell for daring to break your heart… He was now kissing Remus, and you were watching and you were loving it, if the lustful expression on your face was anything to go by. 

He’d moved one of his hands to the back of your neck, and he was gently playing with the hair at the nape of it. He knew you loved it when he put his hands anywhere near it, and he wanted you to feel just as loved as you were making Remus feel, and as he felt at that moment. 

Suddenly, a need urge came over Sirius. He wanted to feel more, he needed to feel more. More of the water, more of Remus, more of you. He pulled apart only for a second, he was panting and he was flushed, but he was determined. “Do you mind it if we…” he trailed off, not daring to say the words but making clear what he wanted by placing his hand on the hem of Remus’s jumper. 

You had both seen Remus shirtless, but you had never seen him from such proximity, and while he wanted to feel you, skin to skin, he was also terrified of his body and your reaction to it. How his scars would feel different to Sirius milk like sin, or to the supple feminity of yours. He was mortified at the idea of either of you getting close enough to touching him and being repulsed by what you felt. It was so easy to let those thoughts consume him, but it was easier for your voice to pull him out of that hole.

“You are beautiful, Remus,” you said softly and pressed a kiss. “Stunning in your own way, we like every bit of you, we want to feel every bit of you. If you’ll let us…” 

You weren’t using charm speak, but you might as well have been. The same, floating-like sensation came over him. The same desperate want to indulge you, to make you happy, to give you anything you wanted. But this time around he wanted it to. Merlin, how much did he crave for it! 

“Please do,” he said with a short nod towards Sirius. The smile he got in return was devilishly handsome, and he was pulled back into a kiss as both of you searched for his jumper. The last time either one of you had taken his clothes off had been when he was about to turn into Moony.  When he was consumed by pain and sorrow, and terrified he might do something to hurt either one of you (like he was every moon). When he was so worried Moony would come out sooner than expected and destroy the things he loved the most. He hadn’t ever had time to relish in the feeling. 

On the feeling of your hands searching for the bottom hem of his jumper from behind, while Sirius did the same in the front. The rush of adrenaline that flowed through his veins, his heart beating so loud that he felt it was about to blow up. The way your delicate fingers brushed all over his back, how you were gentle and kind as your hands moved over his back ribs –since you knew they were always sore after the full moon and it hadn’t been that long since. 

How Sirius’ hands were much more rushed than yours, and how he seemed a lot more desperate as he kissed him and tried to get the damn jumper past his arms. How you laughed and the echo of your voice crashed against the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. How much he loved that you were laughing as he kissed Sirius. How delightful it was that no matter how worried you might have been initially, no matter how much you’d had to go through, you were finally together.

Yeah, you had undressed Remus before, but it hadn’t been nearly as exhilarating as it was now. As soon as the two of you managed to cross the jumper over his head, it was discarded somewhere near the edge of the pool, and Sirius went straight for his box plate, desperate of him, desperate for him. 

It was too hard for you to help him with those since you were behind, but the minute he managed to get the first two buttons you were already clawing at the shirt to slide as much of it off him as possible. It wasn’t much since Sirius was struggling with the buttons in the front, but it was enough for you to be able to move your mouth from his neck to just above his collarbone. When Sirius finally managed to get the button off, you were already pulling both of his arms out of it, but the last button was still there, and the shirt got caught in his way. 

“Somebody’s eager,” Sirius teased while looking at you. “Is it Moony’s broad shoulders you’re so desperate about, Étoile?” 

“Look who’s talking,” you retorted after an amused scoff.

He gave you a short wink in return, and when he finally managed to remove the button he went straight into kissing Remus. You went back to kissing his shoulders and gently pulled on the shirt that was stuck in between the two before letting it be discarded somewhere on the floor of the steamy pool. 

Now it was Sirius’ turn to remove some of his clothes. He had at least been able to take both his robes and his sweater before Remus pulled him into the pool, so he focused on his buttons instead. When Remus noticed his hands were on his in an instant, unbuttoning Sirius’ shirt with much more precision –he’d had more practice. But he was gentle as he did, gently brushing his fingers over Sirius’ torso when new bits of skin appeared. He even pulled back from the kiss to look, curious as to how his hands looked next to Sirius’ soft flesh, he was almost paralysed by the sight. 

You smiled when you noticed, gently tracing a path from his bicep to his hand, you allowed your thumb to glide over his knuckles and leaned your head on his shoulders as you stared ahead. Then you moved again, you felt how your cheeks brushed against his sharp jawline until you reached his ear. Sirius was looking at the two of you with pupils almost as black as his last name. 

“He looks stunning, doesn’t he?” you whispered as you helped him move his hands again, gently guiding them onto the next button. “Those flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips…” 

Sirius swallowed at your words, his heart hammering in his ears. He’d always known he was handsome, he’d been told about it plenty of times and he usually boasted about his beauty, but it wasn’t the same thing to be told he was beautiful by adults in his ridiculous family and girls who’d lose their witts just thinking about the Black heir (at least before he was disowned), than it was to be told he was beautiful by the two most incredible people on the planet. 

Being perceived as beautiful had never been as exhilarating as it was when it was your eyes that were perceiving him as such. When it was yours and Remus’ equally lustful gazes focused on him. 

“You did that,” you added, just knowing that would do something to Remus. To the always controlled Remus, to the Remus who couldn’t allow himself to lose control because he thought it was too dangerous, because he was always terrified Moony would take over –even if it wasn’t full Moon. You felt him shiver, and you continued to help him with the buttons, not leaving your hands from his. “It was your lips that left him like that, Moons. Your kisses and your touches.” His breath hitched in his throat, and you pressed the softest kiss to his cheek. 

By then you’d already unbuttoned Sirius’ shirt completely, and you moved your hand towards his cheek, he leaned into your touch almost instantly, instinctively even. He often did that, whenever you were close to him he would lean into you, you wondered how it was possible that you hadn’t realized that he’d done the same to Remus; to a lesser extent at least.

And then you leaned even closer and whispered something Sirius wasn’t quite able to hear, but he saw the way Remus’ eyes shone at your words, and he smiled in his own cocky manner as Remus leaned onto him again, this time with much more determination. It was Remus the one to pull the shirt off of Sirius as he kissed him with much more desperation now, losing himself in the kiss, but taking control at the same time. His chest was against Sirius’ and he could feel the soapy water in between the two of them, a film so delicate that it broke whenever skin rubbed against skin, whenever his scars crashed against Sirius’ soft and smooth flesh and whenever his hands ran through his toned arms. Never in his wildest dreams had it felt that incredible. 

Sirius moaned into the kiss when he felt something hard against his tight, he’d never felt someone else’s boner against him, but he wasn’t scared, he was thrilled and curious and he wanted to know more about Moony, he wanted to know everything about Moony. How he sounded when he moaned his name, when he moaned yours; how he sounded when he touched himself. He wondered if his sounds would be as thrilling as yours, as maddening as your little whimpers and mewls. 

Sirius grunted when he felt Remus tight press a little harder against himself but tried to draw it out with the kiss. Your gentle hands moving all over the front of his torso as they were sandwiched between him and Sirius not doing much to calm him either, not when they were so close to his lower abdomen and not when they seemed to do nothing but continue going down as you pressed kisses all over his starved skin. 

Not even when he was sleeping with Alice did he ever allow her to touch his scars, to kiss his neck or to rub her hands through his skin like you were doing now. He’d snapped at both boys and girls for even trying to take his jumper off in fear of any of them discovering his secret, or much worse, having them be disgusted by what lay underneath. 

And then there was you. 

Both of you had seen him shirtless, if anything those longer glances –he realized now– were there because of curiosity and attraction, both of you had touched him countless times, he’d felt your hands in his, and Sirius’ light pats on his back, and you had both called him beautiful. Even under veristaserum, which might have been one of the stupidest things he’d made you do but, it had been ridiculously reassuring back then.

Sirius leaned even closer when he heard that grunt and placed his palm on his chest, and Moony’s mouth almost acted on its own. His teeth gently closed around Sirius’ soft bottom lip. Sirius moaned and gasped at the same time. Pulling apart for a second and throwing you a look. “Did you coerce him into biting me, Starshine?”

“I might have suggested you like it when someone takes control,” you retorted with an innocent shrug, gaze still focused on Remus’ neck. Then you turned to him, slightly more worried. “Was it too much?” you asked, almost unsure of yourself. What if it was different because you were a girl and Moony was a boy? 

Sirius’ lip was slightly more swollen than before, but Remus hadn’t bitten hard enough to pierce through flesh. “No,” he said quickly. “Not at all…” And then in a much quieter tone, he added “I did like it.” 

Remus chuckled, he’d never expected Sirius to get all shy when kissing someone, and yet here he was, positively blushing at a small bite he’d given him.

“You’re adorable,” Remus said as he leaned a little closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“He is,” you agreed. “You’re too,” you added, remembering how shy he sometimes got. 

“And you,” Sirius said as he leaned over and pressed a short kiss to your lips. But you leaned into his kiss too fast and suddenly he had one arm on Remus’ shoulder and the other on yours, spinning you in front of him and in between the the two of them. You had your back against his chest, and you were looking at Remus with your throat dry. Perhaps it was your turn to feel the warmth spreading in your cheeks now. 

“We’ve neglected our Little Witch too long. Don’t you think so too, Moony?” Sirius said in a rather coky voice. It hadn’t felt like that at all, but it was true that it hadn’t been until a few seconds ago that you’d gotten a kiss from either of them. Sirius pressed his lips to your neck and pushed his hips into your back while Remus tried to pull them away before you noticed, even when he knew Sirius had. 

“She doesn’t mind that at all, Moony,” Sirius said, pressing himself against you a little more when he noticed Moony’s reaction. He also wondered if Moony would mind it if he pressed himself agaisnt him like he was doing with you. 

You smiled and placed both hands around Remus’ neck before pulling him into a kiss. You were the only one with clothes still, and while it did feel like too many, you had been too busy kissing Remus and watching him get kissed by Sirius to care too much about removing them yourself.

When he kissed you he was much softer than when he’d kissed Sirius, and while you thought it was unbearably sweet that he would consider you like that, you didn’t want to miss any of the fun either. You didn’t love when men slowed down for you in quidditch, and you didn’t want Remus to do it when he kissed you either. So this time around it was you the one that kissed him with desperation, with a need and want that was so deep-rooted within you it was almost ridiculous that you hadn’t noticed before someone had to straight up tell you about it. 

And then it was you who bit him, a little harder than you’d bitten Sirius in the past and you felt Moony moan. He’d been trying so hard not to make it obvious how turned on he was with the two of you ravishing him the way you were, but there was only so much someone could conceal. It’d been too long, and perhaps, he didn’t want to conceal it anymore.

Sirius had been kissing your neck as Remus kissed you, but he had to stop when the other boy moved his hand to the back of his neck and leaned closer to you, holding you flush against Sirius’ and his torso. “You’re so bIoody stunning,” he said in between a kiss. “Both of you, I don’t understand how I got so lucky–” 

“How did we get so lucky,” intervened Sirius as he placed his hand around Remus’ head and pulled him onto his mouth. 

“So lucky,” you echoed before leaning your head back into his neck. This time around, while being in between the two of them you had much better access, and you were exploring all over his neck, trying to figure out if there was a spot he liked more than the others, a spot that made him whimper and moan like the one Sirius had right next to his Adam’s apple. You wanted to know if you could find the one place that would wind him up, and turn him into a music box filled with lewd sounds desperate to escape as you popped the lid open, as his lips parted for either your tongue or Sirius’ to slide in.

Your hands were now on his shoulders, they were bigger than Sirius’, but you thought they were just as delightfully firm as you tightened your grip around them. You could feel his scars under the pad of your fingers and you thought it was the most interesting and exquisite of feelings, not because you cared about the way scars felt, but because it was his body you were touching and because you knew you could. 

Because you knew your touch was making him feel things beyond comprehension and because you knew comprehension had fallen into oblivion now that you could kiss each other, and that they could kiss each other, and how enraptured it made each and every one of you. 

Your hands were slow in their descent, almost tentative, caressing the curves of his abdomen as they found their way down. “May I touch you?” you asked. Your warm breath against his neck still unnerving. 

“You are touching me,” he replied as he pulled away from Sirius’ lips and looked for yours. “You haven’t stopped since you got in the damn water,” he said, no matter how he worded it, it didn’t sound like a complaint. Especially not when his lips chased yours so inexorably.

“Not what she means,” Sirius responded for you since your mouth was occupied in Moony’s. “Our little Vixen here wants more.” 

Remus pulled apart from the kiss, you were both panting, but he was looking at you with a stern sort of gaze. You let your hands slide down just a little bit more, to make the hint a little clearer, but Remus had already gotten the idea. 

“You don’t have to, just because we’re making out it doesn’t mean–”  

“I know,” you said softly. “Of course I know,” you added as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

It is true, it had taken you a lot more to get nearly that far with Sirius, but you could tell how desperate both boys were for you, and for each other. All those pent-up feelings, not only from them but also from you needed an outlet, and you had a pretty good idea how to release all that accumulated tension. But more than anything, you were just as desperate to know more about Moony as Sirius was. You wanted to hear him moan like you’d heard Sirius moan at the fae pool, you craved to close the one gap still keeping you far from him, the one thing that was different between him and Sirius in regards to closeness. 

You needed Remus to feel as close to you as Sirius was because you’d never want him to feel left out again, you’d never want him to feel like a third wheel or like he was getting in the way –that was one of the worst feelings, and you had only experienced it for a few days– not now and not ever. He had to feel welcomed in the relationship because it was already hard enough to deal with all those feelings between two people, three would unequivocally become a labyrinth –It was definitely a good thing you liked puzzles.

“I want to,” you said, clear enough to reassure his nervousness. 

He then leaned down to kiss you. He not only felt like the luckiest man alive, he was positive he was. Only the luckiest man alive would have the most gorgeous girl be so eager to touch him, only the luckiest man alive would have not one, but two lovers desperate to kiss and touch and feel every single thing about him. It was maddening, but he was ready to be consumed by it, and by the fire that burned so hot in his chest that felt like he was going to turn into ash. 

But if ashes were what would be left of him after kissing the two of you, then he would gladly take the punishment. He would turn to dust just for the sake of being with you like this again, of having the two of you so close, that you felt like one rather than three. Like a perfectly oiled mechanism, acting in tandem with one another, burning together. Whether it was to be born again or to disappear forever, it wouldn’t matter as long as you were together. That’s how intense the feeling was, and how ready he was to yield to it.

Your hand didn’t take too long before it was feeling him through his trousers. You were gentle as you touched him, like you had always been whenever you touched him, and he couldn’t help but grunt at the first brush of your fingers. At your small hands searching so wilfully for him. 

“Is that all right?” you asked, almost unsure. 

Remus had his eyes closed shut, eyebrows knit and he was holding onto Sirius’ bicep in a grip almost strong enough to be uncomfortable, but Sirius was absolutly in awe by Moony’s grip and by his lost gaze. He could tell he was trying inexorably hard not to straight-up grind into you. Merlin knew how equally hard it had been for Sirius to not lose control over how good you felt back at the fae pool, and even right then, with the way your hips kept crashing onto him as you tentatively touched Moony. 

“If his flushed face is anything to go by, Étoile, Remus is more than ok,” Sirius said with a teasing smile. Remus half wanted to shove him for being such a tease, but the other half just wanted him even closer and that part won. 

“You talk too much,” he said as he leaned back into Sirius to kiss him rather roughly, it wasn’t quite a shove, but it was enough. His eyes were completely golden by now, and it wasn’t anger flowing through his veins.

You were lightly crushed by the sudden movement and you tightened your grip on him, earning yet another one of those spiffing moans of his. Sirius laughed, but Moony did that thing again that made Sirius crazy –small bites– and he quickly turned into a moaning mess.

You continued to rub one of your hands on Remus’ crotch while the other one was already trying to unbutton his trousers, which was much harder with one hand, and with no fucking visibility, So while the two of them continued kissing, you slowly started to slide below the water, since then, you’d be at least, able to see what you were doing. Stupid trouser buttons, you thought. 

Thankfully the soapy water was charmed, so when you opened your eyes underneath it, it didn’t hurt at all. With a better view of the situation, you figured out why it was so damn hard to find the button. There was no button. Well technically there was one, but there was a small metal latch first and then there was a hidden button. You smiled as you managed to get the damn thing off and you were about to pull the zipper down when the two boys pulled apart from each other like they had been shot with depulso. 

You were about to go back up to ask if everything was okay when you felt Remus’ hand gently sit on your shoulder, pushing you down just slightly. You looked up at him and through the bubbles, you managed to see his mortified expression urging you not to move. 

It had been a fleeting glance, but you got the hint in an instant. Whatever the hell was happening out there, It was better if you stayed hidden by the bubbles, perhaps someone had gotten in.

And someone had indeed gotten in.

Severus had been running from the toads for hours, he hadn’t been told by anyone that they were gathering in the Great Hall because he had gone to the library after the Grand Staircase and got caught in a book.  Literally, caught in a book. When he read the first line, out loud because he wanted to piss the librarian off for telling him to go to bed, and he really could be obnoxius if he wanted to.

Unfortunatelly his little rouse slapped in him the back when the book’s charms got activated by his words and he ended up inside the goddamn story for the rest of the night and early morning.

It was almost like reliving a memory through a pensive, but he didn’t want to relive the stupid memory of the goddamn curse breaker. In fact, the only reason he had picked the book was becasue Barty had recommended it. The fucking asshole probably knew what was going to happen and did it on purpose. Barty often did things like that but he was one of the few people in his house that didn’t hate his guts for being so damn good in potions and charms and he had tried, almost remarkably hard, not to alienate him. 

Not to mention that his father was a politician and he was always hanging around Evan and Regulus, both kids of very important wizarding houses. Severus wasn’t an idiot, he knew being a half-bIood was a pain in the ass in the Wizarding world and he knew he had to work remarkably hard to earn his place. If only his mother hadn’t fallen in love with a muggle, he wouldn’t have to work so much to befriend people he wouldn’t actually care much for, and perhaps would still be friends with Lily, or so he thought. 

Of course, it was easier, for him and for the entire world, to blame someone else for his problems. Be it the situation, or someone else’s decisions, Severus wasn’t ready to hold himself accountable for what he’d done and said to Lily. It was easier to pretend he was forced to be a certain way to be able to fit in with the Slytherin clique, and he slept better at night when he told himself it was all worth it because in the future he would have earned a good job through his connections and extensive networking with important people. And maybe then he could rescue Lily, and apologize and tell her he had to do such things. 

But Severus never did those things because he had to, in fact, Severus rarely did anything because he had to do it, he did them because he wanted to. And while Lily’s hurt countenance had been a hard blow to whatever construction of his personality he kept up, he never actually regretted what he said, only that he’d hurt her for saying it. 

Either way, the memory of the course breaker had been an absolute nightmare for him. He even kept calling him an idiot every couple of minutes just because of how exasperated he was. 

“How do I leave?” 

“You must finish the chapter,” the course breaker had responded. 

“I don’t want to, let me out.” 

But the course breaker had only gone on with his story.

“Idiot,” he said, of course, there was no reaction whatsoever from the course breaker, he was too much occupied telling his story.

When they finally finished with their stupid tale and Severus was let out of the book he ran towards the door.  It seemed to be locked, and he couldn’t fucking exit the room, but of course, he was worried for his class because his attendance was impeccable and he wasn’t going to allow a damn book to ruin that for him. So he pushed with all his might and then he used an unlocking spell. 

It took him a few minutes, but when he finally managed to open the doors he was greeted with a disgusting layer of slime, and then a fucking sea of toads. By the time he managed to escape the bIoody slime trap, the door had shut itself again and he couldn’t open it, no matter how much he tried. His hands were too slippery and he could barely even get a proper hold of his wand. 

Eventually, he gave up trying to get in again and decided to face the toads instead. By now he assumed not many people were in classes since most classrooms were also infested with toads so he decided he had to get a fucking shower, or bath, or something to get out of the stupid slime.

He’d gotten a howler about the portrait incident, and Slughorn had threatened to take away his Prefect role if he didn’t apologize to the portraits –who had spread the word all over the castle– and he kept getting dirty looks from every single picture he passed. He had no intention of apologizing, and he didn’t know for how much longer he’d be able to enjoy the privileges of being a prefect, so he decided to take advantage of them while he still could.

So, instead of helping students or trying to get rid of frogs like he usually would, he walked straight towards the Prefect Bathrooms, not caring much for the toads that barely even had time to skip away from his feet from how fast he was walking. Once outside of the doors, he relaxed. Whatever had caused the toad infestation, had definitely not gotten them inside the bathroom, which meant he’d be able to at least get all the slime in peace. No more annoying toad croaking for him. 

“Whispering Woods,” he said, bored and annoyed, and not expecting what he’d see inside. 

You’d just gone inside the water when the door creaked open. The first thing he heard was the water already going, and he was about ready to kick out whoever the hell had gotten in the bathroom first, except that instead of a person washing themselves or hiding, from the frogs, which he was expecting, he spotted Remus Lupin and Sirius black kissing. 

KISSING!

Both boys split apart in a second, both turning to him with equally shocked expressions. To his dismay, Remus instantly brought his hand under the water and seemed to be adjusting something there –you, he was holding you down. 

Severus’ face was quickly transformed into one of absolute aversion. Features twisting and making him look even more disagreeable than he already looked. “You filthy pair of sissys!” he spat, there was spit coming out of his mouth as he said it. “How dare you use the school as–”  

Sirius had pulled your wand from the counter and taken it in his hands as he stood up and pointed it straight at Severus. “Say that again, I dare you!” 

Severus had pulled back the second Sirius took out the wand, in his current slimy state he couldn’t take his wand out, which meant he had no way to defend himself, there was no doubt Sirius would have cursed him right then and there, his face was cold, his eyes sharp and he looked about ready to attack. In fact, he looked a lot more like Walburga than he did like Sirius at that particular moment. 

So he did the only natural thing he could, he ran the fuck away. He saw a spell hit the wooden frame, missing him by the hair, and continued running through the toads as the door shut itself behind him. 

“Fucking coward!” Sirius shouted and then allowed himself to fall back into the water. He sighed, placing both of his palms over his head. Muffled by his hands, Remus who was almost to shocked to think, heard Sirius’s muffled “Fuck”. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi, it's me again, you wrote about Jace and Aemond sick anda now I need an Aegon too, I love our sub!hotd boys and I love the way you write them.

Sorry, english is not my first language

You're absolutely right anon we do need to discuss Aegon being sick as well, it's only fair.

There is nothing explicit in this, but it is Aegon so of course there's definitely implied sub!aegon so bare that in mind :))

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

So the first thing to know is that when Aegon is sick he is absolutely insufferable for everyone except you (many would argue he is aways insufferable for anyone except you but he's certainly a little less needy and annoying when he's not sick). Oh and of course he's very melodramatic. He gets a cut on his finger and suddenly he's half dead and in dire need of kisses.

I also think he's horrible with actually taking medication and following the maester's orders. Well, he used to be.

If the maesters give him the medication he won't take it, and he won't even try to pretend he's taking it. It tastes terrible and he has to make sure to eat something first and he has to take the right amount and nope that's too much for his little mind, especially when he's sick.

But then he marries you and he starts tripping over his own feet trying to please you. The entire Red Keep very quickly learnt the hack of telling you what Aegon needs to do and then having you tell him because he will actually listen to you. In fact not only will he listen to you, but he'll actually go out of his way to be as good as he can be for you.

Maybe you had some events to attend that you couldnt get out of so you had to leave Aegon alone in your shared chambers while he's sick? He's even worse for the servants and maesters now than he was when he was sick before he married you, because now he's not just uncomfortable and unhappy, he's also missing his wife!! He doesn't care that the maester's are trying to feel his temperature, he doesn't want their hands on him!! He's all achey and sore and his head hurts and why are they touching him and not his wife?!

Honestly I could see the maesters eventually giving up and leaving, telling the servants to summon them when you get back so that they can actually treat him.

When you do get back, you're greeted with Aegon pouting in bed. He tries to give you the silent treatment for all of two seconds because he's whining and telling you to hurry up removing your shoes because he wants cuddles. You get into bed with him and immediately he dives into your arms. He nuzzles against your shoulder and whines when you try to pull away enough to feel his forehead.

The maesters return soon after and only then will he actually speak in full sentences to them and tell them what's going on. Every time he answers them he glances over at you to make sure you're watching, cause he's being good!!

The maesters try to get him to drink this awful medication and at first he refuses, until you sigh and have the maester hand you the bottle. You measure out the correct dose and hold the spoon for him to drink. He's not happy about it, but you give him some water to drink and then give him a forehead kiss and he's happy.

Oh and from then you cant leave him until he's recovered. Yes he knows you have engagements to attend and that you probably need to cover some of his appearances that he can't do in his current state but does he care? No. Absolutely not. He's sick and he wants his pretty wife!!

So yeah, for you he's an angel. Everyone else though? All the measurers have at some point wished to throw him off a balcony.

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Tentatively

Summary:

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely.

Contains: Fem Reader, Death Mention (but only as much as you would expect given the source material) Word Count: 2,235 Read on AO3

You still feel strange a few hours after leaving the chatroom. Grim, who despite all evidence to the contrary, is actually the Grim Reaper, left pretty abruptly after telling you there is something incredibly wrong with your soul and you are unsure if you should be concerned or offended about the whole thing. 

After a disappointing meal of microwaved leftovers and an attempt at enjoying a relaxing bath despite your apartment’s abysmal water temperature, you find yourself laying back on your bed and staring up at the all too uninteresting ceiling as you wait for your hair to dry. The window above your desk is open and the cool breeze is pleasant, but you’re already getting the sense that you will have trouble getting to sleep tonight, despite Grim’s uncharacteristic insistence that you get some rest after today. 

There’s something so lonely about these summer nights, lonely enough that you find yourself scrolling through your contacts list, looking for someone ( anyone ) to talk to. Calling your parents this late will only make them worry, and all of your friends from uni have much better sleep schedules than you do and will already be out cold. You toss your phone onto the vacant pillow beside you and let out a sigh, that really only leaves one option. 

Hoisting yourself from the bed, you walk over to the desk and grab your laptop. Quickly tapping open the chatroom app and turning off your camera before hitting the call button. You push your lamp and pot-plant out of the way to leave room for the laptop on your bedside table and lay back down as you wait for an answer. 

You spend the first seven rings worrying that he won't pick up, by the eighth you are proven wrong.

“I thought I already told you to go to sleep.” He says in lieu of a greeting. 

All the lethargic energy in the room suddenly dissipates, and your mouth tugs up in a smile, “Hello to you too”

“I was being serious.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t my boss.” He huffs, “I am your reaper.” “Oh?” You reply, smirking to yourself, “ My reaper, are you? Just mine?” “No! I- I’m just assigned to you. That does not mean-”

You laugh, “Sorry, sorry. I’m just teasing, thank you for picking up, I mean it.” It’s quiet, but you swear that you hear a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the call, “I- well, I just wanted to be certain that you were not suffering any side effects from the soul connection.” He clears his throat, “You…aren’t…are you?”

“I’m having trouble sleeping, but I don’t think I can blame that on you. I suppose I feel a little jittery? But that makes sense given my emotional state right now.” “What is it?” “What’s what?” “Your uh- your emotional state.”

“Oh.” You say, feeling your heart beating a rapid tattoo behind your ribs, “Well, I dunno. I’m a little overwhelmed, I suppose. I really just thought you were an edgy cosplayer, and I mean, you still are but you are also literally the Grim Reaper, so I’m still just dealing with that I guess.”

“That is perfectly normal, then. Though you should have been feeling frightened the moment I contacted you, your reaction was quite delayed.” “Hey! I never said ‘frightened’ I said overwhelmed! That’s a completely different emotion.”

He chuckles, “Unable to stop thinking about me, then?” “That also isn't what I said.” Though, he isn’t entirely wrong, “I’m just worried about how I'm going to focus at work tomorrow when I’ll be spending the whole day looking over my shoulder to make sure some white-haired twink isn't about to commit murder upon me.” 

“White-haired what? ” “Twinnnnk~” You reply, “Look it up, I’m sure that will keep you busy for a few hours.” “I hardly need to be kept busy , I have important work to do.” “Like stealing my soul.” “Yours and others, I do not just follow you around all day.” He says dryly, “You are not that important. Also, I will not be murdering you. I am pushing you in the correct direction, one you have stubbornly been avoiding for far too long.” You hum quietly to yourself, reaching out to pat your cat where he sits next to you on the bed, “How was I meant to die anyway? Just out of curiosity, since you seem to know everything about it.” He doesn't answer for some time, and the deafening silence makes you regret even posing the question. 

“Do you really want to know?” He finally asks, “Most people never find out, because unlike you they die when they are supposed to.” “Hit me with it, Grimmy.” He groans, “Do not call me that.” then you hear him sigh, deeply, contemplatively, “You were supposed to die of food poisoning.” “Oh.” You reply, feeling your heart sink a little, “Damn, that sucks. That’s so…boring”

“Death often is.” “I guess, well, I guess I was hoping that the way I die might be interesting at least. What food would have poisoned me anyway?” “Ham sandwich.” “Yikes. Was the ham poisoned or something?” “No, just expired. On a related note, you do need to clean out your fridge more often.” He’s right. Your fridge is pretty nasty, and it kind of always has been. It’s a very low priority on your list of tasks.

“Grim?”

“Yes?”

You swallow, unsure how to phrase the real question hiding in the recesses of your mind, “could you…I dunno, kill me gently, if it comes to it? I mean, I just-“ you roll over onto your side, making eye contact with the black screen of your laptop, “If I have to die, I don’t want it to hurt.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then he replies, “I don’t want it to hurt you either.”

“That’s…sweet, Thank you.” “Lacking desire to see you suffer does not make me sweet , it makes me considerate .” He sighs irritably, “More importantly, does this mean you’re finally willing to hand over your soul?” You laugh, “ No! I just- I dunno, I had a weird day and I'm feeling kinda existential now.” You look through your window, staring up at the night sky, “Do you feel that way sometimes, or is it just a human thing?”

“I do not see how that’s any of your business.” “C’mon, Grim. Just play along for once, get silly with it.” You hear him huff on the other end of the line, you can picture the exact pouty face he must be making right now, “I have been a reaper as long as I can remember, and will continue to be one for the rest of my life, there is little for me to be existential about.”

“Hm.” 

“What?” He says brusquely, “What are you ‘hm-ing’ about?”

“The thought of having one job for the rest of my life is exactly the sort of thing that makes me existential, that’s all.” “Well you don’t have to work at the same job for the rest of your life, so what exactly are you complaining about?” “I mean, the rest of my life might only be a few more days.” You say, “Provided you win our bet of course, which you will not be doing.” “Do not doubt me, Sunshine. You may come to regret it.” You giggle, “Doubtful.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the call, you can only assume that he is also lying in bed right now, “I am quite literally death, and I even gave you concrete proof of this fact this evening.” his voice turns quiet, dare you think it, wistful, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” You shrug, even though he can’t see you, “You aren’t very scary.”

“I am going to take your soul .” “You are going to try and take my soul.” a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And even if you do, you’ve already promised to do it gently .” “I promised not to hurt you, I never said anything about being gentle .” 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see the difference between those two statements.” He groans, and when he speaks again his voice is muffled. You suspect he has his face buried in a pillow, “You are infuriating. When I leave the chatroom for the evening I assume that I am done with you, I was not prepared for you to insist on continuing our conversation well into the night.”

“What, are you tired?” All goes quiet for a moment, and then, “No. Are you?” “Nope.” “Hmph, you should be at this hour, especially after a day of work.”

“I- well, I dunno…”

You don’t want to tell him the truth, that most of your friends have grown up and don’t talk to you anymore, that while you love your family it’s too difficult to find time to travel and see them, that you are incredibly lonely. You are tired, you have to be up at 5:00 to get ready for work tomorrow morning, but the idea of saying goodbye, of hanging up, makes something ache deep inside you. Something inside the very soul he wants to steal. 

“You don’t know, what?”

“Huh?” Grim huffs again, “You said, ‘i dunno’ and then stopped talking, which is very out of character for you, by the way.” “Oh? Did you miss me? Were even those brief seconds of silence enough to make you realize how much you love hearing my voice?” “I will hang up.” 

“Don’t.” You say before you have time to think better of it, “Please.”

“I-“ he clears his throat, “Only if you can act normally for the rest of our conversation.”

“I’m plenty normal, you’re the weird one.”

“What’s weird, how am I weird?”

You roll onto your back, staring up at the celing, “Oh i dunno, just the whole ‘I am death incarnate! I have come for your soul! I will connect my soul to yours! ’ schtik” 

“You know fully well that it is not a…what did you call it? A schtik?” He pronounces the word completely wrong, “Whatever that is, it is not one of those. I am death incarnate, I am here for you soul, and you were literally an active part in the soul connection.”

“Oh, about that soul connection thing, by the way.” He scoffs, “Your ability to change the subject at a whim is still strong as ever i see.” 

“I know, I’m very talented- anyway! I wanted to ask if you can do anything cool now that we have a soul link or whatever.” “I have already told you, I cannot control your body. As entertaining as it would be to embarrass you publicly, even my exceptional abilities could not do that” 

“Oh kay , how about something easier, then?” You feel the warmth of your cat as he snuggles up against your side and instinctively reach out to pat him, “Read my mind, go on!” “I cannot do that.” “C’mon, Grimmy, give it a go!” You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m thinking about something real hard right now.” He sighs, “Are you thinking about your cat?” “ Whaaaat? How did you know?!”

“I didn’t know , i guessed. I can’t read your mind, but i am still attuned with your soul.” His voice has turned uncharacteristically soft, he’s almost whispering, “It… flutters …when you are happy, and your cat makes you happy. So I guessed…”

“So you’re a soul reader, then?” You ask, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach also feels oddly fluttery right now.

“That is not a thing. You’re just making things up now.”

“Try again.” You say, your mind unwittingly flooded with thoughts of soft white hair and judgemental red eyes. Of hands you wish were bare, of sharp toothed smiles. Your heart slows to a languid rhythm, and something you aren’t ready to put a name to curls warmly in your belly. You close your eyes, softly this time, and breathe, “What am i thinking about now?”

He goes silent for a long time, you can hear the slow, even draw of his breath. You can picture him laying back on his bed, hair splayed over the pillow, brow creased in concentration and you wonder if he is thinking about you too. After what feels like an age, he finally answers, “your…plant?”

You burst into laughter and any tension in the air shatters, “My plant?! What about my soul was screaming plant just then?”

“Well, I don’t know! It was just happy again, happier, even and I assumed that you were smart enough not to just think about your cat again.” 

“Yeah, you got me.” You lie, “it was my cat again.”

“Hells, every single day you find a new way to get under my skin.” He sighs, and despite his earlier statement, his next words come out almost fondly , “You need sleep, mortal.”

“Yeah.” You reply, feeling that ache tug at you again, “I probably do.”

“I will talk to you tomorrow, that is, if you survive until then.”

That gets a laugh out of you, and you can’t tell if that was his intention or if he was being completely serious, “I look forward to it. Remember to murder me nicely, Grim.”

“As nicely as I can, I swear.” You can hear his smile, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

[animasola86]

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 4 / 4

After enduring a rather rough impact play scene, you find out that Mistress also has a soft side, and a soft body and other soft parts that you seemingly can't get enough of.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Aftercare! Temperature play. Tribadism/scissoring. Cunnilingus. Squirting. Bondage. Impact play. Sex toys. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.4k

A/N: Here it is, the promised wlw smut, finally! But beware, it does end a little darker than I originally intended. Sometimes these things just happen. Oops.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You close your eyes, heaving a deep sigh of relief that rolls through your hurting body like a cold caress, and in the next moment, you feel hands on your wrists and ankles, removing the rigid leather cuffs that have surely cut into your skin with how much you've struggled against them.

The vertigo is still there, swirling through your head, but you only feel how bad it really is, when those hands pull you backwards and into a standing position. Not only do your legs feel like jello, boneless as you are, but as soon as your feet touch the cold concrete floor, you yelp and jump as a sharp pain crashes through you.

You stumble against something, someone, balancing on the balls of your feet to keep the contact of your hurting soles to the ground to a minimum. Blinking away tears, you look around, realizing you're clinging to Mistress, who watches you with her head tilted, one hand on your waist, the other in the air as she snaps her fingers at someone you can't see.

And suddenly you are being lifted when two strong hands grab your waist and fling you into someone's arms. It happens so fast, you can barely register the new position. Once you settle, your heart still pounding frantically and your breaths rattling out of your sore throat, you realize you're held by a large burly man. Heat flushes your face, your nostrils flaring as you try to breathe against the embarrassment.

The man doesn't really acknowledge you, his face a mask, no expression, eyes staring straight ahead. Somehow you get the impression he could be working as a bouncer or security guard. No matter the case, you feel tiny in his arms, and your nakedness really irks you now. It's one thing to be naked in front of Mistress or a bunch of random strangers whose faces you can't see, but being this close to a man, in your current state no less, makes you feel very uncomfortable.

You stare at your hands, trying to make yourself smaller, as he just holds you, one large hand on your lower back, the other under your knees, your body pliant enough to just rest against his broad chest. You hear Mistress' voice, giving hushed orders to her assistants, while you keep fidgeting with your fingers, your eyes glued to the long red welt on each palm and the irritated skin around your wrists. You poke at it to distract yourself, relishing in the cold shudder crashing through you as you do.

“Bring her here.” The words barely register when the man who holds you starts moving, and you grab onto the front of his black suit jacket instinctively, a gasp on your lips as you look up, finding him watching you. You blink and lower your eyes again, letting go of him, an awkward little cough stuck in your throat. You don't even know why you're blushing this badly.

Luckily you don't have to find out when he eventually sets you down again, onto a soft surface that feels surprisingly cool against the warm skin of your bruised rear. You still flinch when the cold leather comes in contact with it, but you fight through the sensations, biting the inside of your cheek, hoping that if you won't fuss about this, they will forget about you and this may all be over soon. Wishful thinking...

Mistress comes into view, ordering the man and other people away, telling them to clean the scene and bring her some water. You watch her silently, as you slump down onto the couch, balancing sideways on your hip instead of your butt, your legs pulled up, your hands hugging them tightly to your chest. The pain becomes this low thumping in the back of your mind, still there, very much so, but slowly bleeding into something you could tolerate, you're sure. You have to, after all.

Closing your eyes to focus on the warmth of your skin instead, you seemingly drift off a little, because when you open your eyes again, your head is lying on someone's lap, a soft hand caressing your arm, another tangled in your hair. You turn slightly and look up, blushing deeply when you see Mistress smiling down at you. She keeps stroking you gently, and you settle into the affectionate touch, your eyes never leaving her beautiful face. It's oddly calming, even when she starts speaking in a low voice.

“I'm very pleased with you tonight, pet,” she says. “Our guests really like you. The turnout is impressive, isn't it? I've already seen some regulars.”

You blink at her words. Regulars? You've had the suspicion before, but this settles it. It's not the first time you've had to endure this. You stare at her, frowning, but she only smiles.

“They didn't even mind the little change of plans your stunt caused,” she adds, her fingers drawing circles on your cheek. “What happened, hm? You're usually so good with the dildo gag. I was surprised to see your gag reflex coming back. I thought we'd trained that away for good...”

You swallow hard at the mention of the thing you don't want to ever experience again, but her words create images in your head, of distant memories, and a shudder goes through your body as you remember the many times she forced the toy down your throat while you gagged and spluttered until one day you didn't anymore.

“You're a little out of it tonight, aren't you?” she keeps going, not waiting for any response. “But you really don't have to worry. I told you, you've done this before. So many times, I mean, look at all the pictures we created, baby,” she adds, raising her hand to wave at the large prints surrounding you.

You don't follow her gaze, you don't want to see a close-up of your stuffed cunt right now. You keep focusing on her. Her calling you something other than 'pet' makes you feel all warm inside, it's almost as if she's a different person when she calls you 'baby', it feels so much more intimate. You lean into it, snuggling against her soft thighs, a weak smile on your dry lips.

She looks back at you, a soft expression on her perfect face. Her hand returns to your head, her fingertips giving you a gentle squeeze that makes you sigh contently. “How do you feel?” she then asks, genuine concern in her dark eyes.

You consider the question. You're hurting, badly, the worst pain sits between your ass cheeks, and every time you clench your hole by accident, it stings and throbs painfully. Your cunt feels bruised and sore, and your rear, especially the left cheek, feels uncomfortably warm and tight from the many strikes whoever had control over the paddle gave you. The other bruises and welts don't feel as bad anymore, but overall, yes, you are hurting, but...

You also felt really good for a while, when those orgasms crashed through you, so intense the sheer memory of it makes you shiver deeply. It's a strange thing. And with your mind going in and out of memories, when most of the time you wonder why you're here and what is happening, and you keep telling yourself that you don't want to do these things, you also realize, deep down, that you, for one, have no other choice, and two, agreed to this, at a point in your life that you can't remember, but you know you have.

Mistress wouldn't force you to do this, right? She seems so sincere in the moments when she's consoling you, that's not fake, there really is something between you that you wish you could remember more of. Though even when you can't see it clearly, you feel it's there, and that's a relief between all the rough things she does to you, makes you do. And you know: you want this, you want to please this woman, you'd do anything for her, it feels right.

“I...” you start, your voice still raw and hoarse. “I'm okay,” you tell her, and her smile widens, her hand cupping your cheek.

“I knew you'd be. My good girl,” she whispers, and the praise flows through your body, warm and comforting, settling deep in your gut, soothing the aches in your abused core. “You're stronger than you think, baby. You can do this. You make me so proud.”

You give her a jerky nod, pressing your other cheek into her leg as you close your eyes for a moment. She lets you rest, continuing to caress your hair and arm, her touches warm and gentle. When she speaks again, her voice is slightly different, more detached, harder. “Sit up, pet.”

And despite the aches of your body, you do, sitting up on your knees, eyes fluttering open, facing her with an obedient shine in your eyes. She holds a cup of water with a straw towards you, and you take it carefully as you bring it to your lips and start sucking on it, the cold liquid filling your mouth and running down your throat when you swallow eagerly.

She watches you as you drink, and you can't look away either. Once the cup is empty, she nods to someone behind you and a pair of hands takes it away from you. Feeling strangely refreshed, you inhale deeply. Mistress pats her lap, eyeing you with a slight smirk. Your cheeks heat up as you crawl over her legs and settle on her thighs, ass up, chest pressed into the couch cushions as you rest your head on your folded arms. Somehow you knew to assume this position, as if you've done this many times before. You probably have.

You feel her hands sliding over your bare curves, teasing down your spine, a gentle pressure on your bruised rear, causing you to breathe harder. Someone approaches you to your right, a strange clinking sound echoing in your ears. You close your eyes and ignore it, relaxing into Mistress' warmth. Until it isn't anything but warm.

Something cold and hard presses between your shoulder blades, causing you to flinch. It's leaving a wet film on your warm skin, melting its way lower. Oh. An ice cube. After the initial shock, the sensation feels almost heavenly, cooling you and your tense nerves and the irritated skin instantly. A deep sigh escapes you as you melt into Mistress' lap like the ice melts on your body.

She drags cube after cube over your back, moves them over your spine, around the curves of your rear before she gathers a handful and slips them right between your tender ass cheeks. The sudden cold on your bruised rim makes you wince and jerk against her, but she presses her other hand on the backs of your thighs to hold you down. Her hand is just as cold as she gathers the cubes from where they are resting against your puffy pussy lips, and you almost wish she'd let them there, it feels too nice, such a contrast to the harsh treatment you've endured earlier.

But she seems to have something else in mind. The clinking sounds again, and you assume it's a bowl full of ice cubes. You expect more little ice balls on your skin, but instead you feel something harder and bigger press between your cheeks. A whine slips from your mouth when she nudges your bruised sphincter, followed by a choked cough as she pushes whatever she's holding into your hole, just for a few seconds before she retrieves it again, but it's enough to make your skin tingle somewhat pleasantly.

She repeats the motion a few times, soothing the burning in your ass, and you could swear you can hear a quiet sizzling noise, at least that's how it feels when she moves the icey object over your hot skin. Eventually she pulls it away and grabs something else, before she does the same thing to your warm cunt, this object is even bigger but equally as cold and soothing, and she dips it in, a few inches at first, never long enough for the ice to do any damage, before she pushes the thing in all the way, causing you to groan as it nudges against your sore muscles, but the cold sensation is like nothing you've ever felt before, it chills you from within, feels too good to be true.

“Push,” she tells you quietly, and even though you're confused by her command, your body reacts nonetheless, and you clench your muscles to push the object out again. She catches it and removes it fully, leaving you wishing she'd put it back in. “Good girl,” she whispers, rubbing your heated ass cheeks with her cold hand. Despite feeling empty and still quite warm, her praise and her soothing touches do help calm you down more and more.

You're almost drifting off now, relaxed as you are, but when she moves her fingers between your thighs and pokes at your entrance, your attention is back on her. She probes your hole for a moment, and with how cold her fingers are, your muscles tense around them, pulling together so hard it borders on painful, but before you can protest, she pulls them out again, caressing your outer lips gently.

“Nice and tight again, hm?” she muses softly. You squirm a little in response, burying your heated face in your folded arms. She laughs quietly. “Your body is a marvel, pet. Whatever I do to you, you always bounce right back. That's why I chose you, that's why you are perfect...”

“Thank you, Mistress,” you mumble, the words falling from your lips without much thought. It just feels right to say them.

Her hands leave you for a moment, before you feel them on your shoulders, gently but firmly pulling you up. She then pushes you back towards the other side of the couch and crawls right over you, her hands tangling in your hair, her elbows next to your shoulders, as you lie beneath her, immobile, blinking up at her, and not even the pressure of your bruised skin against the cushions can distract you from the growing throbbing inside your core.

She shifts on top of you and nudges your legs apart before she lies down between them, the soft fabric of her dress pressing into your heated crotch. A strangled moan escapes you that makes her smile down at you. “Grab my ass, pet,” she whispers, holding your gaze, and your hands move, a tremble in them but you still do as you're told, fingers scraping over her hips before you curl them around her rear. “Good, now squeeze, show me how much you need me...”

Your mouth feels dry, your heart thundering in your chest, and your hands grab and squeeze, feeling her soft but firm flesh, and as you do her dress rides up more and more until you feel her skin against your fingertips. She grinds her pelvis into yours, pushing against your hands, and when your fingers wander, dipping between her ass cheeks, she throws her head back and moans loudly. Her reaction makes you gasp and you want to pull your hands back, but she suddenly cups your face and leans closer, her nose brushing against yours.

“Keep your hands on me,” she orders, and you do, firmly holding her glutes, fingertips teasing between them, as she keeps bucking against you, and the friction feels so good, your clit throbbing and pulsing against her dress, a new wave of arousal crashing through you so intensely, you can't help but moan too. Her full lips pull into a smirk, and a second later, she presses them to yours, kissing you deeply, swallowing the gasps and whines as you both continue to grind against the other.

In your frenzy to feel her closer to you, you lift your shaking legs and hook your feet around her thighs, pulling her closer. For a moment she lets you, too distracted by how your tongues move against each other, before she lets out a low groan and buries her face in the crook of your neck, her hot breath ghosting your skin. Your chest rises and falls rapidly against hers, the heat building up between the two of you making you wish she'd bring the ice dildo back.

She leans away eventually, propped on her arms, eyes hooded and dark as she stares down at you, while you just lie there, pushed into the couch, still holding her ass. Her fingers find your wrists as she pulls your hands back, only to put them on her chest. She doesn't have to say anything as you start groping her beautiful breasts through the fabric of her dress, firm and heavy in your grasp, while she hooks one hand under your leg and lifts it up until it rests on her shoulder. Shifting slightly, she turns your hip and pushes her dress up more (and you realize she's not wearing any panties). Now your crotches align perfectly, skin on warm skin, and she wastes no time to start rubbing them together.

Little moans escape you, your fingers digging deeper into her soft flesh, holding on for dear life, as she grinds against you, holding onto your leg for leverage, her full lips parted, her eyes never leaving yours. The sensation feels as foreign as it feels familiar, and hazy memories flood your mind, of endless hours of being entangled like this, of growing heat and deep trembles, of a passion you wish you'd remember more clearly.

You realize this is more than being her muse and guinea-pig, her pet and plaything, you feel it as warm as the tension settling in your stomach: you care about this woman. And despite her rough demeanor, her intimidating presence, she cares about you too. You see it on her pretty face as she watches you, with her lips parted and eyes trained on you, as she clings to your leg and grinds faster and harder, her moans melting into yours, and it's all that matters.

It's just the two of you, alone on that couch, and you forget about the large photographs on the walls around you, about the TVs still blaring echoes of past moans as she stuffs you full of various objects, about the people standing in the shadows, watching you. In the back of your mind, you are aware of all that, but you don't care anymore. It's you and her, grinding your slick slits together, riding the high that builds and builds, as you lose yourself in the other's touch and warmth.

Your eyes roll back, your hands falling limply to your sides, leaving her breasts untouched, as you drift into that sparkling void, where lights flicker like fireflies, a blissful experience among all the other things you had to endure. You buck against her and she jerks against you, one hand tight around your thigh while her other hand suddenly finds your throat. You gasp, eyes fluttering back open, black spots dancing at the edge of your vision as she pushes you into the couch, the collar tight beneath her palm, her grip unrelenting.

Choked wails escape you as she leans over you, her body undulating over yours, her pace unbroken, as she stares down at you, baring her teeth, her nostrils flaring as she chases that high you've been on for herself. Your hands move blindly until you find her bare thigh, and you rub it as best as you can, kneading her soft flesh, trying to meet her relentless rhythm.

She growls from behind her teeth, rubbing harder and faster, and the friction feels so good you can barely think, barely breathe. It's all a blur, and when it suddenly stops as she pushes back and away from you, you whine in frustration, but only for so long before gasps and yelps escape you as she rams her fingers into your pulsing pussy.

It only takes her a few hard plunges before you arch your back and hips off the couch, crying out loudly as you come around her fingers, your wetness leaving you in twitching squirts that coat the front of her dress – not that you would have noticed or minded in that moment as your eyes roll back for good and you collapse into the cushions, boneless again, satisfied, too blissed out to care about anything anymore.

You barely notice how she climbs off you, how you're being pulled further down the couch, until you do notice how she sits down on your chest, her wet crotch rubbing over your breasts before she scoots higher, and with a tight hand in your hair, she angles your head and presses your face right against her slick cunt, her clit throbbing against your nose. It's muscle memory at this point as you part your lips and give her slit a languid stroke of your tongue, her taste exploding in your mouth, further adding to the vertigo in your head.

She grinds her pelvis against your face, moaning above you, while you lap up her wetness, your tongue parting her labia before you press your mouth between them, sucking in a deep breath, her scent making you dizzy in the best way you've ever experienced. You keep licking, she keeps grinding, her noises growing louder, and as she rides your face, you fully lose yourself in the job she's given you. It's not a job though, it's a pleasure, your pleasure, and you feel your own pussy pulsing in response to eating hers.

Your tongue dips into her clenching hole then, her warmth overwhelming for a moment, the added weight of her body pushing her down further into your face leaving you breathless and lightheaded, but you lean into the sensation, licking and lapping and prodding and poking, tasting every inch of her that you can reach. Her hands dig into your hair, pulling roughly, her moans like a symphony in your ears. As she starts shaking on top of you, you move your lips slightly up, and when they close around her pulsing clit, you hear her howling while you suck and suck, pulling more of her soft flesh into your mouth, the tip of your tongue pressing against her sensitive bud without mercy.

It should feel like revenge, making her quake like that after she's done similar things to you for who knows how many times, but instead you feel pride, accomplishment, as you realize that it's your mouth that pushes her over the edge. And you keep at it, sucking and licking, kissing her lips as you'd kiss her mouth, sinking into the taste and scent of her, of your Mistress, and when she comes on top of you, she freezes, gripping your hair tightly, her pelvis pressed against your face, her body arching above you, her drawn-out moan causing deep shivers to crash through your own body.

She leans back a bit, breathing harder as she looks down at you, before she moves one hand to her clit and rubs herself, inches away from your drenched face, her eyes on you, and you stare back, mesmerized by the sight, even more so when she pushes two slender fingers into her winking hole, pumping hard and fast, and then she comes again, with another jerk that goes through her body, and this time she sprays you with jets of her sweet wetness. You close your eyes against the sensation, but keep your lips parted, letting her come all over your face.

“Look at me,” she breathes, voice rough and hoarse, her chest heaving, and you blink up at her, your eyelashes wet and clumped, but seeing her reddened face turning from hard and concentrated into a full-on smile that makes her eyes sparkle, you know that is all that matters. She wipes at your wet face, her thumb pressing into your mouth, and you suck on it instinctively, never looking away from her beautiful face. “Good girl,” she whispers.

Your cheeks heat up, first from the praise, then from the soft slap she gives you before she clambers off you, wiping her wet hands on your fluttering stomach. You watch her push her dress down over her round rear, her fingers tangling in her wild hair, as she goes back to being the dominating figure you know and fear, the business woman, the artist. Inhaling deeply, her chest rising enticingly, she turns away from you and faces the crowd that has gathers around the couch.

You try to focus on her, licking your lips, absentmindedly wiping at your face, not sure what to do with her slick (wondering if she'll be mad if you wipe it on the couch), but when she speaks, a familiar cold gathers in your guts that makes you pull your legs up as you curl into a ball on the soft cushions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed this little extra performance,” she says, her voice steady again. “This is a night of surprises, after all. But don't worry, we will return to our scheduled event shortly. I hope you still have the toys my assistants provided you with? Yes, you can also keep your impact play items. The next round will be whatever you want it to be. I will prepare my pet and she will be yours to use however you desire. Five more minutes,” she ends with a soft laugh, nodding her head to the faceless people waiting in the shadows.

As she speaks, a new wave of dread crashes over you. As much as you enjoy being her personal plaything, making her come and coming with her, having strangers stuff you with various toys and being spanked again really doesn't sit right with you.

You're still staring at Mistress' back, when one of her assistants pulls you into a sitting position and wipes a wet cloth over your soiled face and chest. It's another girl with a vacant expression, and you wonder how she finds these people, how she found you, how she knew you were perfect for her schemes. In the end it doesn't matter, and you're being guided back to the x-shaped table.

Despite your aversion, you don't fight lying back down on it, you let them cuff your wrists and ankles again, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, letting it all happen. In your mind you go back to being close to Mistress, smelling and tasting her, feeling her skin against yours. It's enough to calm your nerves, at least a little, as she steps next to you with a smile that isn't as friendly or intimate, but calculating and dark.

Her hand finds your face, patting it gently, as she leans down a little. “Be a good girl now,” she tells you. “Let these people have their fun. Don't fight it. Remember, your body is a marvel, it can take whatever will be given to you. Do you understand?”

You nod. “Yes, Mistress,” you whisper back.

“No gag this time, baby,” she adds, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip. “I want to capture your beautiful voice. Will you scream for me, pet?”

You swallow hard, your chest rising and falling faster. “Yes...” you gasp out as she slaps your cheek. “Mistress,” you add, feeling your eyes water under the sting of her smack. She stares at you, then slaps you again. You cry out, trying to turn your head away, but she grabs your throat, pressing your collar against your windpipe. A gurgle makes it past your trembling lips.

“Yes, you'll scream for me, for all of us. I know you will, and you can. Use your pretty voice, my pretty girl,” she coos darkly. “You are mine to do whatever I want with, right? Are you, pet?”

You nod frantically, opening your mouth but no words come out. She's content with your reaction though. Smiling, she loosens her grip and leans back up, caressing your warm cheek with the back of her finger.

You're breathing harder as you watch her step away, grabbing her camera and motioning to one of her assistants who's holding a slightly larger camera that is already pointed at your face. “Capture every little whine and wail, will you?” The girl nods, a stoic face, no reaction whatsoever while you're starting to panic in your restraints.

Trying to calm yourself by forcing your rapid breaths through your nose, you dare to look around, noticing many men and women standing around the table you're tied to. They are holding various sex toys, dildos of all shapes and sizes, other phallic looking objects, mostly vibrators that are already buzzing in their hands, other turn ball shaped items between their fingers, small ones to fist-sized ones, and then there are those holding floggers and whips, paddles and canes, and a croaked whimper escapes you at the sight and memory of what those have done to you before.

You stare back up at the ceiling, knowing you can't escape, knowing you'll have to endure another round of this humiliation, but you also know you will be pushed into the blissful void again, if you just allow it, and you have the certainty that you've done this before, many times, that your body can handle it. You may not remember it, but the evidence is there, along with Mistress' words of reassurance, and that is enough to prepare yourself when the first flogger strike hits your thigh, the soft leather bands fanning out over your skin.

You cry out nonetheless, squeezing your eyes shut and struggling in your cuffs, but you tell yourself this is nothing, just a warm up, and as more blows hit your skin, warming it up, you force yourself to merely flinch. They hit your legs, your stomach, your mound and your chest, the blood rushing to the surface, throbbing slightly, but it is indeed nothing compared to the first cane hit to your left breast that leaves your head spinning and your lungs aching as a high-pitched scream rips from your throat.

There's another to your right breast, just inches away from your hard nipple, that forces a similar reaction out of you. The pain stings and pulses, shooting directly into your still swollen clit. When the canes are gone, you feel gloved hands rubbing over your skin, teasing your bruised breasts, others poking at your cunt, parting your puffy lips before they dip into your clenching hole, one finger, two, three, but before they can fist you again, you feel the first object pushing between your tense muscles.

You groan, thrashing your head back, kicking your legs helplessly as it pushes deep and deeper, poking your cervix with precision. You don't care what it is, it's long and girthy, and you know they are probably bigger things coming. It doesn't matter. It's only the beginning.

This is your fate, and as you give into it, you revel in the sensations growing inside your body, the tension, the heat building up, as you moan and whimper, wail and whine, every deep plunge causing you to cry out as a sharp pain makes your thighs twitch. They keep assaulting you with their toys and gadgets, and you let them, you tell yourself that you let them even though you don't have any other choice. It doesn't matter. You're doing this for her.

And she's right there, holding her camera to her eye as she clicks away, capturing your vulnerable moments, creating new memories you will find one day, like you did with the others, and you will wonder how those came to be. And as history repeats itself, you will end on the conclusion that this is what you do. You are her muse, her pet, the woman she chose to have by her side, to share with others, to portray. And you take pride in it.

No humiliation, no embarrassment. This is not to degrade you, it's to honor you. She said you're beautiful, she praised you, you're her good girl, her pretty girl, and you sink into those words as other things sink into you, as your screams pass your dry lips and as the pain shoots through your nerves. This stunning woman chose you, and you'd be a fool to deny her.

Because you'd do absolutely anything for her. Even sacrificing your own body.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: This concludes my little adventure into the world of wlw smut (and even darker BDSM stuff, hm). As this was my first attempt, I hope I could somehow make it enjoyable despite the dark themes.

As of right now, I have yet another idea that includes Mistress, though this time, it'll feature a dominant man and a dominant woman, both taking care of a clueless Reader. I guess that one is for my bisexual readers out there! (I seem to keep inspiring myself with these stories...) Stay tuned!

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought about this! See you soon with more depraved little smut stories that probably focus on some sort of BDSM again. Bye for now!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

[luveline]

hi jadeee!!! :D i read the fic abt poly!marauders with depressed reader and i was wondering if you could do one with aaron? for example r having trouble getting out of bed or doing small tasks and her mental health getting bad again, i don’t know if its just me but i rarely find these kind of fics <3

hi gorgeous i hope this is ok! fem, 1k

“How are you feeling?” Aaron asks, patting his face dry with a towel. 

You rub sleep from your eyes, catching Aaron's eyes in the mirror over his broad shoulders. You offer him a tired sort of smile.

“Come here,” he says. 

You do as he says. Aaron's getting dressed for work, and it's miraculous to have you up and out of bed before him considering how depressed you've been lately. Your abdomen presses to his.

“What are you going to do today?” he asks, wetting a washcloth in the sink. He feels the temperature of the water for a few seconds. 

“Um…” You close your eyes in preparation. “I have to shower. And I want to… make you dinner. So I'll do that.” He brings the washcloth to your face and rubs at your skin gently, little rivers of warm water creeping down your face and neck. “Is my appointment today?” 

“No, sweetheart. It's not until Tuesday.” He cleans your nose, your sleep-crusted lashes. “Why not have a bath? That way you can sit. You could bring your laptop in here and watch a movie.” 

“That…” You run out of steam as he wipes the last stretch of your cheek gently. 

If you can't manage a shower today, Aaron will help when he comes home. He never makes it seem like an obstacle or an imposition to help you through these things, treating it like any other hour of time spent together. “Dinner would be nice. But make sure you set the timer if you use the oven. I'll worry.” 

“Yeah.” 

He passes you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You squeeze it out onto the bristles as he sets about neatening your hair for the day, fingertips gentle on the soft skin of your hairline. You force the toothbrush into your mouth and start out slowly. You feel a disconnect between you and your actions, his touch the only tether, and every brush takes effort you don't have. 

“I didn't say good morning,” he says apologetically, rubbing your shoulders with some loving roughness. “How did you sleep?” 

Sleep is a big blob you don't have words for. “Good morning,” you say through toothpaste, leaning your face into his arm. 

He kisses whatever bit of your face he can reach. “Good morning.” 

“Sorry if I'm dirty.” 

“You aren't honey, you're fine. We just need to keep on top of it.” 

He pulls away to let you finish your half job, offering you a floss pick that you take on automatic but can't force yourself to use. It stays in your hand all the way to the breakfast table, where you get served sliced fruits and toast with chocolate spread. It's the kind with lots of calories, to keep you going if you can't manage your own lunch. Aaron makes you lunch most of the time if you can't do it yourself and leaves it in a tupperware in the fridge, but actually getting up to reheat it is another thing. You usually do it if your stomach aches but not otherwise. Already, you're wanting to go back to bed. Another day of letting him down. 

He gives you your medication divider, sipping at his own mug of coffee. “Jack's coming back tonight. Are you excited?” 

“So excited,” you say honestly. “Did he have a good time at, uh, Mason's?” 

“I think so. They went to Pizza Hut buffet. He said we have to go for his birthday.” He smiles at you from over the lip of his mug, eyes all manner of tender. “He asked if you're still sleeping.” 

“Don't let him worry about me,” you say, half-pleading. 

“No, I won't. You know I won't. He's just noticed you're not feeling your best, but it's not a bad thing. He wants to tuck you in.” 

“He said that?” 

Aaron nods with a smile. “He misses you when he doesn't see you.” 

“I miss him… I'm sorry. About all of this. I really…” You look down at your hands. Toast crumbs cling to your fingers, little white ants that catch hold when you attempt to shake them off. You wipe them in your pants. “I promise I'm trying.” 

He rounds the table. Takes your face into his hand, but doesn't force your head up. “That's not in question,” he says in his dulcet tone. “We want you to feel as good as you can. It doesn't matter how long it takes.” 

“I just want to be better.” I just want this feeling to be over. 

He hums into himself, his big hand a warm, steady thing where it covers your cheek. He's so solid. 

“Listen,” he says, bending to meet your eye. “Today, I only want you to do three things. Do you think you can do that? If you can't, I won't be mad, but I want you to try.” 

“Okay.” 

“Firstly, what you said about dinner? That sounds nice. Being active is good for you.” He measures your reaction. You've schooled your features into a determined seriousness that makes him smile. “Alright. Secondly, you take that nice long bath.” 

Your seriousness falters. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, don't be. It's not like that, sweetheart, I just want you to stay healthy, and to feel good about yourself. That's why I need you to eat lunch too.” 

“Is that the third thing?” 

“No, the third thing is to give me a kiss because I'm about to be late for work.” 

You tip your head up and he kisses you sweetly as always. You let him fawn and fret for a few minutes before he really has to leave, and then it's your fault he's late, calling him back in for a last hug. To be fair to you, it's a hug you really, really need. 

“Call me if you need to,” he says, his cheek against your temple. “I'll come home. I promise.” 

[simpinglittleshit-inactive]

Headcanons for when you're on your period - Sanji x in posession of a working uterus! Reader

This is self-indulgent and I'm going through it right now, so please bear with me. Also this takes place on the ship and in an established relationship between Reader and Sanji. Also english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

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

At first, you tried to hide it from him, but he quickly caught up to what was going on

His whole mood shifted, he was suddenly very calm and collected

You had expected the complete opposite, you thought he would fuss about you and fall to his knees and try to provide a thousand things at the same time to somehow force your period to be softer to you, maybe even get emotional about how you were hurting from the inside.

Instead he asked you what you needed in the moment, taking your hands gently into his and running soft circles into your skin. He left no room for debate until you really had told him everything you wanted in that moment, sitting patiently until he heard the hesitation leave your voice.

No matter if you demanded cuddles, a hot-water bottle, a combination of sweet and savoury snacks, a bath, some time alone or anything else- he makes sure you get it.

He'll make you any and every snack you ask for, letting you sit in the kitchen if you want to and quickly preparing some fruit slices and crackers for you to munch on while he prepares your request.

Even the oddest combination of flavours and textures are made by him without a word of judgement, understanding that you can't control what you want and just happy to be able to tend to your wants and needs.

Sanji will gladly do this multiple times a day and learns to recognize by the tone of your voice, the way you say his name, drawing the 'i' at the end of his name out just a little longer than usual, when you're in need of a quick treat.

At some point Luffy tries to fake having a period to sneak in some extra snacks as well and Sanji kicks him out of the kitchen, lecturing him on disrespecting your pain like that.

He also enjoys to hand-feed you fruits and snacks when you're in your quarters, pecking your lips after every other treat in adoration.

When you demand some time alone he lets you be by yourself until you come out on your own.

After a few months he gifts you a baby snail transponder so you can call him if you need anything and you are eternally grateful for it.

Of course he wants to be by your side every second, but you know best what you want and need and he's all sunshine and rainbows when he can wrap his arms around you again as soon as you let him.

He respects your desire to have some time to yourself and won't interefere with your me-time.

When you demand cuddles he gets all giddy on the inside, but won't let it show on the outside. Instead he'll place you on the nearest place to sit down on and make a little nest of blankets and pillows on your shared bed, if the time allows it.

If you're in public or just not in your quarters he'll hug and hold you until you pull away, one hand always placed somewhere on your body to keep you close to him

He'll grab some snacks - he keeps your favourites secretly locked away in the kitchen for this occasion and prepares several of your favourite drinks with different flavours and temperatures - from hot chocolate to freshly pressed lemonade with crushed ice and places them all on a tray.

To him, cuddling with you is an experience. He get to hold you, all to himself and it's him that you want while you're in pain and your hormones are all over the place.

It's an honor to him and he wants to honor you, as well as your aching organ. Because even though it brings you pain, to him it's also a sign that you're safe and healthy, that he can keep you well and cared for.

As soon as he has everything set up he picks you up and lays you down on the bed, letting you get comfortable and only then joining you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

He relishes in the feeling of having you near him, your scent, your warmth, even when you're grunting in pain.

His warm, slender hand finds your abdomen when you do so and is ever so gently placed above it, his lips finding your forehead as he melts into the moment with you, whispering words of adoration and love against your skin.

He holds you in his arms, both careful yet firm at the same time, his fingers threading softly through your hair. He reminds you how beautiful you are to him, how you're a walking goddess in his eyes, how he is the luckiest man alive to hold you in his arms, that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now than with you.

He holds you when you suddenly get emotional, bitches with you when you complain about all different kinds of things, listens to you when you rant about how much you hate everyone and everything and hand-feeds you the snacks he made as well as hand you all the different drinks he made while you talk.

He also enjoys the silence with you, just holding you and listening to the waves lapping at the wood of the ship, the gentle sway of it lulling you into a slumber after some time.

He only falls asleep with you after he made sure that you've fallen asleep first, reaching over your body to put away all the items that could disturb your rest and brushing away any crumbs from the pillows and blankets next to you - he'll properly dispose of them later, wanting to hold you in his arms as he drifts off.

As much as you are eternally grateful for how supportive he is of you and the lengths he goes to just to make you happy, he is eternally grateful to be there for you, letting him be the one to ease your pain and make these few torturous days more bearable for you.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

in fear of what awaits from @val-the-bun's AU, i dream up were-harpy Vaggie chaggie FLUFF to prepare myself

and also Razzle and Dazzle are here. whether they wanna be or not :D

Big scary harpy Vaggie repeatedly trying to “nest” Charlie’s little demon goats whenever Razzle and Dazzle show up to help Charlie with the whole “Giant Murder Bird Monster” situation

First time she lunged at them Charlie’s heart STOPPED

bc Razzle and Dazzle are hellborn they won't pull themselves back together if torn apart and why didn't Charlie think of that and does harpy Vaggie know that and is she about to kill th-

Nope!

Charlie’s weird new roommate grabs Dazzle by the scruff of his neck fur and shoves him deep into the pillow nest she spent two hours arranging Just So

Then harpy Vaggie chases Razzle around the room until she can do the same with HIM

By that point Dazzle had climbed free and when harpy Vaggie saw him escaping she SCREECHED and fluffed up

and THIS time after stuffing him back in the nest, she also herded Charlie over to “sit” on him

This was needed bc Razzle had taken the chance to escape too, taking off with a lot more speed than his brother, vanishing into the rest of the house while harpy Vaggie was busy

If he was hoping for out of sight out of mind he was wrong

Harpy Vaggie scents the air and goes hunting after him, making low soothing “coo” sounds and the occasional frustrate  SQUAWK when the “chick” keeps running away from her

Charlie relaxes in the nest with Dazzle, heart rate slowly returning to normal, smiling in relief at the noise of harpy Vaggie crashing into things and breaking stuff somewhere in the house during her determined pursuit of Snuggle Times

A grumpy Razzle is finally brought to the nest clamped FIRMLY in Vaggie’s jaws (not a scratch on him) (plenty on Vaggie though, feathers ruffled from getting hit with falling debris)  

And as Harpy Vaggie shoves her prisoner into the pillows before sitting over him (again very firmly) (sulking Razzle only kept in place by her weight while Dazzle snoozes peacefully under Charlie’s arm) Charlie risks reaching up to scratch the ridge of feathers over harpy Vaggie’s eye, making the demon bird monster slowly droop and fall over with head landing in Charlie’s lap

Charlie could get used to this~

She thinks, until Vaggie starts trying to FEED the “demon goat baby chicks”, and breaks out of a window to go eviscerate a sinner for their dinner

The sinner wouldn’t have minded so much

(vaggie swooped in from behind and made it quick so they honestly felt more surprise than pain)

but harpy Vaggie also insisted on taking their liver away with her afterwards

Charlie had leaped through the broken window after her, chased her down on hoof half way across the pride ring, and then spent half an hour trying to get her bird monster roommate to stop sticking her head into the sinners ribcage rummaging around for treats and come home already

Charlie did NOT have the energy to argue about the organ theft, but promised the sinner they’d return it soon

back home, harpy Vaggie tried feeding the liver to Charlie’s “kids”, getting more and more anxious and wound up each time they refused

Charlie’s solution was to plead for her plushie demon friends’ cooperation in a very gory stage magic trick

Razzle and Dazzle glumly pretend to ‘eat’ the organ, letting Charlie scoop it up and yeet it out the window while harpy Vaggie preened in satisfaction before stuffing the “chicks” back in the nest again

This horrified the Charlie, since harpy Vaggie was still covered in blood and gore

Charlie: “Noooooo no no no, Vaggie! Ew! We need to clean you up first before snuggle t- UGH NO DON’T LICK THE BLOOD OFF YOURSELF!!”

Sadly, giant bird monsters do not fit into your average sized bathroom for showers and scrubbies

So annoyed harpy Vaggie was herded up onto the roof by Charlie while Razzle and Dazzle connected the gardening hose

Charlie: “Oh stop hissing, I made the water the same temperature as a the, ugh, blood spray from earlier. You’ll be FINE.”

Harpy Vaggie: (clacks jaws and starts biting at the water)

Charlie: “That’s fine too. I literally don’t care HOW we do this as long as you Don't get guts all over the freshly washed pillow nest the moment Razzle and Dazzle take them out of the dryer.”

Harpy Vaggie: (SCREECH)

Charlie: “Look I’m SORRY we took apart your nest and you’ll have to spend forever getting it just right again-"

Harpy Vaggie: (SCREECH AGAIN)

Charlie: "I'm sorry! But I am NOT snuggling up with fresh bloodstains, Vaggie!”

Harpy Vaggie: (hissssss)

Charlie: “No! Now let’s scrub your talons so we can get this over with an dry YOU off!”

One traumatic failed attempt at using the hair dryer on Vaggie’s many, MANY soaking wet feathers later...

Demon Charlie: “HOLY SHIT IM JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!!!”

Harpy Vaggie: (CAW) (CAW) (C- coo?)

Demon Charlie: “WHAT?” (deep breath) “What is it? The hair dryer not so terrifying after all?”

Harpy Vaggie: (edges closer)

Demon Charlie: “It’s okay, see? It won’t hurt- Hey!”

Harpy Vaggie: (snags hair dryer in jaws and bashes it to the ground)

Demon Charlie: “Fuck! Vaggieeee- Now how are we going to get you dry!? You’ll be miserable and wet all night like this!”

Demon Charlie: “…are you cuddling up to my angry hell fire flames, Vaggie.”

Harpy Vaggie: (coo)

Demon Charlie: “The hair dryer is too scary and has to die, but my literal demonic hellfire is nice and good for snuggling with? Really?”

Harpy Vaggie: (starts preening)

Demon Charlie: “I’d think that was so sweet, if my hair drying hadn’t just been killed before my eyes.”

Harpy Vaggie: (starts trying to preen charlie)

Demon Charlie: “Aww okay okay!” (laughs) “It’s cute even with the wanton destruction of personal property~ And I’m VERY honored to be your preferred method of getting all warm and fluffy again~”  

Next harpy time, Charlie boarded up all the windows and rigged a box of donuts up with some decoy clothes and string so she could make it “run” down the hallway while harpy Vaggie pounced on it

(both had been Vaggie’s ideas, once she heard what happened with the liver incident)

And while harpy Vaggie looked a bit confused at the meal she brought back to the pillow nest

(why did the guts smell and taste like raspberry jelly???)

seeing Razzle and Dazzle dig into the offering so hungrily made her puff up again with satisfaction, which made Charlie breathe a sigh of relief and then laugh too, and from then on a pretty comfortable routine for harpy nights got established

(and if normal Vaggie was once caught sandwiching a piece of very rare steak between two donut halves as a snack, well, it probably wasn’t the worst thing hell had ever seen)

(probably)        

Charlie really likes her weird new sinner roommate anyway~

(Vaggie stays awake at night after each de-harpy-ing, finding herself snuggled up with the princess of the people her every instinct is telling her to go back to killing and wonders if not being loose on the streets of hell regularly doing more murder is enough to balance out receiving so much kindness from the last person who should ever have to show her any)

(the person who would be fully justified in throwing her out or keeping her locked in a cage if she was ever told the truth of that Vaggie is- was- is no matter how hard she tries not to be-)

(coward. selfish)

(she wants to help Charlie redeem sinners)

(she'll be putting those sinners in danger of their immortal lives if she lives anywhere near them)

(except... when Charlie's there, making her feel safe instead of bloodthirsty...

(... maybe she can be safe to be around)

(maybe keeping quiet is her only way to have a chance to do something good for a change)

(she tells Charlie in the morning that it was being in harpy mode that wore her out so much, and left her with a smile so sad)

[schrodinger-swriter]

Can I request a sequel to the egg boi mom thing where Pentious is taking care of his S/O who has a really bad stomach bug and the egg children are worried.

My stomach has been dying for two days.

Sir Pentious and the Egg Boiz w/ a Sick!Motherly!Reader

I hope your stomach feels better soon! Stomach aches/bugs suck bumbum..

You can find the post being referred to right here! Though I don't think you will need to read that post for this one to make sense!

Glad to hear that everyone enjoyed that post, by the by! I feel like I could have done more but I have mommy issues so idk what moms do/j/lh

Anywho, I hope you enjoy, Anon! C:

The egg boiz gather around your bed, waiting for you to ask them for something. Anything. They don't want to leave your side, but they want to make sure that you get exactly what you need... or want.. as soon as possible! They only move for Sir Pentious, when he comes in with some soup.

Speaking of, I think Sir Pentious is a... so-so cook! He's not terrible, and he can follow recipes fairly well! It's just... well sometimes he can get a little... inventive with ideas. Sometimes he deviates if he feels he can make improvements to the dish. The good news it, he is very stiff with instructions when it comes to making something for his sick partner, out of fear he would make the illness worse! He would spoon feed you... oh and don't think he's going to forget getting you your fluids! He's going to make sure you stay hydrated! In fact he probably assigns one of the eggs to water duty!

If you're cold the eggs start fighting over who gets to give you a spare blanket, or if you need an extra pillow they'd do the same. They follow behind you in a loose cluster when you pull yourself out of bed to go to the bathroom... on the chance you have a rush of energy to rush to the bathroom to throw up but immediately lose the ability to move after... they're going to carry you to bed. Kind of like that one scene from one of the original Spiderman movies, where they're carrying Peter... Forgot which film it was from.. "Carefully he's a hero" meme.

Pentious wants more than anything to hold you, but he won't.. for two reasons. One, he risks getting sick himself.. and while the idea doesn't sound too bad, it means he can risk spreading it to everyone else in the hotel... the other reason is due to him being cold blooded, he doesn't want to steal what little heat you have away from your body. Speaking of temperature, Pentious keeps on top of that via thermometer. He heart does a little skip whenever your temperature changes even one degree. In joy if it goes down, in worry if it goes up.

The eggs take shifts in the night to make sure you don't need anything. They have an entire shift system... it's actually a little endearing that they care this much...

[after-hours-art]

Cocoa with a little bit of love

Pairing: Blair Waldorf x f!reader

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentioning of ED (bulimia)

Blair's favourite season passed for sure when one November morning snow started falling down from the sky. Relatively bright day goes by with the aura of snowflakes lazily dancing in the air, getting stuck to hair, eyelashes, scarves, and coats of students of Constance and St Jude's as they are hurrying into the building away from minus temperatures. You, however, enjoy snow. Not the coldness itself, but for you, there's no better thing to do in winter than curl up in a blanket by the window with a good book in one hand and hot cocoa in another. As a matter of fact, you're sure maid at your apartment already settled such cosy space for you in the living room. Your daydreaming stops when suddenly sometimes hits your shoulder, almost knocking you off the stairs.

- Don't just stare into nowhere, Y/N. Someone might hurt you.

You smile under your nose, hearing the commanding voice of Blair's. Her dirty pink coat looks lovely with the navy scarf wrapped around her neck as she visibly shivers. You can't stop corners of your lips from lifting a little when few snowflakes tangle in her hair. God, she's so beautiful it hurts. You look at her, up and down. As much as you're sure those tights of hers are with warmers inside, you can't help but worry.

- You cold? - you ask. Blair looks at you as if you just offended her.

- No. I'm fine. M-move it. - she scoffs, rushing past you to get into the building. You shake your head and sigh, slowly following her inside.

//

You enter the girl's bathroom in a hurry. Last class's PE completely messed up your hair and makeup. Or maybe that's simply a karma that you got for being overcompetitive while playing volleyball? You sigh, brushing your hair, praying that you won't look like a mess for the rest of the day. After some fighting with wet from sweat hair, you manage to look decent. As you adjust your makeup, the bell rings. You groan and keep focusing on your ruined lipstick. You pop your lips a couple of times to spread lip gloss evenly when suddenly you hear disturbing noises from the last toilet cabin. I swallow nervously, not sure what to do. You step a little closer, your heartbeat increasing in anxiety. Not every day you heard someone throw up at school. You swallow nervously. Being a rather fearful person, you are reacting in crucial moments like accidents or emotional troubles aren't your strong front. You pack up your cosmetics to the small makeup bag and shove it in your school bag. Throwing up noises turn into sobs when you pick up courage to step closer to the cabin. You knock on the door.

- H-hey... you okay? - you ask hesitantly, not trying to imply anything. It could've just been someone feeling sick. Viruses are around it time of the year, aren't they?

- I'm fine. Go away.

Your eyes open wider when you recognise the voice from the other side of the cabin, despite how breathy and shaking it is at the moment. You take a deep breath and sit on the bathroom floor, your back against one of the toilet cabins.

- You're not okay... We can talk if you want to. - you say quietly, hoping that you'll be encouraging enough for her to open up. You hear the sound of water being flashed, followed by the girl sitting down on the other side of the door, her shoes hitting the stone floor. The bathroom falls silent for a longer while, interrupted only by quiet sobs of the girl.

- I told you that I'm fine. Go snoop in someone else's business. - her voice turns more harsh and demanding. The lock on the door clicks, and she steps out of the cabin. Her Hermes bag drops on the floor when she sees you sitting on the bathroom floor. Blair Waldorf in all her downfall - tears caused by forced vomiting ruined her foundation, her eyes are red as well as her cheeks.

- Y-Y/N... - she stutters. You look up at her, standing up from the floor. You've never seen her this broken. She looks like one of those porcelain dolls that will shatter the second you touch her.

- Blair... - you start gently, your voice unsure even more than hers. - Are you... okay?

You know she didn't have the best Thanksgiving. You were there to witness it yourself. Her father didn't come, and it hurted her enough that he and her mother divorced and he went to live with his male lover in France, but not coming to a holiday that she considered theirs really stung her delicate heart. As much as Blair refuses to admit it, she is one of the more vulnerable people in her friend circle.

- I'm fine. - she says and walks over to the mirror, taking a small toothbrush out of her makeup bag and brushing her teeth. As if she literally planned to return her lunch.

- Blair... - you say gently, but she ignores you. Pretending that you're not here is easier. Noone knew about her... issues. Well, Serena did. But then she decided to vanish to boarding school. Her mother knew too, yet she had too much on her plate with Waldorf Designs to address the issue in more ways than just providing therapy for her daughter. And it helped. For a while. Yet, every time she lost sense of control over the situation, her bulimic tendencies relapses. And right now... Blair Waldorf is out of control for past two weeks.

- I'm fine, Y/N. - she says, her voice slowly turning back to normal through it's still little horase. You walk up to her and put hand on her shoulder, carefully tucking lose hair behind her ear.

- Blair... wanna go to my place? - you ask hesitantly. Classes will be finished in two hours and... missing two classes isn't a crime. Still, she looks at you as if you suggested murder. That's no surprise, there's no more perfect student than Blair Waldorf at Constance. However, now she nods.

- Okay. This one time.

//

Ride to your apartment passes in silence. Neither you nor Blair say anything. She looks like a beaten up puppy, looking outside the window at the streets. Your fingers grip tighly on the edge of your skirt. You're so not good in all the emotional stuff yet your best friend needs you. The girl you... like needs you. You swallow your discomfort and finally manage to speak.

- You... do you want to talk about it? - you ask hesitantly, your eyes never leaving her. You feel your heart break for her, seeing her so different than usually. It is almost unnatural to see Blair struggle with something. She always seems so perfect and put together. Who would've guessed that it's only a facade that she puts up to cope with emotions?

- I don't... - she says. - And don't ask again. Today never happened.

You stare blankly at her, trying to understand why she's so harsh with you when you're trying to help. You reach your hand to her, resting it on her thigh. Soon her hand lands on yours, letting you gently squeeze her fingers in reassuring grip. You feel how cold her hands are, almost as cold as silver ring on her finger. She doesn't look at you, stubbornly keeping her gaze on the streets that your car passes. Fate wanted it, your driver took earlier turn making the ride longer. You keep your eyes on her, studying her features. Her deep brown eyes, her, now little fuzzy from humidity caused by snow, brown hair. Pink headband, innocently matching her winter coat. You fight the urge to kiss her, to pull her close and reassure her that she's perfect even when she trips. But you don't do anything, too afraid that you'll scare her off losing both - friend and secret crush.

//

Your maid - Celia - looks surprised seeing you home so soon yet she doesn't say anything. She already got on your mom's bad side for setting the table with wrong set for important event and since that she tried to keep away from troubles. Your family paid too much to lose this job. You hand her your coats.

- Come. I promise you'll like it. - you say, pulling unwilling girl behind you. You two make your way into the living room, greeted by huge dog. You smile when Blair let go of your hand and begin to pet the Weimaraner. You can't help but chuckle when your dog starts licking her face. He always liked her.

- Come on! - you smile, pulling now laughing Waldorf, to your cosy nook by the window. You invite her to sit on the couch by the window on fluffy white blanket.

- Wait here. - you say, and walk away. In the kitchen you start preparing your signature cocoa, a good quality cocoa powder with bit of cinnamon, orange aroma and marshmallows. With two mugs in hands you make your way back to the living room.

- What's that? - she asks hesitantly when you carefully hand her pink mug.

- Cocoa with a little bit of love. - you say, smiling. White and pink heart-shaped marshmallows float on the chocolate surface.

- Y/N... - she starts but seeing your stern glare, she shuts up.

- Blair. Please. I want to do something nice for you. And... and I don't know... I just guessed that you'd want some warmth. With... everything happening around last month. I didn't get to see you often and I meant to ask... how are you doing.

- Are you pretending because you saw me puke today? - she scoffs, not believing your intentions.

- What? No. No.

- Don't fool me, Y/N. You're not a minion. Nor we're super close in terms of friendship.

Your enthusiasm decreases a little. Accusations that you have underlying motive to get her to open up hurt.

- I'm not fooling you, Blair. - you start to defend yourself, sipping on your cocoa. - I'm honestly worried. Even before... bathroom thing. You became so much quieter this year. And since Serena left for boarding school. You're not that close with Nate anymore. Please. I want to help you. - you put hand over hers, praying that she won't pull away. And she doesn't. She looks like a kicked puppy.

- I'm not copying well. My mom didn't invite my dad for Thanksgiving. I... blew out of proportion and ate the whole pie. Like really... whole thing. I just... - she pauses and hesitantly takes sip of her beverage. - I lost control over everything. And what hurted the most was that I couldn't tell anyon-

- You could've tell me. - you interrupt her, squeezing her hand a little, your voice soaked with mix of honesty and desperation. Desperation to be the person she'd go for if she's sad, troubled, happy. To be her person.

She looks at you confused.

- I barely knew you then. I mean... less than over past three months, that's for sure.

- I... - you swallow realising that you're overstepping a boundary. You take a sip of you cocoa, marshmallows melting in your mouth.

- I wanted to be there for you I just didn't know how. - you admit after few moments of silence. Blair's gaze softens but only so little.

- It's fine. You wanted good. It's much better than anyone else did for me for the last months. - she says, taking a sip of cocoa. - With Serena gone and Nate acting... not like Nate, I actually felt lonely lately. So lonely, I considered venting to Chuck. - she chuckles at her own misery. You chuckle too, trying to fight off her bad mood with some humour. After all... grotesque exists for a reason. You smile at each other for a moment. You sigh, fighting the urge to cup her cheeks. She's so beautiful, perfect, and now is on your blanket at your home, sipping on your cocoa. Is it too much to ask to see her like that every day?

- I'll listen to you. - you say softly. - I promise. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. We can talk or not talk. I can .ake you cocoa or we can bake together. I don't want you to feel hopeless anymore. And I don't want you to force vomiting. It's not good for you. - you add. - You don't need to restrict food to look perfect, be approved by your mom and such. You're already a masterpiece and... if your mom can't see it, if Nate can't see it, then they both mist be blind. - you state confidently, putting your mug away. Blair's eyes shine with something. Something like hope mixed with tears. She rarely allowed herself to feel strong emotions, always trying to be in check. Yet now she lowered her guard down.

- Thanks, Y/N... - she says, finishing her cocoa, not admitting that it's the first sweet thing she had since that infamous Thanksgiving's pie. Nor she admits that she can taste love in it.

- You're welcome. Now talk... I want to hear it all. - you smile, resting against pillows. Blair smiles and sits next to you, her head resting on your shoulder. She starts hesitantly, not used to opening up, yet it takes only a few moments to let her story unfold. You listen to her, holding her hand the whole time, making mental notes on each thing.

The snow behind the window dances in the air, and the temperature inside the apartment keeps you both warm and cosy. Sun starts to set, even though it's merely 4pm, but that's the beauty of winter. You listen to Blair's venting for two hours now. Who would have thought that it would take two hours, 4 mugs of cocoa with marshmallows and a blanket in cosy nook to help someone settle with their emotions, even when you're not greatest supporter or not most sympathetic person?

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People (Platonic)

Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.

Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!

You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.

Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.

You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.

An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.

So, now you were even more screwed then before.

The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.

You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.

"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.

You hear the person outside cringe.

"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."

"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.

"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.

"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.

You just blink at her.

"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."

You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.

She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.

"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.

"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.

"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."

You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.

You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"

"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."

You hum, "how you finding up here?"

"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."

You chuckle. She smiles.

"Thank you for not trying to kill me."

You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."

"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."

You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."

"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."

"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"

"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."

You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.

"You're not crazy like that other man."

She's blunt, you'll give her that.

"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.

She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."

"What'd he do?"

"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"

"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."

"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.

Her own canteen.

You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.

"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."

"But, that other man --"

"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."

"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.

You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.

You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.

"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."

You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."

She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."

You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.

You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.

"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.

"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.

You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.

"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"

"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."

"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."

She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"

She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."

You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.

"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.

"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.

"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.

"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.

"Once or twice when passing through," you say.

"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.

"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.

It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.

It was nice to not be alone anymore.

Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.

An actual friend from the outside.

She's glad.

And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.

Lucy had just met her best friend.

You had met yours.

Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...

Part 2

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Things Inupiaq culture doesn't traditionally have:

Kings/royalty (requiring tribute from the people you lead is seen as tyranical and tyrants are killed when possible)

A cash economy (dentallium shells were valued by many other cultures and sometimes were used as money in international trade, but not among fellow Inupiat)

Agriculture (we are traditionally a hunter-gatherer people seasonally following the herds, fish, and ripening greens and berries)

Corporal punishment (you aren't even supposed to yell at people or even scold children)

Slavery (you could argue this one since women were sometimes captured and taken as wives; but this is typically regarded as an ancient and morally questionable practice. The Inupiat didn't believe in owning people or their labor, only at best associating through marriage, blood relation, or wife-exchange)

Primogeniture as a hard-fast rule (Inupiat culture was traditionally patriarchal so a son may inherit his father's status as a family patriarch if he is already a father at this time, but material inheritence was not guaranteed to work that way)

A written language (historians were assigned to memorize records, family trees, and the like)

Human or animal sacrifices (would be considered cruel and wasteful)

Formal vs informal language (socio-economic class is mutable and does not affect language)

Gendered pronouns (our language uses pronouns to indicate tone of a sentence the way many languages use pronunciation, as well as relationship between subject and object in complex sentences and in all cases whether the subject is singular, dual, or plural and if the sentence is in first, second, or third person. An absolute fuckton of pronouns and none of them are gendered)

Raw meat taboo (except in the case of pregnancy; the arctic climate means the weather was not too far off from refrigerator or freezer temperatures, if not colder, and underground storage was often placed around frozen methane deposits known as permafrost)

Dog meat taboo (dogs were helpful as beasts of burden or sometimes hunting companions but when there's a famine you gotta eat what you can)

Many ceremonies taken for granted (for example, if a man and woman mutually agreed they were married, that was the only wedding required. We had big celebrations for survival, and women got incredible face tattoos for coming of age, but many lifestages were celebrated more low-key with little pomp and circumstance)

Shirts (you didn't wear anything underneath your atigi, and if it was too warm for it, you took it off. Yes, even women. Presbyterian missionaries thought we were godless sluts for our tits out ways)

Virginity marriage requirement (it was best if a woman hadn't had sex before but only because we lived in small communities and you have to keep track of bloodlines. Having sex didn't make girls unclean or impure and unwed mothers were taken care of by their families and weren't stigmatized)

Required monogomy (men could have multiple wives and women could have multiple husbands, wife exchange was a means of fostering allegiance, and the main problem with cheating is that it involved lying and prioritizing pleasure over duties like making sure your husband doesn't fall to his death while hunting. In stories about cheating and revenge, the cheater and retaliating jealous partner are both depicted as in the wrong)

There are more, but these i feel provide a pretty good basic idea of the culture. You can use these bits of info as Water Tribe worldbuilding inspo if you want, but i won't pester you into it. I just think my culture is neat and wanted to share ^-^