#pebbles I wouldn’t trade you for anything

[waspgrave]

Playing kingdom come deliverance 2 and the fact that simply staying loyal and believing in your shitty first horse named PEBBLES rewards you with amazing stats for her makes me so happy. Even despite her shitty stats, I was willing to be ride or die for her, let people insult how mean and ugly she is, and lose every race bc of my faith in her and now I learn she’ll become a god of horses if I continue traveling with her? Game of the year. For Miss Pebbles, the best horsey

[saddleups]

hi it’s me again who requested the video tape!! thank you for that and i loved it 🫦

it’s so hot to imagine james being a single father… he adopts laura after the leave ending, idk it makes me so 🤸‍♀️ imagining james as a single father. and gentle morning sex. that’s also cute!

-🧚‍♀️

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 1.7k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . just sweet vanilla sex <3 p_rn w/o a plot !

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . omg hello !! i'm glad you liked it , i had a lot of fun with it and i kinda , sorta wanna do a second part lol. your mind for the gentle morning sex ?? gentle and intimate with heavy eye contact ... sedate me

The first light of dawn spills softly through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. As the first light dances over your face, your lashes flutter, and a quiet groan slips from your lips. You stir, feeling the familiar warmth of James pressed behind you, his arm draped over your waist in a protective hold.

Reluctantly, you crane your neck to check the time, only to realize it’s early. Much too early. The small shift of your body stirs him, and you feel his hand flex around you as he starts to wake.

“Sorry, hun,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“’S’fine,” James responds, his voice a low, drowsy rumble. “I needed to get up early anyway to drop Laura off at school.”

You let out a soft laugh, barely more than a whisper, “Like, six a.m. early?”

A quiet groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls you just a little closer, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your side. “Maybe not,” he admits, voice softened by sleep, as if savoring this rare moment.

James nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. These moments, so rare and precious, were hard to come by with a child running through the house, always lurking around, popping up at the most inconvenient times.

A little nuisance, sure—but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. In this quiet sliver of dawn, with only the sound of his breathing and the faint hum of morning outside, you tasted a fleeting slice of domesticity.

His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck. You tilt your hed to the side, giving him better access, James takes full advantage. He peppers your skin with soft kisses, leaving you breathless. The friction of his stubble against your skin is a delicious mix of roughness and tenderness, making you arch into him.

"James," you breathe, your hands instinctively reaching back to grip his forearm. The heat between you is palpable, a silent promise of the passion that always seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. "Do you have to get up?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You shake your head, even though he can't see it, lost in the sensation of his lips moving lower, tracing a path down your shoulder.

"No," you reply, your own voice catching in your throat. "Not yet."

His hand moves higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The simple touch sends a wave of pleasure through you, making your nipples pebble instantly. He teases one with his thumb, the friction electric against your sensitized flesh.

"Mmm," you moan softly, turning your head to capture his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a green blaze that promises so much more than this fleeting moment. It's a look that speaks volumes, one that says he wants you as desperately as you want him.

James leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The connection is immediate and powerful, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours in a dance as old as time. Your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly as if made for each other. His free hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you even closer, the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against your thigh.

You break the kiss, gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "James," you whisper again, this time with a hint of urgency. "We shouldn't..."

He silences you with another kiss, this one softer, almost reverent. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips. "We just have to be quiet," he says with a hint of playfulness.

Encouraged, you scoot closer, your body pressing against him. Your breath hitches as your thigh brushes against his hardening length.

"James," you whisper, voice barely audible.

He just looks at you, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something. But then his gaze drops to your lips, and the intensity in his eyes makes your heart race.

"Please," you whisper, almost begging now. "Take me."

His breath catches, and you feel his entire body tense up for a moment before he exhales slowly. His hand moves from your cheek to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulls you closer. He kisses you then, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks volumes without words.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with need. "Are you sure?" he asks, voice low and rough.

You nod again, your fingers gripping his arm tightly. He shifts slightly, turning so that he’s half on his side, facing you. The straps of your nightgown have come undone. James' slips his hand down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your already hard nipple. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you let out a small gasp.

"Quiet," he reminds you, but there’s no reprimand in his tone. Only concern and affection.

You bite your lip, nodding once more. He leans in, capturing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

Your hand travels down to his erection, wrapping your fingers around him. He’s hot and hard in your hand, and you squeeze gently, eliciting a low groan from him.

"God, you’re so beautiful," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "So perfect."

Your heart swells at his praise, and you move your hand, stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. He closes his eyes, his head falling back as he revels in the sensation. But you want more, need more. You guide his hand down to your entrance, where your arousal is already slick and ready.

He hesitates for a moment, looking into your eyes as if seeking reassurance. You give him a small, encouraging smile, and he dips one finger inside you. The sensation is intense, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He curves his finger, finding that sweet spot inside you, and you feel your body clenching around him.

"Fuck, you’re so wet," he mutters, his voice strained. "So wet for me."

You nod, unable to form words, your focus entirely on the way his finger feels moving inside you. He adds a second finger, spreading you open, stretching you. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

"James," you gasp, your hips bucking against his fingers. "I want more."

He removes his fingers, only to replace them with his cock. He pushes inside you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch is delicious, overwhelming, and you grip the sheets beneath you, trying to stay quiet. He pauses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t look away."

You obey, your eyes locked onto his as he positions himself above you. The thin veil of sheets that once shielded you both falls away, exposing your bodies to the powerful heat emanating from James.

As he traps you between his arms, your legs instinctively part wider for him, begging for more. With a smirk, James teases your slick entrance with the head of his throbbing cock, relishing in the sight of your wetness mingling with his own precum. "Beautiful," he whispers lowly before plunging into you once again, claiming you entirely.

James starts to move, thrusting slowly and deliberately. Each stroke of his cock fills you completely, the sensation building and building until it’s almost too much to bear. He watches you intently, his expression a mix of love and raw desire.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Feel it, baby. Feel how good this is. How good we are together."

His words push you closer to the edge, and you feel the orgasm coiling deep inside you. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, and you’re trembling all over. He speeds up, his thrusts becoming more urgent, deeper. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he fucks you.

"Yes, yes," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Oh God, James, I’m going to come."

"Let go," he urges. "Come for me. Let me see you fall apart."

The command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out softly as the orgasm rips through you. Your body spasms, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the wave of pleasure. He continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release, his breathing ragged.

"I’m close," he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. "So close."

You reach between you, wrapping your hand around his cock where it meets your entrance, pumping him in time with his thrusts. The added friction sends him spiraling over the edge, and he groans your name as he comes, his seed filling you.

He collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. For a moment, neither of you moves, lost in the afterglow of your combined climaxes. Finally, he lifts himself off you slightly, his eyes still locked on yours.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Mhmn, thank you baby."

He leans down, kissing you softly, his tongue flicking against yours. The kiss is tender, almost reverent, and it leaves you breathless. As he pulls back, he gives you one last, lingering look before rolling off you and pulling you into his arms.

"Sleep now," he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead. "We’ll talk later."

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished. The dawn light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Then you hear it, right outside the hall. "Hey! Where's breakfast?"

It's Laura, you turn to him and chuckle. James sighs, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he mutters, “Guess our peace and quiet's up.”

You chuckle, whispering back, “Think we can get away with pretending we’re still asleep?”

He gives a low, tired laugh, “Tempting. But knowing her, she’ll barge right in.”

Right on cue, Laura’s voice rings louder, impatience growing. “Hellooo? I’m starving in here!”

James groans playfully, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright! We’re coming!”

You share a small, conspiratorial smile before he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, muttering, “Let’s face the little monster.”

[anglingforlevels]

Through the Mountains (Paranormal Investigator Reader x Yan!Creatures)

A small concept blurb about a paranormal investigator that attracts the supernatural. Reader is honestly having such a good time doing it that they’ve thrown the horror genre out of the story.

CW: Death, Light Body Horror, Not Proof-Read, Not really a story just a concept, Yandere (more suggested than shown in this), monsterfuckery, Reader's morality is dubious at best.

Minors DNI

Humans have always been both fearful and drawn by the unknown, looking to the vastness of space or the depths of the oceans. But we know very little about the earth we stand on – hidden in creaks and shadows, or sometimes even plainly in sight, lies the unknown, beckoning us forth.

And you have never been one to ignore a call.

Already from an early age, you had noticed things, oddities that set themselves apart from what others believed to be possible or real. You didn’t particularly believe in magic, anything could be magic as long as it was unknown, but you didn’t care much to unveil the science of these oddities either, you were simply enthralled by what you didn’t know.

And the unknown seemed enthralled by you as well.

From the curious pebble-figures there’d wander through the gardens to move rocks – and who had left many small presents for you to slithering and clicking creatures there’d cling to your shadow, melting it to the ground so that you were forced to stay.

All manners of creatures, from harmless to terrifying to downright confusing, flocked to you, which was perfect for someone with your enthusiasm. It was obvious you’d make use of this to study them in full, traveling around with your notebooks and gear, hoping to study a new oddity every day.

Some days were more difficult than others, some creatures more persistent than others. You were much flimsier than they were, happy to fly from one thing to the other, it was the way you preferred. One oddity was far from enough, you needed to see everything the world had to offer. They were much more content with just you, and rarely willing to let you go on your merry way.

Alas, as someone setting out to be an expert in this field, you welcomed the challenge. It only meant that you had to be thorough in learning about the creatures, as to foil their attempts at keeping you, so it wasn’t much more than further encouragement to you.

Besides, it was a fair trade-off for getting the chance to meet them to begin with.

You were tracking through the mountain forests presently, returning from the peak of the mountain, which you had visited to get some good readings and pictures of the place to better understand the habitat of the oddities who made this place their home. Though the equipment was heavier than you cared for, thus you had hired a helping hand from the local town at the foot of the mountain.

Tally, a fit twenty-something that had wanted the extra cash and had the needed youthful hubris to disregard the warnings of their elders, who had grown up with the tales of dangerous monsters and disappearing trekkers in the mountains. They had shrugged it off as old wives tales, and you were grateful for that, because every other young adult you had asked, had assumed it was wild animals.

They wouldn’t go far in life with that attitude, but you appreciated it greatly.

“How are you so familiar with the mountains?” Tally asked, as you decisively led the two of you through the terrain. It was a fair question, there was no man-made paths here, after all, people did tend to go missing in the mountains.

“Oh, I’ve been here before, but I usually never bothered with the village beyond restocking. But I needed extra muscle this time around.” You explained while fiddling with some of the pictures from the instant camera you also had brought along.

“See,” Tally said with a satisfied smile, “I knew all those stories were bu-“

You shushed them. “No swearing, remember?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Force of habit.” Tally apologized. When you had hired them, one of your set rules was no swearing in the mountains. “So, what exactly have you been studying since you visited here? Is there some kind of animal native to this mountain or something?”

“I don’t know about native, but most of them have probably been here longer than your village at least. At least, that’s what suggested by the stories your town tell.” You weren’t really paying much attention till you realized Tally had stopped up.

They groaned. “Stories? Don’t tell me you’re here to look for monsters.”

“Of course not.” You waved your hand dismissively, earning a sigh of relief from Tally. “I’ve already found them, well, most of them I’m guessing. I just wanted to know a bit more about their living habitat, I may not look it, but I’m a professional.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve been told that jokes aren’t my strong suit, so no.” You simply said, growing a little impatient at the fact Tally still wasn’t walking.

“Right… If these things were real, don’t you think you’d be dead by now.” It was a fair point, albeit Tally’s dry delivery hurt a little.

“Most of the things in this mountain only act if provoked, besides, they like me. Death is usually the only thing I don’t have to worry about, they usually try to take me rather than my life. But I’m very good at what I do, I don’t mess up, so I always manage.” At this, Tally lifted an eyebrow, looking perplexed and completely unconvinced.

” So, if you slip up, even once, you might be taken by any given one of these so-called "monsters"?"

“The quotation marks hurt a bit but yes. But what other choice do I have but to continue? Either risk being whisked away eternally to the obsessive whims of creatures who work on moral and biological systems beyond humanity’s ken or not go looking for weird creatures?”

“…See, that sounds like a very easy dilemma.”

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“This is so fucking dumb.” They sighed.

“Ah,” you sighed with a troubled smile, “Swearing is off limit in this forest, remember?”

“Huh? Uh, sorry it was a- grh!” They let out a pained grunt, their eyes traveling down to their legs, where something beneath their skins were rapidly crawling up their legs. They fell to the ground, howling in pain.

“Yeah, the thing in this forest really took that youth pamphlet about not doing drugs or swearing to heart, it considers swearing a sign of hostility.” You explained though they did not seem very interested in what you had to say.

“Do something!”

You scratched your neck awkwardly. You did feel bad, it looked very painful to watch small bulges and bony finger push against their skin, traveling upward their bodies. But… “It’s contagious at this point, I don’t want that thing in my body. Trust me, even when it’s not trying to kill, it’s a hassle.”

If they had a response to that, they never got a chance to say it, as their eyeballs were pushed out of their head and bony, tree-like fingers poked through their cheeks and mouth. They collapsed on the ground, the gear they had been carrying clattering to the ground.

“Guess this means I’m carrying all of this back myself.”

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Eleven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

Tom was displeased — not an uncommon occurrence. He was displeased with how familiar he’d come to be with the hotel and its surroundings, the lobby, the little restaurant, and how he knew by heart its every corner and the menu and the waiters. He was not a restless sort of person — on the contrary, he could lie in wait for a long time if needed — but it did disturb him how settled he now was in that muggle hotel.

He’d been picking at his breakfast since 6:30 AM. In fact, he’d been the first guest to arrive. By now it was nearly eight, and he had to be at Casa Ur by nine. His job…

He wasn’t suffering from a lack of appetite, not that he’d ever really had one. Living in an orphanage in London during the war had accustomed him to doing without many comforts. Rather, he dreaded going in. He may have been the last person anyone would suspect of laziness, but privately, he hated it. Hated having to report to someone, especially somebody inferior. Hated having his time wasted on the whims of others. Hated having to find his way through the sea of papers that were Oso’s home, always having to ask, or spend hours finding out where something was placed. Oh, to have a Time Turner and make this horrid morning last forever…

With a sigh, he downed his tea in one gulp, stuffed another fluff of omelette in his mouth, and left.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet Abraxas Malfoy, his old schoolmate, on his way to work. Indeed, they might never meet at all, if that old bastard Oso won’t let him work during the auction. But damn it, why did Abraxas have to be after the same book? It wasn’t like he was the most erudite of his old friends. Personally, Tom thought him a stereotypical dumb blond, getting by in his grades due to his good looks and family wealth. He could only hope Abraxas wouldn’t do anything stupid and blow his cover.

“Look on the bright side,” Tom said to himself. “Brax swore himself in service to Lord Voldemort. He wouldn’t refuse me anything.”

II

The end of the month brought summer’s end, and with it came Tom’s first payment — cut in half, as he’d only been there since the middle of the month. He’d finished analysing the three books and sent his notes off to the Baron, together with his confirmation that he would keep working there. He didn’t need the money, as he’d gotten into the habit of enchanting pebbles to be coins and newspaper pages into banknotes, but a salary was the perfect excuse to approach his target, his key of choice in that muggle institution, with an invitation.

“A date?!” she said, looking happier than he’d expected her to be.

“A date, an evening out among colleagues,” Tom smiled, leaning on her desk. “Whatever you like.”

“Colleagues, is it? So will Ambrogio be invited too?” she chuckled, eyes twinkling with a tease.

“Ugh, don’t.”

She laughed. “Is it that bad?”

“Let’s trade places one day. You’ll see.”

“No, I’d rather go on a date,” she pouted, coming around to lean beside him. “Where?”

“I had several ideas in mind… All of them a little selfish,” he said, slinking closer to her until their shoulders touched. “To start, maybe, the museum?”

“Really?”

It was not, of course, a selfish choice for Tom. He couldn’t care less about muggle history, ancient or otherwise, but he knew her to be the kind of sentimental soul that cared for it.

“And in the evening, I have tickets to a concert. We can have dinner in between. Your choice of restaurant, of course.”

She could barely contain her smile. Tom thought for a moment that she might even hug him, and his body braced for it, but it never came. The loosening of his muscles felt like a disappointment.

“Oh Tom, but you’ve barely earned anything yet, how can you afford —”

“Don’t worry about me.”

She sighed, clearly worrying regardless. It was a little cute, if he was honest. Through her open eyes, he read a thousand feelings, none of them seemingly connected with each other: fear and joy, anticipation, dread, and gladness.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he said in a low voice as he placed his hand over her own on the edge of the desk. “Being stuck down there all day while you’re up here and we can hardly see each other…”

“I know… I miss you too,” she confessed, blushing slightly.

“You do?”

He knew she did, of course. From early on in their acquaintance he’d attempted to seduce her, to get her on his side. He wore his tightest shirts just for her, even when the weather killed him. He walked her home a few times more since being employed there, and sat and waited for her to lure alleycats to pet them, or rushed with her to buy a baguette so she could feed the pigeons, or any number of useless things she thought to do in the evening.

“But… Tom, does this…” she started, chewing on her lip.

“Yes?” he asked, tension filling him as well.

“Does this make us boyfriend and girlfriend?”

His mind blanched, not helped by her looking up at him with those wide eyes, her lips so close, so kissable…

“W-would you like to be?”

He went back down to the basement smiling, his lips still warm after a little kiss. He touched his lips once finally alone, the taste of her already fleeting.

“Pull yourself together, Tom,” he said. “This is not the time to simper for a muggle.”

The rest of the day was compromised, naturally, as all either of them could think about was the coming Saturday when their date was arranged. There was a clandestine air about it too, as nobody else knew that they were going. It was exactly the sort of attitude he wanted to inspire in her about the two of them.

III

The museum Tom took her to was the Palazzo Altemps. In centuries past an aristocratic mansion, now home to a collection of art that spanned from antiquity to the Renaissance. It looked frail and solid all at once, full of colour and yet gloriously dead, the statues staring at them like beautiful corpses, frescoes billowing across the walls.

Tom thought it did well to cover the historical periods that she, too, was interested in, if her taste in books was any measure. He was right, she positively gushed when they came across the bust of someone whose book they had in their collection. But she was mostly fond of those displays that splattered across the eras, ancient Roman statues standing tall and cold against a faded fresco a thousand years younger, looking soft and fragmentary in shades of gold and blue that once used to be crimson and black before the ages changed them.

“Can you imagine living here?” she whispered, her head tilting back in ecstasy. A long, floral corridor stretched out before them, with a garden to the right seeping with a milky light. “So wide and open and beautiful…”

“I couldn’t,” he grumbled. “Think of how much maintenance such a place would require…”

His new girlfriend laughed at him, the chime of it resounding through the halls.

For Tom’s part, he was mostly struck by the conspicuous differences between things. Mainly those within himself. It was a strange experience to look upon the art of muggles as a wizard, and the art of Italy as an Englishman. He was, in this way, twice a foreigner, and yet…He felt like everything there welcomed him.

In spite of his criticism of the place, he knew he could be at home among those gentle smiles, the unseeing eyes, the outstretched arms, and even saw parts of himself in the leisure of a lean white leg or a smooth abdomen, or a gentle curl of hair. The thread-thin reeds in the distant landscape of a fresco, or the vaporous rays of a sunset over the horizon of a city.

Beside him, he heard his companion stop, standing in smiling contemplation of the same thing. Her hand brushed against his, and suddenly it felt right to take it. He did, and in a fluid motion, as if nothing else could possibly follow such a gentle act, her head leaned to rest against his shoulder. He felt her warmth in the crook of his neck, the softness of her hair against his cheek, and Tom couldn’t help but lean a little closer. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

IV

She took them to a nearby restaurant for lunch. She claimed not to know the area very well, as she hadn’t gone wandering there since her earliest days in Rome, but Tom had come to trust her choices.

“So you’ve seen all there is to see, is that it?” he asked with a lopsided smile. Suddenly, his whole itinerary for the day seemed lacking.

“There is always more to see in Rome,” she said with a dreamy smile, cheek resting in her palm.

She seemed genuinely happy, and that soothed Tom’s ego somewhat.

“How many years have you lived here?”

“Oh my, it’s been at least six by now, I think.”

“And you’ve been working for the Baron the whole time?”

“Only for the last four years. The first two, I drifted from job to job, just at other libraries and shops…”

“Why did you leave?” he asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Some went out of business. It was a more tumultuous period, after the war. Others, I wasn’t really happy at. Some owners were mean, rude, demanding…”

“Unlike the Baron?” Tom asked with a grin.

“He is a bit of all of that,” she admitted. “But the opportunity to work with those books was… impossible to refuse. His collection is unparalleled, at least in Italy.”

Tom smiled and looked down at his plate.

“You agree,” she said — not asked — as she looked at him intently. “You’re still after the Delomelanicon, aren’t you?”

“Is is a fine collection,” Tom shrugged. “But my employer has something truly worthy of envy. The most rare of ancient esoterica. I suppose that’s why he’s so keen on acquiring Torchia. It’s too good to be left with the Baron.”

To his surprise, she laughed, wine trembling in her glass as she held it. It was not a mocking laugh, but something truly amused and girlish.

“Typical,” she trilled, her eyes shining. “The arrogance of old collectors… Well, then I guess you’ll just have to compete with the French gentleman.”

“Who, Malfoy?” Tom smirked. “I don’t think he’s French.”

He wanted to slap himself for saying it, but could not resist bragging that he knew something that she didn’t.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I happen to have gone to school with him.”

And there it was, his flaw, his arrogance: the mad and senseless instinct to impress her. Yes, he too knew important people, he too rubbed elbows with the aristocracy, and had a life before all of this.

But she was far from impressed.

“You couldn’t have,” she scoffed.

“And why not?” asked Tom with a cold squint.

“Why? Because he must be at least fifty years old…”

“… Ah.”

And with that, all of Tom’s plans crumbled. Of course it had to be the elder Septimus Malfoy, not his son… He should have guessed it from the start. Abraxas would never have gone through so much trouble for something educational, and his father never would have trusted him with it.

“So, will you?” she asked, her cheeks full with an impish smile.

“Will I what?”

“Compete with him for the book.”

Tom stuffed his fork in his spaghetti bolognese and frowned. There were various ways to say yes, and various ways to lie. Out of all of them, he chose the riskiest one.

“I will, with your help, if you wish to give it.”

She smirked and looked up from underneath her lashes. “Are you trying to take advantage of our special relationship?”

“Only if you let me,” he winked.

V

The concert was held in a park, where a wooden stage was raised in front of a tall fountain, lights hanging all around with garlands of fake paper flowers. There were seats among the flowerbeds and stands in the back with drinks. Tom bought two glasses of champagne for them, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, their coats up to their ears like barn owls to keep the midnight cold at bay.

It was a jazz concert, a novelty for Tom for whom it meant nothing, but she seemed to enjoy it. The band, a local group all dressed in black, played tunes that ranged from the energetic to the dour, and the air was filled with so much sound that Tom felt it in his chest. It was a completely new experience. He’d never gone out to enjoy music on his own, nor did he enjoy it in private either. Unlike most of his Slytherin classmates, he actually knew how to work a radio, but he’d always found sound in the background to be distracting when he worked.

And as he sat and listened to the band, he found no reason to change his opinion. Music was a waste of time, he thought. After each song, the audience applauded, and with the champagne glass tucked between his legs, he did so too, but privately he felt nothing. Their music was too fast-paced, too rushed, too out of pace with his own feelings.

He used the time to think of Mr. Malfoy. What did he really know about him? He’d been invited to his house for Abraxas’ seventeenth birthday, so they’d met. He remembered sprawling gardens with marble pillars, swans sliding on a lake, and a large, cold house. Tom knew Septimus to be a tall pale figure, distant, resplendent, and utterly dedicated to his family — not that Abraxas ever appreciated it.

The Malfoys were faultlessly hospitable to him, no doubt having heard of his magical skills from their son, and perhaps of his heritage too. But behind their manners and their perfect smiles, Tom detected, without even having to use Legilimency, disgust at his half-blood status, and underneath that, a certain envy.

He could only imagine, then, what reaction Mr. Malfoy would have at seeing him working for muggles in a foreign country. He sighed and bowed his head, his soul swirling with anguish and horror at the mess that was to come. And there was no avoiding it…

At his side, he felt a gentle hand. She nuzzled close to him, turning to look at him, frowning, as if to ask what was wrong. Tom raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on it, and for a moment all his worries were gone.

VI

They were walking side by side down the street that led to her home. After hours spent together, walking, briefly talking, looking at each other or just feeling one another’s presence, it was difficult for Tom to get back into the habit of hiding himself so well. He couldn’t even muster up the tried and true old charms he used with wealthy witches back in England. He was too much of himself that night, and he wasn’t sorry at being, however faintly, seen.

“What are you thinking about?”

He turned to smile at her. “You, of course,” he said.

“No you weren’t.” She was giggling, but through the midnight dark, Tom thought he saw sadness in her eyes.

He sighed. “Alright, I wasn’t.”

“Is it the books?”

He chuckled. She wasn’t far off, in a way. “Am I that transparent?”

“No,” she grinned, wrapping her arm around his. “Quite impenetrable, actually. It was just a lucky guess.”

“Is that so?”

“I used to think about books too, that’s all. Often even outside of work. It was fun, it’s… an infinite subject to get lost in.”

“Used to? What do you think about nowadays, then?”

That caught her off guard. “Erm, you know, everyday sort of things.”

Tom tightened his grip on her arm and made her look at him. With her gaze wide and open on his, he chanced a quick prod into her mind. He met no resistance, in fact, save for a milky smooth veneer, her thoughts were clear as crystal.

He saw himself. And one head shorter and a little less defined was a figure he recognised as her. Tom found it amusing that she saw him more clearly than she saw herself. They were kissing. His arms were around her, his hands gripping her head to hold her still. There was a swaying to their motions that seemed to change direction. It soon became clear to Tom that they were making love. His body covered hers in the middle of a plush darkness, their bodies like pillars of light, they moved together as smoothly as seafoam.

Her eyes went wide when he spent a moment too long looking at her, and she shifted her gaze away to the sidewalk. Her building was already in view. Did she guess that he had read her mind? It wasn’t possible…

Tom chuckled. He reached up and hooked a finger underneath her chin to tilt her face back up to look at him.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asked, feeling more smug now than he had any right to be. “Hm? Do you want to show me something?”

She exhaled, and even that sounded shaky. “Maybe,” she said in a small voice. “W-would you like to come inside?” She didn’t even finish saying it before she blushed — more at her own phrasing than anything.

“I would.”

[ladylooch]

timo smut please (virgin reader?)

Okay, I like this! I took this in the direction of inexperienced reader rather than full on V because this felt more authentic to my style :)

I wrote a good chunk of this last weekend and then couldn't finish it because of real life. Hope it's worth the wait tho!

Thanks for the request! Requests are open again today. Send 'em in!

Warning: 18+ Content

The buzz in your head has little to do with the alcohol you’ve been chasing and more to do with the boy who’s lips are on your neck. No, boy isn’t the right word, this is a man.

Timo Meier’s tongue glides against the warm skin of your neck as his skilled fingers unlatch your bra. It falls to the floor beneath you and he wastes no time in placing his palm on your pebbled nipple. 

“Fuck, I’ve been dying to touch these.” He murmurs against your throat, kissing his way up to your ear lobe. He sucks the skin between his lips then nibbles. “You looked so good in my jersey tonight. Red is definitely your color.”

“I’m getting used to it.” You say breathlessly. 

You and Timo had met through mutual friends back in San Jose. You’ve hung out on occasion as a group, but never truly alone, always with one or two other people. When you had a work trip to New York City shortly after his trade, you reached out to meet up, thinking he wouldn’t take up the offer. He texted back within a minute that he would love to see you. Tonight, you’ve been out in the city being whined and dined and maybe now 69ed. A chill of pleasure shrills down your spine as his mouth sucks your nipple. Your head falls back as a surprised moan flutters from your lips.

You can’t remember lips feeling this good before.

You’ve had encounters before. Nothing overly spectacular. Your one boyfriend before this had been lackluster and focused only on his pleasure, less on yours. You distinctly remember tracing patters on the ceiling of his bedroom as his sloppy, erratic thrusting pushed him further and you wondering if you should be feeling something different.

Being with Timo wasn’t going to be anything like that. 

His fingers hook into your black panties, gliding them down your thighs until they pool between your feet. You bite your lip as he steps slightly back to take you in.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmurs, hooking his pointer finger under your chin to look into your eyes. “But you’ve gone quiet on me…”

“I… um…. I don’t have a ton of experience with this.” You rip the bandaid off, trying not to wince at the surprise on his face. You came in here hot and heavy, sloppily shoving your tongue into his mouth like you knew exactly what to do. But now that it’s time to perform, you’re terrified. This man has had his fair share of women, his skill is obvious of that. What if he’s disappointed? 

“Thank you for telling me. You know, you can change your mind about this.” He murmurs, eyes focused on yours even though you’re fully displayed for him. His words make you feel safe and you shake your head no, grabbing his neck to thrust your tongue back against his.

Your need takes over, pulsing as it guides your hands to the button on his jeans.

“You sure?” He asks again, just to hear you moan yes back to him when his thumbs brush your nipples. “Good. I’m going to take care of you.” He steps forward, walking you back until your knees hit the couch. You awkwardly lay down watching as he slides between your knees. You’re sure he’s going to lean over you, working his jeans the rest of the way off. But instead, his mouth attaches to the inside of your knee. Your nostrils flare in excited surprise.

Now this... what he’s hinting at, no one has ever done.

His lips trail down slowly, leaving wet prints in their wake until he’s reached the apex of your thighs. A smile slides across his lips before he pauses, making eye contact, asking for permission one last time before he moves this forward. 

“Please.” You beg him. He softens at your voice and slides his tongue from his mouth to give your folds a needed taste. He kisses along your outer lips, building a tightness in your core that feels unbearable. Until his lips reach your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, rolling it over as your eyes close in ecstasy.

Oh. My. God. You think as his tongue makes another pass and then another over your clit. 

Your hands flow down, reaching for his head and shoving him deeper. You’re new to this, but the sparks in your body from his mouth have you acting like a pro. All the apprehension you felt earlier disappears from thought as you clench his head between your thighs. His hand comes up, spreading your legs further apart again as he works faster. Your head snaps back against the couch as he tests your entrance with one finger. He glides in, curling up to rub along the front of your walls. 

“Ohh, ffffuck.” Sputters from your mouth with a long moan. “This.. wow.” You can’t string words together to even tell him how incredible what he’s doing to you is.

“I know, beautiful.” He pauses for a moment. “Come for me.” He asks as he presses his lips back to you. His tongue presses in deeper, he slides another finger in, creating a tempo that has the coil liberating the tension from you. You see stars, lurching slightly up, watching as he sucks you through completion. Your hand falls from gripping his hair to holding his cheek. He gently releases you from his mouth, eyes meeting yours. His cheeks are flushed pink, matching yours. The moment is intimate and you think to yourself, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

“Come here.” He grabs the blanket along the back of his couch, holding it out to wrap around your naked body. You slide over, slightly confused.

“Are we done?” You ask him, sinking into his grasp. He holds you tight to his body where you can still feel the erection straining against his zipper.

“You not satisfied?” He asks with a knowing smirk.

“No! I am…. So satisfied.” The words tumble out quickly which makes his smirk grow into a smile. 

“Then we are done.”

“What about you?” 

“Who says I’m not? Real men get off on a beautiful woman grinding against their face.”

You laugh incredulously, not sure you could have imagined a better night. Your forehead falls to his chest as his lips come to your temple. 

The next morning, you awaken to Timo gently kissing along your shoulder over his t-shirt on you.

“Good morning.”

“Hi.” You murmur, rolling over and accepting the hot tea he has for you. He remembered you’re not a coffee person and warmth bubbles up in your chest.

“And a chocolate croissant.” He points to the nightstand. 

“Thank you.” You murmur shyly, tucking the covers under your armpits as you sit up. You carefully pull a sip into your mouth, looking at him over the lid. He smiles back then reaches out to draw lines on your bare thigh peeking out.

“Are you okay after last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Didn’t want you to wake up and regret anything.”

“No one has ever made me feel like that.” You admit, pink dusting your cheeks. 

“I like that.” He grins back at you. “I was thinking… you could stay here while I go to practice. Then, when I get back, I can teach you how to use that pretty mouth on something else.” His eyes blaze back at you, waiting for your agreement. 

You lean forward, letting your mouth find his. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth for a moment before pressing your lips fully to his. Your tongue glides through his lips, circling with his then finishing with a soft suckling that pulls a quiet groan from him. 

“On second thought, don’t change a thing.” 

[obwjam]

It's Not Safe For You Here (Stargate Atlantis: Carson Beckett x tiny!reader)

a/n: behold, folks: my very first commission! requested by the wonderful and lovely @blueskimmer! i love how this turned out and i'm very happy i got to put this together for them 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

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

You just couldn’t believe your luck.

It usually went something like this: A Wraith ship came zooming out of the ring with that weird glowing light, taking as many people as it felt like. Within minutes, it was gone. It came through every so often, but because the giant village you called home was small, by human standards, the ship’s visits were few and far between. In the last couple of years, you had only seen seven, maybe eight, ring activations.

Of course a ship of unfathomable size descended on your home in the middle of your midnight borrowing trip.

It was pure, unadulterated chaos. People were screaming, dirt was flying, and you couldn’t see a thing. Whenever the Wraith came, you situated yourself in your little bunker until daylight, and this time was no different. You just had to climb down the water well and get to it.

What you didn’t fully realize was that a giant ship meant that there were Wraith on the ground as well as in the air. Debris was flying from every angle as weapons were fired and houses were set ablaze.

All it took was one errant rock to send you tumbling down.

It happened in an instant—so fast that you don’t even remember getting plunked. It was a pebble, really, something that wouldn’t have normally thrown you, but it came flying at such a breakneck speed that it immediately knocked you out, and off your feet.

When you came to, you had to blink away the light that flooded your vision. You groaned and tried to sit up, but immediately fell down when you realized you couldn’t. Your arm was twisted in a way that was not normal. You silently cursed yourself before realizing you had no choice but to get up and run. Things were hitting the ground at a rapid pace, and you had fallen off the well and were out in the open. You couldn’t believe nothing had happened to you while you were passed out.

So for the rest of the night, you stayed hidden behind the cover of grass and leaves. You managed to situate yourself underneath some fallen rock so if anything came tumbling down from above, you would hopefully be safe.

It was torture. You watched as hundreds of villagers dwindled down into a few dozen in a span of hours as the Wraith stunned them and dragged them back to their ship. The thought of getting snatched up by one of those aliens was enough to send you into a panic.

You didn’t realize you had eventually fallen asleep when the noise finally died down, but before you knew it, you were jolted awake by the sound of voices that cut through your ringing ears.

Voices you didn’t recognize.

“Oh, no…” Sheppard said as soon as his eyes fell on the scene before him. They were set to start trade with this planet—in exchange for some medicine, they would receive bountiful crops for the mainland. They certainly didn’t anticipate a culling happening in the week since they had been here.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Rodney cried. “When did this happen?”

“It looks like they were just here,” Ronon observed. “Some of these buildings are still smoldering.”

“Oh dear,” Carson mumbled. It wasn’t often he got to witness the destruction of the Wraith firsthand, and he almost couldn’t believe that just a week ago, this was a bustling village with hundreds of people walking about. Guess he and his medical supplies weren’t needed on this mission anymore.

As the others began to drift off into different parts of the village to investigate, Carson, left with nothing to do, started to aimlessly wander toward the water well in the center of the destroyed town square.

That’s when he saw you.

He gasped to himself, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. Right on the ground, gaping up at him in shock and fear, was a tiny little human.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Truthfully, he was surprised they didn’t encounter more species in Pegasus that weren’t human, but never in a million years would he have anticipated a humanoid creature as small as a mouse. He wasn’t sure if it was just the aftermath of a culling, but a closer look revealed to him how disheveled you were. Your clothes—more like rags—were draped over your figure like loose robes, and your shoes were nothing more than thick, makeshift pieces of cloth. Your hair was unruly at best, and your skin was caked with dirt, scrapes and bruises.

“Oh my god…” he whispered with equal parts concern and amazement. “What… what are you?”

You were shaking so hard you couldn’t stop yourself. Everything in your body hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. At the absolute worst time possible, you had been spotted. He was wearing a thick vest with what looked like a million little pockets, and he was carrying a giant case that was unlike anything you had ever seen.

In your half-lucid state, you got the bright idea to try and hide from the giant. You managed to get on your feet, but you couldn’t take more than a few steps before your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed. Instinctively, Carson lurched forward, and in the disarray of it all, you shrieked and twisted your body away to brace for anything the giant might do.

At your sudden movement, Carson recoiled. Did he do something wrong? Was he scaring you? That was a stupid question. Of course he was scaring you. The doctor knew he had to help, but he also knew he couldn’t just scoop you up and take you back to Atlantis, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make sure you weren’t so terrified of him first.

“Hey, hey…” he said gently, trying to mask his own shaking voice. He cringed at how big he felt trying to talk to you, so he slowly crouched down, not missing the way your eyes widened as he got closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, little one. My name’s Carson Beckett, and I’m a doctor. I just want to help.”

You could only stare blankly at this human with an incredibly bizarre accent. You knew he was trying to make you feel better, but a doctor? The ones that poke and prod and touch? Nuh-uh. No way.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you,” Carson said again. He felt like it needed repeating. “It’s not safe for you here. Let me take you back to Atlantis and we can—”

“NO!” you shrieked suddenly, surprising both you and him. You had no idea what Atlantis was, but you knew it couldn’t be good. “N-no, ple-please… I…”

Carson had subconsciously put his hand on his knee to rest, but once he noticed the way your eyes were tracking its every movement, he sheepishly pulled it back.

“Look, I know you must be scared down there. I know I would be if I were in your shoes,” he started. “But you’re in bad shape, dear, and if the Wraith come back again, you’ll be stuck here with nowhere to go.”

Your stomach dropped when he said that. You couldn’t even fathom the Wraith coming back like that again. There’s no way I would survive.

“Let me help you, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” he said softly, putting a smile on his face to show he was friendly. “I can take you somewhere safe and fix you all up.”

You instantly shook your head no, and when the doctor cocked his eyebrow, you knew you had to defend yourself.

“I… please, I can’t… I can’t go anywhere with you.”

Carson had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gushing over how cute your tiny voice was. “Why not, love?”

“Because… you’re a human.”

He sniffed an amused laugh before a feeling of unease washed over him. The fact that this little guy needed to distinguish themself as non-human was intriguing.

“What’s so wrong with being human?” he implored.

At that, you clammed up. After years and years of living in secret, you weren’t about to blurt out the borrower code now.

Carson sighed. You were clearly frightened out of your wits, and it didn’t seem like talking would get him very far. Maybe if he could get through to you just how bad your injuries were, you would be more inclined to trust him.

“It’s alright that you don’t want to chit-chat, but as a doctor, I can’t just stand by and let your injuries go untreated! You could be seriously hurt, and I have a responsibility to help you, even if... even if you are just a wee lad who can fit into my pocket!”

You were surprised at his sudden outburst—and amused at being called a “wee lad”—but he was right. You were badly injured, and you didn’t have the means to fix yourself, let alone hunt for food, water and shelter in this state. At this rate, you’d be dead in a week anyway.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to say.

“…Okay.”

Carson perked up. “Okay what?”

“Okay… you can help me.”

A grin grew across the doctor’s face. You clenched your jaw as his hand gently descended palm-up next to you, eagerly awaiting your arrival onto it. You gawked at it in horror—his fingers were taller than your body, and his palm came up to your ankles—but there was no going back now.

Carson’s breath hitched as you dragged yourself onto his palm, tiny hands pressing deep into his skin for support. He was sure that he’d never been more nervous than he was right now—your life was literally in his hands. He stayed surprisingly still, even through your struggle to get your legs moving without being in crippling pain. Your form was so small in his hand, and yet, it was like he has the most important task in the world. He could feel your every little movement, down to your deep breaths and trembles. His heart fluttered with each and every one of them.

Once you were situated, he took a breath. Your eyes were trained on the ground, refusing to look up and deal with just how big he was.

“I’m going to stand up now,” he warned. “Are you ready?”

A tiny, nervous nod. His heart fluttered again.

You had to close your eyes when he stretched out to his full height—you had never changed altitudes so fast before. In a moment of panic, you reached out and grabbed onto the closest thing for support, which happened to be Caron’s thumb. He let out a small Oh!, which just made both of you blush.

Grabbing his medical kit with his free hand, he briskly, yet smoothly, made his way over to a now-empty house to give you some privacy. He pushed away his feelings of unease at the reality of the situation to focus on the task at hand.

Placing his kit on one side of the table, he laid his palm down on the other, his expression soft.

“It’s okay, you’re safe here,” he reassured you, noticing how you nervously eyed the new landscape.

His mouth hung slightly agape as you ambled off his hand, utterly fascinated at something so small moving around. He couldn’t even fathom what this place looked like to you right now.

You watched with wary eyes as he opened his impossibly large case and began to take out tools you had never seen before. He quickly glanced down at you and frowned at your sudden change of expression. He quickly realized just how scary his instruments must look to you.

“Don’t worry,” he stated, “I don’t need to use all of these. I’m mainly looking for… these.” He pulled out some gauze and tape and set them both aside.

“Do you have a name, little one?” he asked suddenly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when you didn’t answer. He began snipping off small pieces of gauze. “My team and I came here through the stargate hoping to trade, but…” he trailed off. Not only did he want to forget about the culling, but he especially didn’t want to think about you witnessing it. The thought of being so small during something so destructive made him want to vomit.

He shook off his anxiety and continued. “Can I at least ask how you got so banged up?”

You kept your eyes trained on the dents and scratches of the old wood you sat on. “I fell.”

“Fell?” Carson repeated. You merely nodded. “From where? When? How long had you been on the ground?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your jaw was quivering at just how many questions this guy was asking. He wanted so much information, and you weren’t even willing to give up your name.

Carson pursed his lips. These were all standard questions he’d ask any patient, but he had to keep reminding himself that you were not just any patient. So he decided to keep his inquiries simple.

“So,” he sighed. “What hurts, love?”

You sniffed a laugh. What didn’t?

Carson saw your expression and gave you a small smile. “Right. Sorry. Stupid question, huh?”

You had to admit, it was fascinating watching him move around. He was snipping off pieces of that… whatever it was… and carefully laying them down. His gaze kept flickering between you and whatever he was doing. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Would you say anything’s broken?” he tried. He was still hoping for a verbal answer, but he settled for the impossibly small nod you gave him. Another heart flutter.

“You’re going to have to give me specifics,” he said with a small laugh. He gave you another look-over and frowned—you were wringing your hands and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

It seemed that he had a little more work to do than normal.

“Hey,” he started, putting the scissors down. He spotted a rickety stool nearby and pulled it over, taking a cautious seat as you gawked up at him. He leaned down, still in awe at how everyday objects simply towered over you. “You’re doing great, dear. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just being here is very brave of you, you know.”

You looked up with a half-bewildered, half-flattered expression. There was this twinkle in your eyes as you tried to suss out how genuine this human was, and it was like you could see your own fascination mirrored in Carson’s own softly curious gaze.

“I’m serious!” he continued. “God knows if the roles were reversed, I’d probably have passed out by now. It can’t be easy being so… small in a giant world, I imagine.”

You stared at him in amazement. How could he possibly know what it’s like? What kind of giant would even try and empathize? That’s not what humans did in the stories you were told. Giants would snatch you up, stick you in a jar and torture you for fun. This one… this one was the exact opposite.

And that meant something to you.

“Kona.”

At the very sound of your voice, Carson felt his cheeks flush red. You were so adorable it hurt.

“What was that?”

“Kona. My-my name.” You cringed at how helpless you sounded. “You asked me for my name.”

“Kona…” Carson repeated. “What a lovely name.”

Your face went hot. Why did his compliments mean so much to you? You barely knew him.

“…I think my arm might be broken.”

“Oh, dear,” Carson mumbled. “Look, love, the best I can do right now is wrap it up a bit so you don’t aggravate it anymore…. but I’m afraid I can’t do much more unless I take you back to Atlantis.”

A pause.

“I know you don’t trust me, but I think you know as well as I do that it’s just not safe to stay here anymore. You could get hurt even more, or worse.” He gave it a moment for his words to sink in, and he could tell you understood. “Everything is destroyed here. There’s no reason to stay.” Another pause. “Please, Kona.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he said your name. You were a borrower that lived by yourself in a giant village on a strange planet—nobody ever said your name that wasn’t you. But the way this human said it… it had meaning. A purpose. Like he loved the way it sounded and knew how well it fit you.

You had never felt this way before.

“Okay,” you quavered, trying not to sound so scared this time. “I’ll go with you.”

It took Carson only a few minutes to pack up his things. Instead of trying to do it himself, he insisted that you wrap the gauze around your own arm, and he made sure to show you—from a distance, of course—the proper way to do it.

Climbing on his hand the second time was not nearly as petrifying as the first. Gripping his thumb seemed to be the easiest way to hold steady, but Carson didn’t mind. He thought it was the cutest thing in the world.

“This is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I came to this planet with four other people,” he explained as he sauntered out of the house. “And the place we’re going… it’s pretty big, even to me.” He chuckled at the fact that he just said that. “There will be a lot of people there, and you might have to meet quite a few of them. Are you okay with that?”

From his hand, it was like you were seeing this planet in a completely new light. Everything was destroyed here, but at least from this vantage point, it didn’t seem so bad anymore. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

“Yeah,” you finally replied after a somber moment. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself smiling as you turned your head around and looked up at Carson. He was beaming right back down at you.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

[lockedtowers]

❛ i never thought i'd see you again. why did you come back into my life now? ❜ (vi @ cassie)

“i’d argue that you came crawling back into my life.” lips parted and teeth bared as tongue scrapes across her canines, turning away from the girl as she steps towards dormy: vial of contentment placed upon the podium, awakening the doormouse from their deepened slumber. “tell the hatter i’ll be back.” the cat offers, turning harshly on her heel as she steps back over.

“outside.” it’s a demand, hand grasping the others arm and walking side by side; dragging, almost. hand glows a purple color as the doors dramatically shut behind them, though the cat seems to remain fairly careful on the trudge down the steps. the cat releases her midway on the path, eyes darting briefly to the red telephone box, arms crossing as attention fully returns to violet.

“seems neither of us are good at staying dead, then— i have to assume that means you know where miseris is?” tongue clicks, and she steps closer, metal heels of her boot clanking against the pebbled ground. “now, out with it, clearly you’re not here for me or you wouldn’t be so surprised to see me. don’t tell me you’re dabbling in the wonders now.” head nods to the side, eyes looking back towards the path to the back of the shop; knowing the hatter, he’ll be spying already. the man has a reputation to uphold, after all.

“always seemed too high and mighty for that— or, is there something else?” as lips remain parted, corner of her lip pops up into a near half-grin, though falls just as quickly as she thinks. as head fully tilts to the side, a laugh escapes her, grin forming properly. “don’t tell me you plan to get the hatter’s assistance on something— because he doesn’t do anything for free, and you don’t trade in wonders, do you, sister dear?”

[spiderrrling]

The Price of a Kiss - Eddie Munson x reader

Summary - You start trading Eddie little nick knacks for kisses

A/N - Tiiiniest little drabble from my drafts because I feel bad not being able to post any new writing, 1k words

“What’s this?” Eddie’s eyes weren't even looking at the rock you were holding up in front of him, his dark, doe brown eyes were linked to yours, and he wasn’t planning on looking away.

“A rock,” you smiled proudly at him, the small stone glinting softly in the sunlight as you held it up, with tiny streaks of crystal scattering the light and reflecting onto his face.

“I can see it’s a rock sweetheart,” he said as he picked the small rock from your fingers before holding it up to the sunlight and admiring it. “But why?”

“I dunno- I saw it and it looked pretty, I wanted to give it to you,” you wrung your hands together as you spoke and in that moment Eddie knew you had to be the most adorable creature to ever walk this earth-

“So you saved it? Brought it all the way here to me?” Eddie asked you with big eyes, the rock long since pocketed in his black ripped jeans, and you nodded in response to his question, biting your lip ever so slightly.

“Why thank you sweetheart,” his voice was soft as he spoke, and he was close enough that you could hear every slight shift in his voice, every breath and tone change. Eddie’s arm was wrapped around your waist bringing you impossibly close to him. “How could I ever repay you?”

It was painstakingly clear what he wanted, his lips were hovering over yours, almost brushing but just barely not, yet you could still swear you would know what he would taste like when he finally kissed you.

“A kiss perhaps?” your eyebrows raised ever so slightly and you tipped your head to the side, pursing your lips together as you looked at him.

“A fair trade indeed,” Eddie cooed at you softly, his rough hands grabbing your face and cupping it in his hands before he connected your lips together. His lips slightly chapped, but yet they were always softer than you expected, and he kissed you with such gentle care almost as if he was worried about shattering you in his grip.

“There, I think that is reward enough don’t you?” Before you could protest Eddie’s lips had left yours and you could tell he was fighting back the smirk that was nipping at the corner of his mouth. You pouted at him and stood on your tiptoes to try and reach his lips, which easily cracked his facade and his grin broke out over his face.

“Nuh-uh my love, that wasn’t our deal, I’ll suppose you’ll just have to trade me more.”

That was the first time you and Eddie exchanged a trade, and it was only the first of many times. After that you did whatever you could to find things to trade with him. Little knick knacks, a scrunchie, more pretty rocks you would pick up on the walk to his trailer, and once you made him a friendship bracelet that had him peppering your face in kisses.

“You know, I think you might end up collecting all the pebbles in Hawkins if you keep this up,” he once told you just before he gave you your well earned kiss. “I don’t care- if it means you’ll kiss me like that again I’ll do anything.

“Well, do you have something else to trade with me?”

It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t gladly give you as many kisses as you wanted, all you had to do was ask him, and you did. But you still loved the little trades you shared, and you loved finding little things to trade with him.

It almost became a little game to you, find the prettiest rock, the most perfect shell, make him something that you knew he would appreciate for more than just your small deals.

However, what you didn’t know was that Eddie kept everything you traded him, while he would pocket whatever little trinket you had brought him, when he got home, or when you weren’t looking he would slip it into the little box he had started keeping under his bed.

Even the bracelet you made for him, after he had given you your kiss he excitedly asked you to help him tie it around his wrist and after that it became a regular accessory, sitting just below his usual leather cuff. It was almost a little funny seeing the hand braided colourful friendship bracelet tied around his wrist next to the hard and cut black leather, it was such a stark contrast that it shouldn’t make sense yet somehow it did so perfectly.

It was almost like a sense of pride for him, every now and then he would reach under his bed to fumble around for the box, pouring out all the small trinkets onto his bed just to scoop them all up into his hands. Like a goblin would with his gold coins.

And it would lead to the silliest little pieces of conversation between the two of you. Like the time you were sitting on the couch, his hand tangled with yours when you pulled a slightly cracked shell out of your pocket, you didn’t even have to say anything. He simply picked it from your hand and started examining it against the dimmed light in the trailer living room.

“I don’t think this is enough for a kiss my love, my rates have gone up,” his voice was silky smooth as he spoke, and his thumb was on your chin forcing you to part your lips ever so slightly and the softest whine escaped from your lips. “Would you settle for a kiss on the cheek?”

“Everything is so expensive in this economy these days,” you muttered and complained, pouting ever so slightly at him to try and gain some affection in your bargaining.

“Oh but you’re so cute, how am I supposed to resist?” Eddie let the question hang in the air for a moment before he kissed you.

[thatredheadwriter]

Stay Here

din djarin x reader

This started cause I was listening to Lana Del Rey and Hozier and it made me horny, so please enjoy smutty husband/Mand’alor Din (with breeding kink 👀). This one’s around 1.5k words.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Din Djarin of the Mandalorian. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

husband!Din

Kinda domestic fluffy moment (it’s very tiny, this is mostly smut)

I really went for the mando’a here, huh (translations at the top)

pleasure dom!Din

kinda service sub!reader

Very eager reader

Breeding kink

unprotected PIV (see above)

talk of pregnancy

Mention of anal

Please read at your own discretion and remember to consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Mando’a Translations:

Su cuy’gar…………………….hello; literally “you’re still alive”

cyar’ika…………………………darling, sweetheart

mesh’la…………………………beautiful

riduur……………………………partner, spouse, husband/wife

cabur……………………………protector

You’re in the kitchen when he comes in, tired and frustrated from a day of meetings and consular briefings. Din was the best kind of ruler, a reluctant one. He didn’t want power, didn’t need it. It was years of doing what was best for his people and following the code without hesitation that had led him to this.

Despite his reluctance, you both appreciated the change in pace. The new capital Sundari was bustling with activity and made a much better place to raise Grogu than the seat of his starfighter. In fact, you’d just gotten him down for the night, a sure feat without Din’s help, even with promises of sweets at breakfast and clumsy lullabies you’d been learning in mando’a.

Cold beskar presses into your back as your husband wraps his arms around you, still-gloved hands slipping under your shirt and sending a shiver down your spine.

“Su cuy’gar,” you chuckle, stirring the pot in front of you and letting Din take his fill of you. It surprised you at first, how affectionate he could be, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. “How was your day?”

“Lousy,” he grunts. One of his hands slides up to cup your breast, making you inhale sharply. “Where’s the kid?”

“Asleep. Took me ages, he wanted you,” you try to sound stern but your words come out as breathy and it takes all your resolve not to whimper as he pinches and twists your nipple. You clear your throat, “Dinner is ready.”

His voice is husky through the vocoder as he spins you to face him, “It’ll keep.”

Without fanfare, Din crouches and hauls you over his shoulder, long legs carrying you off towards your shared bedroom. There was no question that his favorite part about having a home was having a proper bed to fuck you in. He palms your ass as you get nearer, two fingers coming to rub over your clothed slit. Even through the layers, he can feel the dampness and you hear a dark chuckle from under his helmet.

You bounce when he drops you onto the bed, the black of his visor trailing down your form like he’s drinking you in. Hoping he’ll remove a few layers of his own, you strip off your shirt, exposing your top half to the cool air of the bedroom. You can practically see his brain shortcircuiting as he takes in the way your nipples pebble almost instantly, so sensitive and ready for his touch.

He moves for the control panel by the door, shutting it and dimming the lights so you can just barely make out his form in the darkness. You smile softly. Din wasn’t shy, but he was still getting used to allowing you to see him. Before taking your marriage vows, it was pitch black or blindfolds anytime he removed his helmet. Now you were treated to the strong profile of his face as he removed his helmet, setting it aside. You greedily took in the strong line of his jaw, fuzzy with scruff, and the curve of his nose–the same one that always teased your clit so beautifully whenever he drank his fill of you.

His armor glints as he removes it piece by piece, unwrapping himself for you. It’s not lost on you how special this is. As a Mandalorian, this privilege of seeing him bare, vulnerable, was reserved only for you. The ruler of all Mandalore, stripping himself bare for you. It’s too much. Din is barely out of his flight suit before you were on him like a feral loth cat, pushing him back towards the bed.

“Need my riduur, my Mand’alor,” you purr, standing at the foot of the bed and stripping off the rest of your clothes for him.

You crawl onto the bed, trying to decide where to start. Your heart skips a beat as you take in your husband lying in your marriage bed, naked and waiting for you. His skin shudders as your fingers trail his chest reverently, moving down lower and lower towards his leaking cock. A string of curses breaks the silence and you finally grant him mercy, wrapping your hand around his girth and pumping a few times before moving to hover overtop of him.

Din loves it when you ride him. He loves being able to see your body on top of his, feel your presence crushing the darkness and doubt out of his soul. He loves seeing your tits bounce and he lives for the way your mouth falls open in that silent cry as you sink down on top of him.

It takes every ounce of restraint in his body not to just flip you over, push you into the mattress, and pull the pleasure from you. But he waits for you to move, to give yourself over to him and build your pleasure little by little.

“Always so tight for me, cyar’ika,” he groans as you roll your hips against him.

“Just ‘cause you’re so big.”

Din huffs a laugh underneath you, hips bucking up into your softness forcing a depraved mewl from your lips. His hands squeeze your ass, kneading the flesh and pulling your cheeks apart.

“Next time I’ll fuck your ass. Then you can tell me how big I am,” his filthy growl steals your breath away and you clench hard around him at the promise, making him gasp underneath you.

Din is patient, but you’re not. You need this. Not just your pleasure, but his. You need to make him cum, you need to feel him release inside you, to claim you as his.

You’re riding him for all it’s worth, and it’s just not enough. But it’s like he can read your mind. Din shifts beneath you, and your hands plant down onto his chest just as he uses his new leverage to fuck up into you, stealing your breath away with the force of his thrusts.

“I’m going to fill you up, cyar’ika,” he grunts, fingers digging hard into the meat of your hips to hold you in place as he impales you on his cock over and over again. “Watch you grow with my child.”

“Din, please,” you whine, nails digging into the firm muscle of his chest. You don’t even know what you’re asking for at this point, willing to take whatever Din will give you. Your brain is gone and the world has melted away. There’s only Din, your riduur, your cabur, your Mand’alor.

“I know, mesh’la,” he cradles you close as your arms give out, his hips never slowing as he ruts up into you at a furious pace. One hand tangles in your hair and pulls you in for a teeth-clashing, breath-stealing kiss and it’s the sting at the root of your hair that pushes you over that edge.

Din swallows your sounds and you shake with pleasure and he slows his pace for a moment to give you time to ride through your high. When you finally go limp against him, head dropping to his chest, his hips start again as he chases his own release.

Your limbs feel like jelly, but you slip your hands up to thread through his sweaty curls and scratch at his scalp gently. “Fill me, riduur,” you urge. It’s just seconds later that you feel him swell and twitch inside you, hot ropes painting your walls as he fucks through his high.

When he’s finished you both lie there for a moment, breathing in tandem, Din’s length still seated deep inside you. You start to get up, but your husband has other plans. He maneuvers you easily until you’re lying on the mattress, tucked into his side with his arm wrapped around your waist like a beskar vice. The loss of him inside you makes you whimper and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Stay here, just a bit longer.” There’s a rustling sound behind you and then Din’s pushing a pillow under your ass, elevating your hips. When you look over your shoulder to face him, he looks almost sheepish. “I want it to take, cyar’ika.”

You can’t help but pull him into a giddy kiss, one he readily returns.

“Fine, I’ll stay. But you should go get some dinner before it burns. And check on our son,” you give his shoulder a shove and wave him off before he can protest, knowing he’ll be back in less than five minutes.

As you watch him pull on his underthings, your heart fluttered in appreciation of the man in front of you–an attentive husband, amazing father, strong leader, but most importantly a good man. You couldn’t wait to tell him that your cycle was already late.

[fauxraven]

Age of the Wandering Fae [I]

pairing: Dream of the Endless x Nuala of the Faerie

summary: A thousand times of choosing others and the one time she chooses herself.

warnings: spoilers for the comics, only canon-compliant through the beginning of The Kindly Ones, Nuala is underrated.

word count: 5k+

dedicated to @nualaofthefaerie

Enter the Dream, weary traveller

There is a diamond teardrop resting upon her heart.

It shimmers against a sea of new galaxies and supernovas long since imploded.

There is a sapphire teardrop in her eyes.

It glistens like a pebble under the glare of a dying sun. Insignificant, in the infinite scheme of everlasting everything.

There is a ruby teardrop in the throne room. It drops like a dead planet, tumbling off the endless ocean of galaxies shimmering in his eyes.

The ruby bounces off the floors, falls out of her chest, skips across the fabric of the worlds and shatters at her feet.

Her brother had called it World’s End.

This is infinitely worse.

The heavy words linger inside what is left of a heart that’s been trampled time and time again. For the last time.

‘’What?’’ When she finds her voice, the word is small, inconsequential, to her likeness.

‘’Is there anything you wish to take away with you, Nuala?’’ He repeats, as if she could ever forget, ever dismiss the sound of his voice.

She shakes her head feebly.

‘’Very well. I would like to formally thank you for your service, these last three years. Give me your pendant.’’

‘’What?’’

This is not real. This can’t be real. This is a dream. A nightmare. She knows he’s just remade the Corinthian; she knows he would not—could not… let her go?

‘’Your pendant.’’

A slender finger touches her heart. The diamond teardrop sparkles, a pure white light emanating from within. The pale hand falls away with her hope.

‘’There,’’ he says, dark starry eyes sweeping over her own. ‘’For your loyal service. A gift. If in need, hold the stone with both hands and call me. I will come to you. You may have one boon.’’

Oh.

‘’You desire more than that?’’

No.

No, thank you, sire. Very kind of you, sire.

The diamond teardrop tumbles down a steep hill and joins the ruby at the bottom of a winding staircase.

At the very top of those stairs, lays the universe, in all its infinite glory.

At the bottom, lies her crumpled heart, a brother that has never deserved her and a dream lord who has never wanted her.

A dream lord who lets her go, the same way she came into his possession.

A dream lord who, just like everyone else in her life, will not fight for her.

Somewhere deep within the Garden of Forking Ways, Destiny of the Endless startles. A shackled hand flips through an ancient book of endless tales—flips and flips until his fingers smart, and then stops.

This is the moment that changes everything.

For the first time in the history of Time, Nuala of the Faerie decides to fight for herself.

‘’That’s all?’’

‘’You desire more then?’’

‘’Screw you.’’

She can barely see Dream’s eyes beneath the heavy bangs shielding his deathly glare, but the single star twinkles, twinkles against her odds.

Beside her, an unworthy brother stifles a laugh.

‘’Nuala, you jest! How I’ve missed this. But do leave some for—‘’

‘’No,’’ her voice has never been this stern, this cutting. Her cold eyes briefly find his dilated pupils. ‘’You left me here. No, you traded me. Offered me up like I was some sort of jewel. Less than—a… nothing. I was nothing to you. I always have been. Screw you.’’ A daring faerie finger jabs the Dream Lord in the chest. ‘’And screw you.’’

‘’You forget yourself, Nuala.’’

‘’I don’t even know who I am,’’ she replies quietly. And then the rest of the world falls away and Cluracan’s lulling voice disappears. In this new sheltered universe, there remains two people, huddled under the blazing light of a thousand stars. She isn’t even half of them. ‘’I warned you. I kept telling you but you wouldn’t listen. Was this really worth it? Was she worth it?’’

She recalls weeks of endless rain and aimless walks under his bedchambers, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of him. Tucked in a corner of the Dreaming, standing in all his ethereal glory on the highest balcony of the dream world, brooding as he's always been, she’d still spent hours watching him.

But in mourning, he’d seldom looked at her even though she’d only ever had eyes for him.

She’d visited the witch’s quarters many times after that, before they were erased, just so she could feel even briefly what it meant to be loved by him.

And he was sending her away.

She was tired of being ignored, she was tired of constantly fighting for someone who had no wish to fight for her. The worst of the worst: he had no malicious intent; he was simply doing this because it was all the same to him.

She wished it were all the same to her.

‘’You are out of line.’’

‘’I am not anything. To anyone.’’

She is testing him, she realises that, but she also longs for freedom, and she learns that she cannot have both. It had never been him and freedom.

Him or freedom. Always.

She thinks it’s funny; how she doesn’t realize it until after the words have left her mind but before they’re out of her mouth.

She wants freedom.

She wants to be liked, to know love. To be worthy.

She should have written that letter. It would have hurt less.

‘’I’m not leaving with you, Cluracan,’’ she says, still hanging on to Dream’s eyes. ‘’But I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted and watch you destroy yourself.’’

She is crying now. The diamonds tumble and tumble across the rolling expanse of a hill, steeper still.

‘’I can’t do it. I won’t. I won’t do it—not when I’ve spent every day of the past three years completely in love with you.’’

The final diamond falls, plucked from her heaving bosom.

It shatters on the cold floors of the throne room, its deafening crack resounding in the empty room long after she’s vanished into the ether.

⬗ ⬗ ⬗

Cluracan is looking for his sister.

Titania, Queen of the Faerie, is scourging the planes for her loyal servant.

The Faerie Folk of all worlds are calling out to their kin.

The Dream King sits upon his throne, thinking.

Around him, all is utterly still.

The Dreaming is quiet, save for a few whispers and the occasional side-eye glance of a beady eye. Nothing has changed much.

In fact, nothing has changed at all.

Nuala of the Faerie-Folk has come. Nuala of the Faerie-Folk has gone. Everything that’s happened in between is nothing more than a fuzzy dream.

With a weary gaze, he glances at the growing pile of books gathering dust by a leg of his throne.

The Corinthian, in three old novellas, and two new tomes.

Mazikeen of the Lilim—her volume is thinner than the others, her dream web having only been activated some time during the weeks that followed Morningstar’s vacancy; thin, but incredibly insightful, for a demon at least.

The One Who Broke His Heart. Naturally, it isn’t what the title says but the matter is currently open to interpretation. Unfortunately, he knows that refraining from speaking her name will do him no good—she is only the latest in a long everlasting series—but he needs to feel the heartbreak, to mourn for a while if not forever.

His trusted librarian finds him neck deep in the thoughts of others. She carries a hefty pile of leather-bound volumes.

‘’My lord?’’

‘’Lucienne,’’ he sits up, surveying his friend with grave eyes. ‘’Is something the matter?’’

‘’I can’t be sure. These are all the books that Nuala has read, and those she planned to read. Where shall I put them?’’

The Dream King finds himself frowning. ‘’Whatever for?’’

Lucienne’s bespectacled eyes give a single blink. ‘’The search, sir.’’

He says nothing.

‘’Or—not? Forgive me, I was under the impression that we all missed her dearly. The Committee—‘’

‘’What committee?’’

‘’Well, not a committee per se but a few of the Dreamfolk have arranged to look in their own time. We all just assumed that’s what you’d want… be doing.’’

‘’Nuala has made her choice. She has left the Palace and the Dreaming. Willingly. The best way to care for her is to simply leave her be.’’

‘’But if even the fae cannot find her on this plane, surely—‘’

‘’That will be all. Thank you, Lucienne.’’

Lucienne bows and retreats to the library, leaving only her books behind.

The Dream Lord stares at the second pile for a long moment, long after the Whimsical Wind has settled in the Dreaming, long after the Gatekeepers have clocked out and the Palace remains silent still.

Nuala’s books are different, because he hasn’t read any of Nuala’s books for the simple reason that he has no idea what Nuala likes to read.

He doesn’t know anything about her.

He knows that she is faerie-folk. A fool’s sister.

He knows that she cleans the wide window panes of his throne room with a renewed dedication at least four times a day.

He knows that she tends to Fiddler’s Green sometimes and all that lay in his dominion.

He knows that she thinks she loves him. He knows that she is gone now.

But he doesn’t know where.

In the weeks that she has been gone, he’s chastised himself for not paying attention. For turning a blind eye to her feelings. He would not have returned them, but he would have been kind, understanding. After all, he was no stranger to heartbreak.

For an Endless, a supposedly omniscient being, he tended to miss the sign of the times.

Every. Single. Time.

The first book he thumbs through is nothing extraordinary. It’s a women’s magazine, with a few dog-eared pages on trendy hairstyles and photo shoots of film-stars who would not outlive the decade.

The second and third books are slightly more interesting. The Man who was Thursday, The Napoleon of Notting Hill, The Collected Works and Essays of Chesterton… most likely commissioned by Fiddler’s Green himself. She liked to read to him in the quiet hours of the morning—another thing he did not know.

Next come the classics: Jane Eyre, followed by its modern take Rebecca, the first edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream which he’d commissioned, Orlando…

He flicks through these volumes like he’s read them a thousand times over. He probably has.

In the 2028 Edition of Moll Flanders, he stops.

On page 95, a feebly curled penmanship has carved a note below a bright fuchsia section.

Pretty.

Really love?

He understands what she means; he finds it strange, surely, but he understands nonetheless. He wants to give her the answer.

No. No, he does not love her. He lusts after her.

He feels sorry that she cannot tell the difference.

The last book is not a book at all.

It’s a collection of excerpts from Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, tiny pieces of paper stapled together without a hardcover.

Inside, he finds a world of notes.

He remembers thinking that Lucienne could not know, lest she be furious and calls off the search. He doesn’t remember much of anything else after he reads through the faerie’s thoughts.

There are many-a-quote, by many authors, that he has remembered along the years. Words are dreams that remain long after the rest of the world has awoken.

For under a quote by Plath, lays a single word, a word that has never had much meaning to him to begin with. A word that could make or destroy him.

I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

The tiny penmanship writes a single, hesitant word in the margin.

Dream?

Never, in his life, has he been more insulted. Never in his life has he been more understood.

Another similar instance draws his attention.

The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence. I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me.

Nuala?

Thessaly tried.

But Nuala of the faerie breaks him.

⬗ ⬗ ⬗

The Twilight Realm pales in comparison to the world she’s made of it.

Memories become stories become something else entirely, and Nuala has perfectly conveyed her memories through the glamour of her quarters.

He’d gifted her the piece of land the day he’d realised she could not leave. He’d crafted a small patch of greenery, but she’d cultivated the earth herself, coaxed the fauna into establishing residence and planted a lush garden in a greenhouse the shape of a heart. It was perfect. Beautiful. Peaceful. One of the most breathtaking places in the Dreaming. And he had no use for it.

Memories become stories. And he remembers a story about a lonely King on a throne of stars. A trusted librarian and the comforting hand of a friend on a cold shoulder.

What shall we do with her rooms, my lord?

The king’s pain, felt through the pelting rain: Erase them.

‘’Boss!’’

He’s never whipped around so fast in his entire existence.

He deflates; it is only Mervyn Pumpkinhead trampling on violet flowers.

‘’You are hurting them.’’

‘’Uh?’’

‘’The lilies.’’

As if on cue, a thousand petals unfurl and two thousand cries break free.

Merv clamps his ears shut—he doesn’t have any but the sentiment is certainly there—and sidesteps the clinging stems, desperately hanging on to his knees.

‘’That’s whack! Where’s all that energy when we need something done around this place?’’

The wailing only intensifies. They miss her, nearly as much as they all do.

‘’Enough.’’

The deep baritone is enough to send shivers down their stems; the flowers still, fussing quietly as they turn away from the Dream Lord to seek more sunlight.

To Merv, he offers his undivided attention.

‘’You requested an audience.’’

‘’I did? Oh, yeah, yeah, I definitely needed to talk to you, uh… where did I put the…’’

‘’Mervyn. State your business and what is has to do with me.’’

‘’I ain’t got any business with ya, honest. Uh, why do I keep losing everything, beats me. If these winged rats nicked it I’m gonna find tweezers and—there it is!’’

The gloved fingers of a dream find a box of night itself. The box is in the shape of a tiny rectangle that fits perfectly in Mervyn’s scarecrow hands. On the side he’s presented the king, a silver thread curls in on itself, spelling the letter M.

Wholly unimpressed, the king’s cool gaze sweeps over the object.

‘’What is this?’’

‘’A box? A gift, I guess. The kid’s been working on it since you lost the last one. Not sure how it works ya know—pixie dust or whatever.’’

‘’A gift?’’ Echoes the Dream King, midnight brow furrowing. ‘’Her kind are not known for their generosity.’’

In his experience, faeries’ gifts always came with strings attached. Conditions, prices, eternal damnation.

And yet out of all the faerie’s gifts, Nuala had turned out to be the most deceiving.

‘’I shall accept it.’’

The case falls open through no fault of his own—or Merv’s. It simply reacts to a series of words; a thought, long before it’s even been articulated.

And inside the box lays Nuala’s parting gift, a single gemstone encased in a gold pendant.

A ruby worthy of dreams.

⬗ ⬗ ⬗

On the day that marks the first year without her, the Dreaming rejects every dreamer from every realm known to man.

Its heart shifts—Fiddler’s Green, then the shores of Dream Country and a thousand grains of golden sands. From the Library of Dreams to the House of Secrets and the Cave of the First Woman; the heart of the Dreaming shifts and shifts, blurs and flies by in an ocean of light and unabridged colours. Its inhabitants grow restless as a flurry of landscapes keep disappearing, reappearing, vanishing and melting altogether in an endless loop. And still—no dreamers in sight.

He is indifferent to it all.

In his idle alcove above the worlds, the Dream Lord sulks.

It is his saddest anniversary yet.

It has been less than a turn of the Earth, but he feels her loss as though she has been gone for aeons. As do they all.

His subjects are not happy; he knows this. They haven’t rebelled, because they aren’t unhappy enough to attempt the unforgivable, but oddly enough, he wants them to. He wants them to take up arms and request audience—No! No more audiences, he can’t bear any more. He wants them to be angry enough to shake some sense into him; to force him to go after her, find her, convince her, bring her home. But they don’t. Because they care about her but just as all things—love dies out. Everything ends and time heals even the deepest wounds.

He has always been impervious to Time.

Ancient eyes trail over the silver trees below. The window is dirty, fogged over with aeons of neglect and frosty winds whipping over the glass, succeeding pelting rain and sparkling rainbows.

The change in his humour has done nothing for the Dreaming.

The winds come and go, briefly clearing the skies for five glorious burning suns, and then finally bursting into fat droplets of bloody monsoons.

Undecided is the weather, a pattern it’s inherited from its creator.

The rainbow appears again, a quick flicker of warmth in the winter landscape. He feels the warmth from within. It takes the shape of a ruby, gleaming against his dark robes. It hums a soothing lullaby that only he can hear in moments of doubts. It stills his nerves and fills his heart with joy.

He does not remember when it started.

He does not remember many things about her at all.

But he remembers the feeling bubbling in his chest. A passion of some sort; probably anger, quite possibly anguish, had overwhelmed him. He remembers the new new Corinthian and a mishap that oddly resembled the old old article. He remembers the rage, the darkness, the light. The shimmering light of a thousand suns, hot as an iron in the palm of his hand, burning through his anthropomorphic personification, through the heart of an Endless and obliterating his burgeoning ire right in the bud.

The Corinthian had first learned about clemency that day; he applied it himself many times since then.

It had happened again. Once in the library, when he’d caught one of Mervyn’s unsavoury spiels. The Pumpkinhead was sent on his way, unharmed.

It wasn’t until a most incredulous episode that he'd acknowledged the truth.

A black bird in the shape of a blonde-haired little girl had trespassed on the dreams of a fat burly god.

The god looked upon the freckled little girl with glowing eyes, distributing candy like curses on Walpurgis Night.

She held out a red plastic bag, marked with the generic brand of a human supermarket and the burly god grinned and let a handful of sweets fall into the bag.

The girl suddenly reached up and pulled his white beard.

‘’Trick or treat or trick, Mr. Claus?’’

‘’That is enough.’’

The bearded god stilled, spun and found the shadowed figure of a brooding Endless.

‘’Untamo?’’

But Untamo was not looking at him. The gaze of the God of Sleep was cast past him, upon the fiddling little girl.

‘’What is your business here?’’

‘’Just—wanted to meet him.’’ The Cuckoo shrugged, clinging to her plastic bag.

‘‘He ought not to be disturbed before the season.’’

‘’But-but it’s All Hallows’ Eve! Barbie has always loved All Hallows’ Eve!’’

‘’Barbara is no longer part of you. Per your choosing.’’

‘’You’re not fair! You’re the meanest meanie, mister!’’

‘’Untamo?’’ Interrupted the bearded god who’s only ever a god once a year, as he scratched his bearded chin. ‘’I feel I should not be here.’’

‘’Indeed you should not; off you go, Pukki.’’

The bearded man disappeared; the house of gingerbread remained, and the Cuckoo and the Dream Lord, making good of the scenery. They fell inside the house somehow, shielded from the frost by thin windows and a crackling fire. The Cuckoo sipped on a hot chocolate mug, lounging in a sofa by the Christmas tree, watching the Dream Lord as he surveyed the fire burning up in the hearth, hands firmly clasped on the armrest of a wooden chair.

‘’You have chosen to remain a child.’’ He observed after a quiet moment, eyes still trained on the burning wood.

‘’I wanted to see Santa,’’ she argued. ‘’I don’t always look like this.’’

‘’And yet you have the mannerism of a child.’’

She took a gulp of her lukewarm drink.

‘’You vowed never to return.’’

‘’I haven’t! This isn’t the Dreaming, silly! You’ve closed off your realm to the humans. Better off, methinks.’’

‘’The Dreaming isn’t locked. Admission is simply… pending.’’

‘’Waiting for your little lady love, perhaps?’’

The Cuckoo remained insightful, even from the body of a child. An insightful and evil spirit that had only ever longed for freedom, for recognition. A mirror of her. It’s only the little things that remind him of her.

‘’She is not my love.’’

‘’Who’s the child now?’’

And then, he spoke the words that had weighed him down for a year.

‘’I am looking for a faerie. Do you know where she might be?’’

‘’Why should I?’’

‘’You have left the Dreaming. You have carved a path of your own, severing your physical as well as spiritual form from the place in which you were born. You know how she feels.’’

‘’No one really knows how she feels. I’ve never been slighted like an old sock before.’’

His jaw ticked.

‘’But my question was really: why should I tell you?’’

He leaned forward, eyes shining with renewed interest. ‘’You know, then?’’

‘’The Cuckoo knows things. Things that were told to her. Whispered by the wind and… other things. I might tell you, for a price.’’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘’Name it.’’

The Cuckoo grinned. ‘’Martin Tenbones.’’

And so, he granted the Cuckoo one final boon.

She did not know—not entirely. She redirected him to a hobgoblin huddled under a mossy bridge in a humid part of Ireland, buzzing with tourists.

Many riddles and a clipped lock of Endless hair later, and he’d found himself on a wooden deck at the end of the world. An enchanting creature beckoned him closer with a crooked finger peeking through a sturdy nest of wet rope. He set her free in exchange for knowledge.

His road was paved with many more such instances, but none of them led anywhere. None of them led to her.

They’d all seen her in passing, a mere peek from a tiny hole in an old brick wall, but none of them knew where she was, how she was faring. If she was happy and thriving or just as miserable as him.

The ruby was his only constant companion, trailing like a burst of light in a sea of darkness.

And that is when he finally understood. In his search for her, of all things.

Distress was something the Dream Lord knew by heart, and she’d offered him a way out. She’d offered him a piece of her soul, perhaps without even meaning to. Without consent nor want—only with love.

In the here and now that separates the Waking from the locked gates of the Dreamworld, he glances out a window and holds the ruby to his chest. It hums in his hold, whispering soothing nothings to him.

He lets his eyes drift shut. And tries, one last time.

‘’You called to me?’’

He remembers saying those very words once, in a different setting, more monotone, more assured, but he had not felt this relieved.

He turns to her, sees her, and breathes in. She stands in his chambers, a year later, summoned out of desperation and longing. His own desperation and longing.

‘’Nuala.’’ The way he says her name nearly breaks the whole of the Dreamworld. Outside, whipping winds blow through the trees, slacking against the window. He takes a moment to observe her. He’s been looking for her in the dreams of others; never to find her. But she is here now and he can see her and realise that she looks different. Prettier. ‘’You’ve changed your hair.’’

‘’It’s called a haircut, you should try it sometime.’’ She shrugs. ‘’I don’t use the glamour anymore if that’s your question.’’

‘’It wasn’t. I am pleased to see you.’’

‘’You have summoned me.’’

She stands too far away. Out of reach. The closest he’s been to her in a year.

‘’So I have,’’ Her brown hair barely brushes her shoulders in shining locks of varying lengths. She is dressed in a simple cotton shirt and silk shorts, of the latest human fashion. Sleepwear, he notes with a melancholy grin. ‘’Much has happened in your absence and I merely wished to—‘’

‘’What do you want?’’

He blinks, stopping just shy of her. He lowers his treacherous hand—yet another thing that has escaped his notice—and stares at her.

You, a voice whispers in the back of the ruby.

‘’I do not understand.’’

‘’The ruby,’’ she reaches up and rests a small hand over his aching heart, drawing a sigh from his chest. ‘’It grants you one boon. In return for the kindness you have offered me. I shall grant this boon now.’’

In the quietness of his chambers, he frowns. ‘’I do not want a boon. I want you, Nuala.’’

He searches her dark gaze with his own. He had never realised just how dark her eyes were.

‘’Is this your wish, Dream Lord? For me to come back to the palace?’’

‘’It is.’’ he squeezes her hand over his heart. ‘’More than anything, it is.’’

She averts her gaze for a moment. ‘’Anything else.’’

‘’Pardon?’’

‘’Choose anything else and I shall grant it.’’

He blinks again. She finds it fascinating, the way his starry eyes twinkle with confusion, the way he looks at her now, as if seeing her for the first time. It breaks her heart.

‘’I do not want for anything else.’’

‘’Choose.’’

‘’I won’t choose.’’

‘’Then I’ll choose for you,’’ she breathes over his lips. ‘’I believe in free will, do not make me a hypocrite, Dream Lord.’’

‘’I was under the impression this was what you wanted. Forgive me.’’

‘’No. I can’t. I haven’t. I stand by what I said, I deserve better.’’

‘’You do. You deserve the world.’’

‘’Then let me have it. Coming back to resume my duties would only kill me again.’’

He smiles then, a true smile that shines through dimensions; because he’s found the flaw in her design, and she would not dare refuse him now.

‘’You misunderstand me, Nuala. I wish for you to return, yes, but you would not be resuming your duties in my kingdom.’’

‘’What then?’’

‘’You would be mine.’’

She frowns. ‘’Your servant?’’

‘’My lover,’’ he hangs on to her hand, so tiny in the palm of his. ‘’My partner. My everything, if you so wish.’’

Nuala of the Faerie has learned much in her year of self-discovery.

She’s learned that the world is so much brighter and bigger that she’d imagined. She’s learned that humans aren’t as terrible as their dreams. She’s learned that they can be kind and welcoming. She’s learned that she can be confident and beautiful in other people’s eyes with no need for deception. She’s learned that she’s free and funny and she looks pretty in the mirror and clever and like she knows what she’s doing. She’s learned that she can be enough for someone.

‘’Are you mocking me?’’

‘’I would never,’’ he replies, solemn in his claim.

‘’Why are you doing this?‘’

‘’Nuala, I would never.’’

‘’No, you would not. But Cluracan would. Has he sent you?’’

‘’Your brother worries for you; as does your queen.’’

‘’Titania is my queen no longer. But Cluracan’s sent you then?’’

He grips her hand tighter. ‘’No. No, I am here of my own volition. I have called you here to share my feelings. Because you deserve that much from me. Because I—‘’

‘’You didn’t fight for me. I fought for myself.’’

‘’You did. I am so proud of you, Nuala. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.’’

She wants to pull away. She really does but he holds her tight and his gaze holds her even tighter.

‘’I’m not alone. I have friends. And a landlord. And a dog.’’

‘’A dog? We could have a dog.’’

‘’I don’t want your dog.’’

He draws even nearer, until her breasts brush against his hard chest. He is here, real and he’s just told her he loves her, so why can’t that be enough?

‘’You could have me.’’ His lips graze the shell of her ear and trail over the pale skin of her neck, lingering on her cheek. ‘’Let me fight for you. Let me protect you. Let me love you.’’

His lips find hers; she does not fight him. She lets him love her. Again and again. And again.

She lets him in greedily, swallows his love and his sighs, scratching his scalp lightly with her free hand, wanting, needing to draw more from him. He’s a reserved being, her dream king, but he moans reverently into her mouth and she kisses him deeper.

He wants her on the bed. He wants her on his lap. He wants her on his throne. And above all he wants her in his life.

She wants him too, badly.

She licks into his mouth—he tastes like he smells, sparkling stardust and the sweet sour taste of a burning nova.

She tastes like herself. Candy floss and roses and love love love.

It’s been a year without oxygen. A year without worries. A year without her. It’s both the best and worst thing that’s happened to him.

But she has changed. She has learned to stand up for herself. She has learnt more than in a millennia.

He loves her for all that she was before; he loves her for refusing her fate, changing her odds. He loves her for who she is today and her lips and her caresses and her tongue—

‘’I adore you, Nuala. Stay here, with me.’’

She swallows his plea. She swallows his hopes and dreams and his heart. His own hand lingers over that very spot, long after she’s vanished again, leaving him alone in his empty quarters.

In the end, she chose herself.

A/N: I could not fit the smut so… part two 👀 ?

I couldn’t fit the smut so… this might just turn into a two-shot ;)

Nuala is such an interesting character, but so underrated (and for what?)

She’s kind and devoted and really just wants to be loved!

[titsuya]

sigh my tits look so pretty rn, wishing suna was real so he could give em kissies :(

warning: tit suckin’ , cute nd witty banter, short nd sweet

a/n: honestly me too, but he’s not so i wrote it <3 next best thing— i also incorporated national bf day bc why not

“hey, pretty,” he whispers in your ear and you swear you can hear the way he’s smirking. “i know you’re awake, c’mon,”

you roll your eyes turning your body to face his, “what is it, rintarō?” you question, begrudgingly. “i have class tomorrow? it’s late.”

he smiles at you, smiling in admiration. you’re just so beautiful to him. even with your tired eyes and grumpy attitude— he wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world and he would proudly admit that.

“it’s national boyfriend day,” he leans into you, “that means you gotta get me a present or something… it’s kinda like a national rule,” he mutters.

“as if,” you scoff, softly, “first of all, it just ended like 30 minutes ago. second, it’s not a rule, rin, you’re just greedy.”

he scoffs back at you, “after everything i’ve done for you?” he asks in fake disbelief. “c’mon, bunny, if you loved me, you’d get me something?”

“are you implying something?”

“nah, baby, just want a gift for all the hard work i do,” he jokes.

“rin. what do you want?” you question, fed up with his antics. “i’ll give it to you if you shut up and let me sleep.”

he hums, eyes trailing down to your chest. your pretty tits covered up by thin sleep shirt. he noticed your pebbled nipples poking through the chest and he smirks at the thought of having his mouth wrapped around them.

“want your tits,”

you laugh, “well, if i could take them off my chest and put them on yours, i would.” he groans at your attempt of a joke and you sigh, “fine. not for you, but only because my tits looked exceptionally pretty today.”

he smiles, “they look pretty everyday, baby, now gimme.”

he pulls your shirt up and stares at them in awe for a few seconds before scooting down and wrapping his mouth around your nipple. he hums as he sucks and gently nibbles on the skin.

you hum under him, taking pleasure in the sweet sensation. you run your hand in his hair, lightly tugging at his roots because you know that feels good to him. you were correct, the grip on his hair elicits a tiny moan, making you smile.

“feels good, rinnie,” you sigh, happily. “the other one need some attention, too.”

he grumbles under his breath, “so pushy,” nonetheless, he moves his mouth over to your other perky nipple, repeating his actions.

you smile, moaning softly when his teeth tug at your nipple. he takes the other breast in his hand, groping at the fat and you can tell he’s slowly starting to get rough with his movements: sloppily leaving lovebites, rolling and tweaking your nipple between his fingers and even squeezing them together.

“rinnie, fuck, i love you so much.” you moan again.

he pulls his head up to look at you, a small smirk on his face, “tell me i’m the best boyfriend ever,”

you roll your eyes again, pulling him in and whispering against his lips, “you’re the best boyfriend ever, happy?” you say, pressing a tiny peck to his lips.

“mhm, nd i love you more, angel. aaand, i think you have the prettiest tits in the whole world.”

you giggle, “starting to think you only want me for my tits,”

he gasps in faux surprise, “never! but now that you mention it, can i fuck them?… your tits i mean.”

you groan, pushing him away, cheeks burning hot in embarrassment. “go to bed, rintarō. i will see you tomorrow.”

“ugh, fine, i’ll ask again tomorrow,” he quips, “but goodnight, my love, sleep well.”

© all works belong to @titsuya 2021, please do not repost, modify, or translate any of my works on any platform

[cant-see-sam]

That Stupid Smirk; Spot Conlon

You took care of the little ones. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been.

“Spot.” You growled as you watched the boy look up when you stormed into his small office.

“Do you need anything?”

The soft crying of Pebbles could be heard from outside. The young boy that came to the lodging house when he was just five, seeking shelter from the occasional rains of Brooklyn.

“I thought you said you’d keep the older ones from rough housing near the bunks!”

Spot raised an eyebrow. “Why? Did one of the babies get hurt? Tell him to man up.”

You sighed. “First off, he’s seven. Not a baby. And I thought we agreed that you could start getting them to ‘man up.’ When they were 11.”

The boy shruged. “Y/N, it’s six in the morning. What in the world could have happened?”

What did happen? Pebbles only came to you crying and sputtering things about ‘the big kids.’ A small smirk dawned on Spots face at the realization that you didn’t know.

“Are you accusing my boys on something you don’t even know for sure?”

You went red. “No- Pebbles, come in here.”

That was the breaking point for the small boy, bursting into a panic of sobs, he opened the door and stumbled in.

“Oh great, and now he’s crying.” Spot grumbled and stood up.

You bent down to Pebbles height, hugging him. Quickly, you picked him up and set him on your hip. “Just- keep your boys in control.”

“I don’t control them, I give suggestions and they know to listen.” The blonde hair boy quipped. “Now go away, carry your banner or something.”

You huffed an walked out, hating the existence of that dammed Spot Conlon.

The streets of Brooklyn were sweltering hot, combined with the moisture from the docks, it was horrible.

The chatter of boys jumping into the water drowned out the noises of the city. One of the kids, Checks, was monitoring a game of marbles. Checks wasn’t the worst of them, sometimes, you prefer to hang out with him on noisy days.

The cooling feeling of your feet in the water felt nice, especially after selling papers since 7:30. You knew all too well the chipper voices of kids just trying to get by, the voices of boys flirting their way to a sale, hell, you’ve done it. But the sound you loved most is the laugher of the boys you’ve learned to love. Patching holes, dressing their ‘wounds’ (They were usually small scrapes from careless carriage drivers.) The voices you’ve learned to love, laughing, you didn’t have much but you wouldn’t trade that sound for a million dollars.

“Y/N.” Now that, that’s the sound you hate.

“Spot for the love of god, what now?”

“Can’t I just say hi?” The boy crouched down to where you were sitting.

“I know you, you don’t just ‘say hi.’ What do you want?”

He sighed. “Jamesy is letting Pebbles and Bouncer try his cigar by the tower.”

“He’s what?”

“Letting them try-”

“I know what you said, Spot. But you didn’t think to stop him?”

Spot shrugged. “Not my department.”

“I’m going to have your head someday.” You got up, pulling on your socks and shoes and practically sprinting down the docks.

“Don’t kill ‘em!” He laughed.

“Shut up!”

The said boys were, in fact, behind the tower.

“Jamesy.” The tone in your voice was very dangerous, and the boy knew it, judging by the look in his eye.

You were about to do something that could end you in the refuge, if it weren’t for the hand on your shoulder.

“I thought I told ya not to kill ‘em.” Spot mumbled from behind you.

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“The look on your face says otherwise.”

You grumbled, glaring holes into Jamesy’s forehead.

“C’mon, back to the lodging house before you kill someone.” Spots hand on your shoulder guided you away.

“He got lucky.”

“Sure.” Even Spot Conlon, king of Brooklyn, knew not to provoke you when you were mad.

The fire escapes were a beautiful place to escape the noise of the lodging house. The breathing of the boy next to you wasn’t.. aggravating, as it usually is.

“Why do you care so much?” The blonde turned to you.

“What?”

“Last time you said that you were about to kill Jamesy. I’m not falling for that again.”

You laughed. “I see myself in them. I never really got to be a kid. I don’t want the those boys to ever think about when the next time they could eat.”

You keep your eyes on the buildings below as Spot nodded.

“The refuge, I’m trying to protect them. All of them, from that hell. Have you ever been?”

“Many times. I’d go through it a hundred times to save my boys from it.”

“So you do have a heart.”

He hummed. “In a way.”

You scoffed. Maybe Spot Conlon wasn’t so bad after all.

[plush-rabbit]

Poly!Yandere! Big Three in a Relationship

Request: Maybe poly!yandere! Big Three x reader? Maybe sfw and nsfw hcs? 👉👈

A/N: I really like the big three. I think they’re really interesting characters and i hope we get more of them

-

SFW:

Being in a relationship with the Big Three would be anyone’s dream. They’re all attractive, high-ranking heroes, and seem to get along great with each other. It’s the dream to be in their relationship. They’re fawned over and most people would gladly trade places with you. To date the Big Three is truly something to be proud of. They might be obsessive, but that only adds to their charm. Who can blame them? When you’re heroes, you make enough enemies eventually. They only want to protect you and if that means using their connections and resources to figure where you are and with you, then it might be a bit extensive, but it’s only because they care for you so much.

While polyamorous relationships aren't unusual in hero society, it is still a bit of a rarity- especially when they seem perfect like the Big Three. You have the childhood best friends, the beauty queen, and then you, the sweet, little naïve partner who is coddled and cared for. You’re the talk of the news- magazines, headlines, interviews and whatever else there could be, it’s about you and your relationship. While you would have preferred to be kept on the sidelines- the less that know, the better- they can’t help but be thrilled. Now people will know who you belong to without having to say a word. It’s a nice relationship, where they each hold a different part of power over you, keeping you nice and submissive, letting you fall onto their lap as they tell you that you can’t go anywhere now. You can’t start a new life when everyone knows who you are and who you are dating.

Tamaki still holds a bit of his more introverted nature, and when he isn’t out protecting society, he’s at home with you. He has you in his strong grip, sitting beside him as he bulks up for his next day on the job. He loves to touch you, to have you on his lap as his face is buried in your chest, his nails pressing into your skin, dragging down when you try to move away from him. When Tamai is in charge of you, he hardly ever lets you go out. He much rather have you to himself, where no one can witness you nor him. There really is no escape in the home that you share. He knows all the hiding places, and has made sure- along with Mirio- to place cameras where he thinks that you would hide. If you ever seem to entertain the idea of leaving, he’d fall into such a depressive state that the rest of the household would be angry towards you and you can’t have that.

Nejire is sweet. She holds a bit of motherly tendencies, cooking for you, bathing you, and even dressing you up as if you were her little doll. She loves to keep you in such a cute state, to make sure that you look the best that you can be- after all, you are dating the Big Three. Her curious nature makes it perfect- she’s so calming to talk to that you often forget just how powerful she is, just how much control she has over you. All your worries and insecurities are questioned, counter-attacked, and in turn, when he brushes just a bit too harshly on your hair, she reminds you that you can’t really break-up with them if you wanted to. It wouldn’t work out. You don’t have friends. You’ve cut off your family. Who would ever take you in? Especially if they learned just how heartbroken they were if it were your fault.

Mirio is the one who treats you with the most care, he hardly ever gets angry at you. He really is like the sun- bright and all consuming. If you’ve ever gotten into a spat with another, he’s always the first to help you mend things. He’ll do anything to make you smile and will gift you whatever you need in order for that. In turn, all that he asks for is that you stay around him for the longest. Just latch onto him and let him worry about everything that has to do with the household. If you need to go out, he’s sure that Nejire can make time and in turn, he’ll let you take his card- seeing as you don’t have one. He’s so happy, so cheerful, that when he does get angry, it’s terrifying. Tamaki was right. There really is nowhere to hide in the home, because he always seems to find you. His grip is firm, digging and bruising your skin as he tells you to never disobey and run off again. Once done, he flips the switch and he’s wiping your tears and telling you another joke as he pulls you to his arms.

NSFW:

While having a train or a foursome isn’t all that uncommon, they also like to take turns. Tamaki will fill you with his quirk, tentacles inside of you as his cock is buried deep inside of your aching hole. In the sidelines, Nejire will have her hand wrapped around Mirio, and you’re sure if there weren’t tears in your eyes, you’d see her spirals flickering in and out. Mirio’s fingers will be buried knuckle deep as they watch Tamaki rail you. Nejire will have her tongue lap at your sex, her quirk in effect, your body tense and on pins and needles as she keep you close to her, suckling on your sweet arousal. Mirio and Tamaki will have their hands on each other’s cocks, Tamaki’s face red as he watches you orgasm while Mirio pumps his cock, even if semen has spilled. Mirio will be relentless, pushing your face into the mattress, his hands gripping and teasing at your pebbled nipples. Nejire will be perched above on Tamaki's cock, both trying to watch as Mirio fucks you senseless.

If you did fail to listen to either of them, then they’re less than kind to you. They’ll spread your legs, tease at your waiting hole and press soft kisses against your slit, as they tie your ankles and wrists. A vibrator is pushed inside of you, your body shaking and teased at by either their mouths or hands. They edge you until you’re crying. Tears streaming down your face and wetting the bed sheet under you, your hands in tight fists as you beg and cry to not misbehave again. You have to promise to do better. To smile more and hold their hand, to listen when they say that they’re tired from work. You have to be a good little house pet, and know them. They care for you of course, but it’s hard to believe that when they keep rejecting your orgasm just to see you cry.

They all really just like to see your face contort into something less than innocent. They want to see you cry, to see you shake and beg for them to slow down or to give you a break, but they won’t. You have to please three different people who all have amazing stamina and at the end of it, you’re left overstimulated. Your body shakes throughout the night and any type of touch is jolts of electricity shot through you. And even then, when you’re crying and gripping onto scarred skin, your pleas of rest are shushed with a kiss as you’re lowered onto a cock to sit on. If it isn’t cockwarming, then you're meant to kiss at Nejire’s cunt until she lets you up, but there’s also a part of her that just wants to please you. She’ll kiss at your sex and suckle on your arousal until you’re patting at the top of her head to let you rest, that’s it all too much.

This is more of Nejire’s thing, but she loves to have you suck on her breasts. It’s one of the few times she isn’t trying to fight for your attention or get jealous at how the others make you cream all over their cocks. She gets to have you for herself. To feel your mouth latch onto her nipple and tease the hard bud with the tip of your tongue. It’s the few times you ever get to have her so nurturing. To pet your hair and have her other hand teasing with your sex. All you have to do is suckle on her breast, to hollow your cheeks and beg for her to make you orgasm while her fingers are deep inside of you massaging at your gummy walls that clench around her. It’s one of the few times that she’ll ever be sweet during sex- petting your hair, allowing you to cream, and rest. All you have to do is nurse on her and thank her.

In the earlier parts of the relationship, you still wanted your freedom, you wanted to go out and live a life separate from them, but they were able to snuff that flame out. Even now, you hold onto your stubbornness and they can’t help but coo at how silly you’ve gotten. They'll wrap a collar around your neck and force you to walk around on your hands as you don puppy ears with a tail placed inside of you. You aren’t allowed to walk on all fours, or speak and if you want something, you’ll have to nudge at a leg and point at what you want. It’s humiliating but you can see just how much it arouses them- the tent in their pants, the hands that pull on your nipples, the way the toy is moved around inside of you. You’ll learn our place soon enough and when you have, they’ll treat you to something nice as a reward.

[skinnyducky]

excuse me, i love you // v.h.

requested by @thatmultifandomlovingmf

a/n i hope this lives up to your expectation ! i had an idea prior to writing this and i thought it would be nice to sort of mingle the two ! sorry, if this wasn’t what you wanted ! and also same, i still don’t know my ff terms that well either :D

Word Count: 1535, edited

WARNING: fluff, language, fluff.. and more fluff.

---------

Vinnie and you were chilling in his room, lying on his bed. Well, at least he was chilling. You were cuddled into his side and fast asleep—college will do that to you. He took this chance to admire you. He truly loved everything about you, and it made him think: how was he so fortunate to have someone like you? Sure, you’d been best friends for a long time, but that didn’t mean anything—at least to him it didn’t. This thought danced around in his mind, and he recalled back to the event that started your relationship…

 Two years ago…

 It was a Friday night and Vinnie was sitting in his room, scrolling through Instagram and liking whatever random photos popped up on his feed. This wasn’t how he typically spent his Friday nights. Normally he’d be with his best friend, you. However, due to a series of unfortunate events—aka Jackson Dougland asking you out on a date—he was left to his own devices.

As he sat at the edge of his bed, he wandered why him? What made Jackson Dougland so great that you actually entertained going on a date with him? He was just your average dimwit who cared more about his sport achievements than anything else. You deserved better than someone who was just going to use you as a trophy; you deserved Vinnie—or at least that’s what he thought.

Vinnie was unsure of when and why he started to develop a crush on you. Maybe it was because you’re the only girl who really understood him, maybe it was because you’ve been best friends for years, or it could be from the fact that you appeared in every one of his dreams—and that includes the nightmares with Elmo. There was just something about you that made his love for you shift from platonic to romantic, and he had no clue why. He couldn’t tell you that though. For one, it’d be embarrassing if you rejected him. And two, he couldn’t bare to risk your friendship. So, he thought it’d be better to conceal his feelings than to let them pour out.

As he mindlessly stared at his phone, he heard a slight tap at the window. He fell into confusion as he looked over to see nothing there. Shrugging it off, he went back to looking at the small screen in his hands, but once again, there was a tap at the window.

“What the hell?” Vinnie muttered to himself, getting up and going to check out the ruckus. He opened the window and stuck his head out, finding no sign of where the tapping could’ve come from. That was until he was hit in the face with a pebble.

“OUCH, dammit!” He shouted as he rubbed his throbbing cheek. He looked down to see who the culprit was, only to find you standing there. “Y/n? What the hell?”

“Sorry,” you sighed. Vinnie noticed something different about your demeanor. Normally you were happy and cheery, but right now you were the complete opposite, from the slight frown on your face to your hunched stature.

“Can I come in?”

Vinnie nodded and rushed downstairs to open the door for you. Letting you in, he led the two of you back upstairs and into his room. Once you were inside, he shut the door and watched as you plopped down face-first on his bed.

“What’re you doing here?” Vinnie asked, leaning against the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your date with Dougland?”

You let out a groan and sat up, looking your best friend in the eye. “I was, but then I found out he had other motives.”

“What do you mean by ‘other motives’?”

“He didn’t really wanna go out with me. He was just using me for sex.” You said, fiddling with your thumbs. “I was just another notch on his belt; another girl he could brag about getting with to his buddies.”

Vinnie frowned as he sat next to you. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s like, why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Completely nothing.”

“I thought he was so sweet. He went on and on about how we were gonna go to homecoming together, and that he wanted to spend the rest of high school with me. But come to find out, it was nothing but lies.”

“I know, I know.” Vinnie sighed. He hated seeing you down, especially in this instance. You deserved nothing but complete happiness, and the fact that someone came along and ruined that for you, it pained him. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I do,” You replied, your voice breaking. “Maybe this was a sign that love isn’t for me.”

Vinnie shook his head as he looked at you. “Now, Y/n.”

You groaned, “It’s the truth. Think about it, no guy has ever shown interest in me before, and if they have, they’re either like Jackson or they’re in middle school.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just gonna have to face the facts: I’m meant to be alone.”

“Y/n-“

“I should’ve known better.”

“Y/n-“

“Nobody would ever want me.”

Vinnie growled, getting up from beside you. “There are people who want you, Y/n! You’re just too blind to see it!”

You scoffed. “Oh yeah, and who might that be? And if you say one of your baseball boys, I swear to god-“

“Me, Y/n…it’s me.”

You finally stopped your yapping and sat there in shock. Vinnie felt at peace, glad that he was able to get you to calm down. However, that peace was disrupted once he soon realized what he had said. “Oh, shit.” He mumbled to himself, although it was loud enough for you to hear.

“What’d you just say?”

“Oh shit.” He repeated, though he knew what you were referring to.

“Not that, idiot, what you said before that.”

He sighed, sitting back down. “Fine. I said that I want you. And before you go off the rails, I truly meant what I said. I don’t know when I started having feelings for you, but I do know that they’re strong. I get that we’ve been best friends for a while and it’s weird, but I just can’t help the way I feel for you.”

“Vinnie, I-“

“I completely understand if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect you to.”

“Vin-“

“Just promise me that we can still be friends. I don’t know what I’d do without-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you smashed your lips against his. He was taken aback; so many thoughts were roaming around in his head which was nearly on the verge of combusting. When you pulled back, the two of you looked into each other’s eyes for a good minute.

“Wow.” He breathed, causing you to laugh. “I was not expecting that.”

“I could tell.” You grinned. “Do you really mean all of that…all of what you said?”

He nodded. “Of course, I do, Y/n. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. I care about you, and it sucks to hear you go on and on about not finding someone when I’m right here, someone who wants to be with you for you and not for your body or anything. I love you, like so fucking much.”

A smile crept onto your face as your hands found their way to the back of Vinnie’s neck. “You are absolutely too pure for this world, Vin.”

The boy laughed keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “I honestly don’t know what to say. No one has ever said something that sweet and meaningful to me. Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend but hearing it from you feels ten times better.” You smiled. “You mean a lot to me, Vinnie. The fact that I mean that much to you, it’s sweet.”

“This feels like a friendzone speech.” Vinnie said as his shoulders fell.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was planning on friendzoning you.” You chuckled, stroking his head. “I really wanna try this out.”

“You mean like…you for real wanna go out? This isn’t for play-play?”

“Yeah. I feel like we’ve always been a couple. It just took some maturing, a moment of weakness, and one of us to say something for us to figure it out. And now, since we’ve figured it out…I think we should try and see where it goes.”

Vinnie gulped, “But what if it doesn’t work out? I don’t wanna lose you, Y/n.”

“And you won’t.” You reassured. “We’ve been in each other’s lives far to long to just walk out. I have no intention of leaving anytime soon.”

“If that’s the case, then I guess all that’s left to ask is…Y/n, do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes, Vinnie. I would love to go out with you.”

 Flashback over…

 As the scene left Vinnie’s head, he couldn’t help but grin. Two years ago, he would’ve never thought being with you would be possible. But here he was together with you. He had all he could ask for.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[yunjinssunshine-moved]

Yuna | Windflower

Itzy Yuna x fem!reader words: ~4.9k genre: fluff, angst, royalty AU, (childhood friends to lovers)

Desc.: Due to a promise made between your parents and another family, you are arranged to marry their oldest son on the day you turn 18. However, aside from the fact that he isn’t the kind of person you’d wish to spend the rest of your life with, you only have eyes for Yuna, the girl who used to be one of your childhood friends and is now your secret lover. 

You’re walking through the yard of your family’s palace, setting one foot in front of the other slowly. The windflowers growing here during the spring and autumn have wilted, here and there you find a lone petal, having taken on a dead shade of brown. You keep your eyes mostly directed on the path leading through the garden, sometimes taking note of a pebble lying around in the dust. There’s not much to see here anymore, now that the colors of your beloved flowers have faded. 

The corset of your dress makes it hard to breathe for you - or maybe it’s the fact that today is the evening leading up to your 18th birthday. Birthdays have always been happy occasions for you, with your parents organizing only the most delicious food, presents, and letting you have a party with all the other girls from the royal families living nearby. 

“Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice calling out to you, tearing you out of your gloomy thoughts. You whirl around to find her dashing towards you over the grass, holding the skirt of her pompous blue and pink dress up so she can run properly.

“Yuna! The gardener’s gonna kill you if he sees you’re trampling all the grass again!” She halts right in front of you, throwing her head over her shoulder so quickly that the tips of her long black hair almost hit you in the face. She eyes the crushed grass, in which the path she took is clearly visible, and when she turns her head back to you, she sticks out her tongue.

“Well, nobody needs to know it was me,” she cheekily replies before letting out a mischievous laugh, eyes sparkling with joy. You smile at the sight, and having her with you brings you some peace of mind. You reach out to wrap your fingers around hers, entwining them. Then you take a proper look at her. 

“You look beautiful today,” you whisper as you gaze at her with adoration in your eyes. 

“I think you meant to say I look especially beautiful today?” she replies and you laugh, before you lean in to place a quick peck on her pink colored lips. 

“Of course,” you say. You find surprise in Yuna’s expression.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you scared someone will see us?” 

“They’re all busy celebrating that the only daughter of the house will finally be married off anyway…” you answer, and you fail to swallow the bitter aftertaste the words leave in your mouth. You’ve been putting up a strong act all day, but now that it’s just you and her, your face drops to a frown. You feel Yuna putting her palm against your cheek, making you look at her big eyes, before she pulls you into a hug.

You two have always been together since you were 7. Yuna’s family lives quite nearby, just over the hill that also leads to the village. It’s like you two clicked almost immediately, and it’s not like you never fight, but you wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. And then one day you both began to realize that your friendship was slowly turning into something more, and you’ve been secret lovers ever since. 

Yuna is lucky, in your eyes. She has four sisters, and so her parents aren’t that hung up on her having to marry as soon as possible. Besides, whenever her father would ask her what kind of prince she’d want to marry when she was a kid, she would always shake her head vigorously, insisting that she wanted to marry you instead. You suppose her parents always thought she was just too young to grasp the concept of love, but ever since she’s gotten a bit older, she tends to dodge that question.

You on the other hand are the only child your parents have been blessed with. Back when you were still a little girl, that came with its own set of advantages, because they would always devote themselves fully to you. But now that you’re older and have reached the age where you can get married, you wish you had a few siblings to share the attention of your mother and father with. Then maybe they wouldn’t have arranged you to marry the oldest son of another family they’re close with. Apparently they helped your parents out with some financial matter just before you were born, and so your father promised his only daughter to them as the future wife of their oldest son once you’ve reached the age of 18. And that day is tomorrow.

Feeling Yuna’s warm embrace while thinking about your more than unpleasant reality, you feel like crying. If you’re married to a man, would you be able to keep seeing her?

“Oh there you are!” a distant voice echoes through the inner courtyard, and you two separate. Yuna’s comfort being torn away from you like that, leaves you feeling like somebody had cut the ground from under your feet for a moment. 

“She’s feeling nervous so I thought I should come out to talk to her a bit,” Yuna explains to the woman who had just shouted at you. She’s one of the staff at your palace, and she’s helping out to make the party run smoothly today. 

“Y/N, your parents are looking for you! Your father can’t start his speech without one half of the lucky couple missing!” she explains, an excited smile showing on her sun-kissed face.

“I’ll be right there! Just a minute!” you shout back, and once she disappears inside, you take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders. You give Yuna an insecure look, but she squeezes your hands in hers and answers with an encouraging nod.

“You can do it. It’s just a speech,” she says, and you try to focus on that for now, without thinking about what that speech will lead up to as soon as morning comes.

You walk back inside, and the guests welcome you with applause and cheering. The moment you have to leave Yuna’s side to sit next to your fiancé instead leaves you heartbroken, but the bright look in her eyes remains everytime you glance over to her during your father’s way too detailed speech. Well, he only gets to do this for one child, you think, might as well let him ramble on for a bit longer. 

Eventually even he runs out of words, and when it’s time to toast, you raise your silver cup and make eye contact with your soon-to-be husband. You catch yourself thinking how you’re glad the kissing part won’t happen today, but even just sitting so close to him is bad enough. It’s not even the fact that he’s several years older than you, but you’ve just never really liked him. He doesn’t look like it from afar, but once you get to know him a bit you notice how highly he thinks of himself - and how lowly of everyone else. What’s more is that you feel the scrutinizing gazes of both his father and his mother resting on your figure with every move you make, as if one wrong gesture will make both of them get out of their seats to jump at you and give you the scolding of your life. You’re a bit scared of the cold looks on their faces, and even the walls of their luxurious home emit no warmth. A shudder runs down your spine, and just as you hope nobody noticed, the man next to you puts his arm around you.

“Are you cold, my princess?” You feel a need to throw up at him calling you that, but you manage not to let any of those feelings surface. 

“I’m okay,” you deny it, hoping he would turn away from you, but he seems to have other plans, as he rises to his feet and you have no choice but to do the same, so as not to cause a scene. His arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist.

“I shall take Y/N up the chambers to warm her up a bit,” he announces. You hear someone whisper how they feel bad for you that you’re freezing, and then your eyes shift to Yuna, who is about to jump up out of her seat herself.

“I will take her,” she says, coming to your rescue, but your fiancé pulls your body away from her just before she can grab your hand.

“There is no need,” he responds, putting a certain emphasis behind his words. He wants to be alone with you, you know that, but right now you want anything but that.

“The husband should entertain the guests, shouldn’t he?” Yuna argues, “And even if the party isn’t held at your own home, these people are still your guests as well. Or am I wrong?”

“They will be fine for a few minutes, right?” He now turns towards the crowd all gathered around the dining table, waiting for their agreement. Using this moment of distraction, Yuna wraps her hand around your wrist and pulls you out of his hold.

“A woman is still the best at taking care of another woman who does not feel well. Once she is legally your wife she will be in your care, but for today I think it is still the duty of her family and closest friends to be there for her.” She speaks loudly, factually, and without too much emotion. She wants to be taken seriously by the tall man standing in front of her, because she knows that without his approval, she won’t be taking you anywhere. Finally, he sighs.

“Fine then,” he agrees, even though he isn’t happy about how things played out for him. “Take her.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble, still in shock over what just happened, and you let Yuna walk you upstairs at a quick pace. You only halt once you’re in your room, standing by the foot of your bed, and she has closed the door that leads out into the hallway.

“Are you okay?” she asks as she turns around and you rush over to her, taking her face into your hands and you kiss her for as long as the capacity of your lungs allows you. You don’t know how to answer when you separate, but the way she looks at you as if her heart was breaking in a million pieces tells you you can’t just remain silent. It must be taking a toll on her too, that she’s about to lose you to that man.

“I-” you stammer, “I’ll be fine…” However, she shakes her head.

“I don’t believe you,” she answers. “I don’t believe you will be fine with a man who makes you feel so uncomfortable by just sitting next to you.”

“I’ll get used to it…”

“You will have to bear his children, Y/N.” Upon realizing what that implies, you feel the knot in your stomach growing, and you have to take a deep breath so as not to throw up on the spot.

“I will-”

“Let’s run away,” Yuna cuts you off.

“What?”

“Let’s run away, Y/N,” she repeats. “You and me.”

“But-” you stutter, “but my parents! They will be so mad at me if I do that…”

“Not if you never come back.” Her mischievous smile returns to her face as she speaks those words, and she takes a hold of both your hands. With her thumbs stroking their backsides, she adds quietly, “We could be happy ever after…” 

You look into her eyes. You take one thorough look at them and you find nothing but sincere care and love for you, and in that very moment you know there is only one right answer to this question.

“Alright.”

You’re running. Hand in hand, you’re running as fast as your feet carry you. You just have to make it to the little forest to the north of the palace, then you would be safe, but for as long as you’re on the open grass field you’re at risk of being spotted. 

“Yuna, I can’t-” You feel yourself falling behind slowly but steadily. As the daughter of a royal family you’re not used to running so fast and for such a long distance, and you’re already out of breath, even though you still haven’t reached the safety of the woods.

“You can do it!” she cheers you on, but at the same time the weight with which you’re pulling her back is growing heavier. That is until she suddenly halts and crouches down, almost making you trip over in the process. You lower yourself to her level.

“Let’s take off our shoes,” she says, already slipping out of hers. “It’s easier to run barefoot.” You understand and nod, then you do as she says, and you both leave your pair behind to take off running again.

You only let go of Yuna’s hand once you’re well inside the forest. You lean your exhausted body against a thick tree, trying to regain your breath. Your mouth is dry from running all the way here, but you doubt you would find clean water anytime soon. Yuna too seems a bit tired out, though she looks like she took the run a lot better than you did. She looks around and eventually her eyes widen. Something must’ve piqued her interest a bit deeper into the woods, because a smile is growing on her lips now. She takes your hand to lead you down a narrow path between high growing trees.

“Watch your step,” she warns you. You can’t see the ground well in the darkness of the night, so you have to be careful not to step onto any small animals or traps set out by the huntsmen of the village. Eventually you make it to a small clearing in the middle of the forest, the grass and flowers dyed a silver tone by the bright light of the moon shining overhead. You stop in your tracks and gasp at the sight in front of you.

“Wow… I’ve never seen anything like this…” you mutter, taken aback by the way the force of the moon seems so much stronger out here, when you’re not looking at it through the windows of the palace. Yuna joins you in marvelling at the scenery for a while, until she takes a few light steps forward and spins around to face you.

“Y/N,” she calls out your name and tears your attention away from the moon. You find an expectant smile on her face. “Do you think it’s already midnight?”

“I… don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“Let’s say it is,” she grins. “Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

“O-okay…” You do as she said, and for some reason your heart starts pounding again. You feel something being put around your neck, with her skin grazing yours for a moment, before she tells you to open your eyes. You feel the cold metal on the skin above your chest very clearly now, and you look down on yourself to find a silver necklace decorating your decolleté. 

“It’s a windflower. Do you like it?” Yuna asks, watching your reaction with great interest. 

“I love it!” you exclaim, taking the jewelry between your fingers to have a closer look at it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Then I’m glad.” She sends you a sweet smile. “Oh, you know what we should do?”

“Hm?” You can’t even properly ask, when she already reaches for your hands and pulls you along with her to the middle of the clearing, spinning you around.

“We should dance! To celebrate,” she explains and pulls you close, putting one hand on the small of your back. Even without music, she leads you effortlessly. It’s as if your feet are flying above the cool grass, and the happiness filling your chest leaves you no choice but to let out a joyous laugh. You thought you had used up all your energy while you were running earlier, but somehow dancing with her like this makes you forget all about your exhaustion.

You stop spinning and swaying eventually, both dropping down into the grass, beaming smiles on both your faces. Words aren’t needed between you two, the loving gazes you both exchange are enough, and eventually you find yourselves sharing a sweet kiss, arms snaked around the other’s body, heads full of nothing but thoughts of the other. You feel like you’ve never been as happy in your whole life as you are at this very moment, and so you wish this night would never end.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Yuna whispers once you part, and you can still feel her warm breath on your skin as she speaks.

“I love you,” you say, and just when you want to go in for a tight hug, you see something move behind her in the woods. For a moment you hold still, thinking it might be a fox or a wolf, but when you realize it’s a man, fear hits you like a slap to the face.

“We need to run,” is the only thing you can hear yourself say, before you get up and dash into the opposite direction, Yuna right behind you. 

“Stop!” a male voice yells at you, and another one shouts,

“Y/N, wait!” Not one person, but a whole group of people is chasing you. You feel your feet growing tired within seconds this time, and Yuna overtakes you with ease.

“Come on, Y/N, you need to run faster!” The worry in her voice and all over her face is apparent, but you know you can’t keep up with her, no matter what you do. She holds out her hand to you, but you hesitate to take it. And then you stand still. “What are you doing? Run!” she shouts, though even she should know it’s too late.

“Run away, Yuna,” you say, making sure to put enough force behind your words that she has no choice but to listen to you. “I’m sorry…” The next second you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, and in front of you, you see the girl you love running away, just like you told her to. 

“Finally, we found you.” Your father’s voice barely reaches your ears as he speaks from right behind you. All you can focus on is Yuna’s back as she slowly disappears into the darkness, and once you’re sure she’s gone, your body sinks to the ground and you break down crying.

It’s a sunny day in early spring. You’re strolling through the inner courtyard of your home, finding countless colorful petals that have fallen to the ground and will soon begin to wilt. The windflowers are about to become dormant again, telling you that warmer days will soon arrive. And it also means that your birthday is drawing near, as well as your first wedding anniversary.

And the day that you last saw Yuna.

“Milady, lunch is almost ready,” one of your parents’ staff lets you know from across the garden. You look up, finding her standing inside, by one of the windows. You nod at her to signal that you understood, and she takes off to return to her work immediately. You let your eyes wander through the yard one more time, before turning your back on it and returning to the inside of the palace. 

There hasn’t been a day that you haven’t thought of Yuna. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, you are shaken away from a nightmare, reliving the whole experience of attempting to run away and eventually losing her. However, usually you think of her fondly. Even though you haven’t heard a single word from her since then, you’re hopeful. She isn’t the type to give up easily, and you couldn’t imagine her leaving you behind forever, no matter how much the ever passing time is trying to convince you otherwise.

When you sit down in the huge dining hall to consume your lunch, nobody else is there, except for the woman serving you your food. Your mother is probably still upstairs, reading and studying, while your father and your husband are out in the woods to hunt. They wouldn’t return before sunset. 

You have almost finished your meal when the servant puts a white envelope on the table in front of you.

“Milady, you have received mail.” You wipe your mouth with a tissue, before reaching for the letter. You turn it to the other side, then you turn it again, but no matter where you look, you find nothing but your own name written on it.

“No sender? Weird…” You open the suspicious envelope, and once you unfold the paper inside, a premonition starts blossoming inside you. Having a hunch that you know this handwriting, you start reading.

“My love,

It has been too long that we haven’t seen each other. Still I dream of you every night. If you still feel the same, there will be a black carriage arriving at your palace on Friday. It will lead you to where I live now.”

There is no name at the end of the note. Instead, it is signed with the drawing of a windflower. 

“There is no mistake…” you mutter, and the servant leans in a bit.

“What is…?” she allows her curiousity to take the better of her. However, instead of answering her question, you tell her to pack your things for a weekend trip. It’s already Wednesday, so you don’t have much time left.

“Oh, and,” you stop her before she can rush upstairs. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Not my husband, not my father, not even my mother. Understood?”

“Yes, milady. It will be a secret just between us.” With an excited giggle and a sincere gaze, she gives you a nod, and then you watch her ascend the stairs at the end of the hallway.

Friday comes by quickly, and once your father and husband have left to go to the woods, you spend your day sitting on the wooden bench in front of the entrance, instead of roaming through the yard for hours. You have brought a small book to keep you occupied while you wait for the carriage to arrive, but with how nervous you are you can barely focus on the words. From time to time you close your eyes, wrapping your fingers around the silver flower on the necklace that you’ve been wearing every day since Yuna gave it to you, and you take a deep breath to calm your fast beating heart. 

Morning goes by and noon arrives, and still no sign of anyone picking you up. The servant who helped you pack your things steps outside and puts her hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You haven’t told her where you’re going, neither that you probably won’t return if the carriage really takes you where you think it will. However, from her actions it is clear that she senses this journey is an important one to you, and that with every hour that you’re waiting and nothing happens, your heart grows heavier.

“Do you want some of the food I made for your mother?” she questions. “You could use the energy.” You think for a while. And just when you’re about to agree to her suggestion, you hear the sound of hooves clopping on the paved street leading to your home. You jump to your feet and stare at the big gate while you can hear the blood rushing through your veins. Expectations rising, you feel like time is passing as slowly as it possibly can, and then finally, two white horses come into sight, pulling a black carriage and grinding to a halt just in front of the gate. You take a hold of your bag and you rush forward. 

“I have been sent to pick up Mrs. Y/N… is that you?” the carter asks, after stepping down from the carriage.

“Yes, yes that is me,” you answer, almost stumbling over your words.

“Do you have the letter?”

“Y-yes, one moment.” You let the bag sink to the ground and then rummage through the pockets of your jacket, eventually finding the piece of paper. You show it to the tall man, and after discovering the unusual signature, he nods. 

“Step inside,” he tells you, then he reaches for your bag to place it inside the carriage for you. As you’re climbing up the few steps into the cart, you look back over your shoulder once. You try not to show the sadness on your face which you suddenly feel upon realizing you’re really leaving your home forever, fearing it might give away your real intentions to the servant still standing outside and watching you. However, she has pulled out a white handkerchief, and is now waving at you cheerfully with the fabric swaying back and forth. With a thankful smile you wave back at her with your bare hand, before taking a seat and having the carter close the door for you.

The journey takes all afternoon, and though you feel yourself growing tired after the first few hours, there is no way you could sleep sitting in a carriage that keeps uncomfortably vibrating because of the bumpy road. You’re lost staring out the window, watching the scenery passing by slowly. Your gaze drops to your hand, and the wedding ring on your finger comes into sight. You haven’t taken it off even once for almost a year, even though you never wanted to put it on in the first place. So when you finally remove it from your ring finger with some difficulty now, you feel like you just escaped the prison you’ve been locked into on your birthday last year. You stare at the ring, now held between your index finger and thumb of your left hand, like one would stare at any valuable possession that actually was never wanted. Looking out the window and finding a freshly tilled field, you take a big swing with your arm and throw the ring as far as you possibly can. The farmer who will find it eventually will sell it for good money, granting his family a few years free from worry and hunger.

The carriage stops eventually, as the sky is already turning orange, and the door of the cart is opened for you. Again, the carter helps you put your luggage down onto the street, and you thank him for his services, paying him extra. He drives off, and eventually you find yourself standing next to the street alone. There is nothing but meadows and fields and peace all around, and in front of you, you find one lone little house, surrounded by fences behind which you see a few pigs and a cow. You pick up your bag and start walking towards it, steps quickening the closer you get. And then you stand in front of the wooden door and you drop down your bag to knock. You wait, and for a little while nothing happens. This is until you hear someone calling out your name from behind.

“Y/N?” You turn around and you don’t believe your eyes when you see her. There, merely a few steps away from you, stands Yuna, holding a wooden bucket in her hands, dressed in dirty clothes meant for doing farm work, her hair tied up in two practical braids. You run towards her and she sets the bucket down to catch you in a tight hug as soon as you’ve reached her.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me forever,” you say as soon as you feel her arms around your body and her warmth enveloping you. 

“How could I do that?” she asks. “I just needed some time to build up all of this,” she continues and you loosen the embrace to be able to look at her face properly. Even though there is no trace left of the wealthy girl she used to be, her beauty still hasn’t left her. “I needed to bring you to a place that is safe and where no one will find you… if you’re planning to stay, that is,” she adds, lowering her voice a bit.

“What do you mean, if? Of course I want to stay with you,” you answer without hesitation, then you pull her closer again, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Y/N.” She pulls back just a little bit, and then she places her index finger under your chin, tracing the outline of your bottom lip with her thumb. “I really, really missed you,” she repeats, and you can’t stop yourself from following your urge to lean in and kiss her. It’s as if all your feelings for her which you couldn’t convey to her in the past year are pouring out of you now, and into the kiss you share. And from the way she moves her lips against yours confidently, and with no signs of wanting to pull away anytime soon, you can tell it’s the same for her.

“Let’s stay together forever, okay?” she whispers once you break the kiss, and her hands find your shoulders, eventually sliding down to your hips to hold onto you, just to make sure nothing and nobody can take you away from her ever again. “This time for real,” she adds, and then she presses her lips against yours once more. 

[melo-yello]

💤Can’t Sleep💤 w/ 💥🪨KiriBaku🪨💥 HeadCanons

Pairing(s): KiriBaku X black!reader, Eijirou Kirishima X Katsuki Bakugou X black!reader

A/N: fluff and ANGST. Like lots of ANGST. I had a rough week and honestly not very much sleep. What can I say. Sue me, I wanna hug and somebody to watch a movie with.

💤💥🪨 Lay on your stomach opening and closing your eyes as you try and convince yourself to sleep. Kirishima snores softly with an arm around Bakugou’s waist. He’s been pretty stressed lately so he gets to be middle spoon. Baku in turn has an arm draped over your shoulders.

💤💥🪨 The soft and peaceful looks on the boys’ faces are nothing but safe and warm and reassuring . Yet here you are unavailable to close your eyes long enough to drift off to sleep. Each time you close your eyes your heart attempts to tear a whole through your chest. The dim red light of the clock reads 2:56 as you slip out of Baku’s embrace for a glass of water

💤💥🪨 You settle on Jasmine tea instead. Quietly pulling a the kettle from the cabinet and turning on the tap just before placing it on the stove. You busy yourself in your phone in order to banish any form of thought from your head. Soon just blankly browsing through TikToks as you wait for the water to boil

💤💥🪨 The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention as you hear heavy footsteps and the creaking of the bedroom door. Short angry grumbles are traded with deep groggy grunts as the footsteps close in on your position. You glance up to see the time is now 3:22 and you hear the kettle whistling for the first. Mostly likely what woke your boyfriends to begin with. You scowl at the kettle.

💤💥🪨 “fuck you.” you curse under your breath snatching up the kettle to quiet it’s shouting as the two set of red eyes fix on you in the dim light of kitchen. Kiri’s long red hair pulled back into a messy plat, and Baku’s fluffy ash blonde sticking out in all directions except for the right side flatten to the side of his skull

💤💥🪨 “Oí, Chuchu Soul, do you have any idea what time it is?!!” Baku squints tiredly placing a hand on his hip. “That’s actually a good one.” You giggle surprised by his creativity. “I know right?! And they used to call him uncreative.” Kirishima smirks between a yawn. “ Well?” Bakugou’s features don’t change. More likely mad that he’s awake at this ungodly hour than anything else. “Was it another panic attack, Pebble?” Kiri questions walking to rest his hand on your lower back. You don’t acknowledge his soft gesture and busy yourself with pouring the newly hot water into your large mug with it’s awaiting tea bag.

💤💥🪨 “Run that shit back, Eiji?!? When was this?” Bakugou’s foggy apathetic sleepiness raises to concerned confusion . You curse under your breath for the third time tonight. Kiri racks his tired brain for an explanations as he trades tired glances between the temperamental blonde and the vaguely suspicious one blowing at tea. “Pebble you didn’t tell him about Friday Night?” He frowns looking down at you. “...i forgot...” you whisper sipping the overly hot tea and burning your tongue. Hell you wouldn’t have told him either, but he was right beside you when it happened.

💤💥🪨 That Friday night. You couldn’t speak. You stood in a dark room. Small and cramped. No windows. No doors. Just glowing ink on one wall in barely legiable font. Prove It. As soon as you touched the lettering it went blood red and the water began to pool at your feet. You begin to lose your composure trying to find an exit. In seconds the water is at your waist. Then your neck. Then the ceiling. Like that you’re choking and sputtering trying to find. The walls go translucent. Larger than life figures with unmistakable silhouettes and Pro hero customs hold your box in each hand. You bang tight fists to gain their attention. Your blood mixes with the water and you could barely breath. You thrashed across the sheets desperately trying to snatch yourself from your current nightmare. Suddenly Kiri shaking you awake and he’s coaching you into breathing again.

💤💥🪨 The memory of utter helplessness washes over you all over again. You sigh in frustration as tears pool at the corner of your eyes. “Come here, Pebs.”

💤💥🪨 Without another word, Kiri scoops you up bridal style and takes a seat on the couch placing you in his lap. Baku takes the seat next to him gently taking the hot tea from your trembling hands. You hadn’t even realized they were shaking until you touched his steady ones. “Babes, we hafta talk about this. Including Friday, this makes 3 days of shitty sleep. That’s not good or sustainable, Knucklehead.” Bakugou sighs placing the mug on the coffee table before wiping away a tear rolling down your cheek.

💤💥🪨 “It’s not like I don’t wanna do better, Kats. Eiji. I’m just...” you trail off mid explanation. You clasp fingers over your soft lips. Opening twice to speak, but only croaks come out. You try very hard to find a tangible reason for your reluctance to sleep, but there were none. Kiri squeezes your shoulders reassuringly and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your bonnet.

💤💥🪨 “We know you’re trying, love. It’s ok to be scared sometimes. Even the resident hardass, Katsuki still gets nightmares.” Kiri offers doing his best to let you ride these feelings out while comforting you as well. “Yea.”Baku’s grip tightens at the mention of his own nightmares before leaning his head on your legs

💤💥🪨 “I just can’t trust it ok! It’s scary. I’m panicking in sleep now?!! I’m only getting worse and now I crying about. FUCK! I’m just a scared bitchy crybaby who can’t sleep.” You sigh overwhelmed by all the physical closeness and their consistent and unwavering support. You mentally kick yourself for the not realizing sooner that you trusted them enough to hurt like this in front of them. There’s something that unnerves you about that. Tears streaming at full force at this piont

💤💥🪨Kiri holds you firmly to chest tucking your shaking form under his chin. Baku moves to wrap an embrace overlapping Kiri’s arms. “Just let it all out, Babygirl.” He hums leaning his head on your shoulder. Your chest tightens and your fingers curl into angry fists. Suddenly your frighteningly fierce temper rears it’s ugly head.

💤💥🪨 “No no no NO! Stop It! STOP ACTING SO NICE! STOP ACTING LIKE I DESRVE THIS! BE DISAPPOINTED! BE UPSET!! TELL ME TO TRY HARDER! TELL ME TO TAKE BETTER CARE OF MYSELF! TELL ME IT’S EASY! REALLY EASY! BE ANGRY I’M FUCKING IT ALL UP! BLAME ME! I BLAME ME! I blame me... I blame me for not being...better.” You fume trying to push them away. You do your best to squirm out of their gentle comfort and tender embrace your lovers have you wrapped in. Neither one of your boys moves. “No way, Pebs.” Kirishima says resolutely. “Not a fucking chance, Teddy.” Bakugou nods with the same unchanging confidence. The rage in your chest melts as fat tears and roll down your brown cheeks.

💤💥🪨 A heaving and broken sob racks your entire body as you fall apart in their arms. Anger subsides into terrified uncertainty and overwhelming futility settles in its place. Tears and mucus flood down your face and soak Kiri’s t-shirt. Sniffles from above draws you out of the dark thoughts swarming around you. Surely enough tears drip slowly down Kiri’s cheeks. Instinctively you cup his face with trembling hands. “...Sorry.. I’ll be strong...just gimme a sec” he mutters as his broad shoulders slump and he moves to bat away the falling droplets. Bakugou grabs his hand and kisses it while wiping the red head’s face. “Eijirou, you don’t have to. Not right now” You sputter between choppy breaths.

💤💥🪨 His usually unwavering features muddy with insecurity. A fairly uncommon expression for someone so death defyingly optimistic and confident. “But it’s what I’m good at. If I can’t be strong for the people I love most then what good am I?” He retorts apathetically tightening his grip as the tears still trickle. You slink an arm around his hips, and place your face to his chest. “Bullshit. You’re plenty strong enough for us, Eijirou. Stop being so hard headed!” Bakugou raves putting a hand behind his neck and his forehead against his for emphasis before continuing, “You’re allowed to feel more than one thing. You are complex and unique and fearless and fearful all in one. You’re human, Eiji. It’s ok.”

💤💥🪨 “Katsuki, you’re so compassionate and kind.” You hum softly and absentmindedly almost. You don’t know why this observation came but it just feels right. Eiji smiles leaning in the blonde’s embrace. “Honestly Kats, you love remarkably deep and painfully unselfishly. Thank you.” Kiri hums kissing his cheek and you do the same. Hot little tears rest at the corners of his dark red eyes. Most of the public thinks he’s some kind of angry asshole devoid of any softer emotions. Comments on your relationship often criticized Katsuki for snagging partners ‘much nicer than he deserved’. And just like that you are scooting over to make room for Bakugou in Kiri’s lap. 

💤💥🪨 “Such a shitty little week.” Baku sighs with misty eyes. There’s a small comfort in the collective collapse washing over the three of you. All of you holding the hurt from the others in hopes it would just fizzle away like a bad dream. It didn’t. You sob, Kiri sniffles, and Baku lets two hot tear slip from his glassy eyes. None of you break contact with each other. Your fingers linked with Kiri and Baku’s in the opposite hand. A head glued affectionately onto the red head’s broad shoulder. After what seems like a lifetime and you can’t cry anymore and feeling a surprising amount of relief sinks onto you, you clear your throat.

💤💥🪨 “Wanna watch How to Train a Dragon?” You rasp with tired and strained vocal chords. “I’ll get the popcorn.” Kiri sighs kissing each of you on the cheek as he ushers you both out of his lap. He sashays into the kitchen to find a bowl and the popcorn. Baku stands handing you your cool tea as he grabs the remote. Flipping decisively through Amazon Prime, he queues up the movie as he settles onto the far side of the couch to lay out fully. You sip contently tucking your knees to your chest so you can press the soles of your feet into his. “That tickles.” Bakugou deadpans wiggling his own toes. Soft giggles flutter out of your chest.

💤💥🪨 Kiri strolls back in the room with two large bowls of popcorn and a blanket on each arm. He bows presenting them to their proper owners. Movie theater butter for Baku and kettle corn for you two to share. You sit your now empty mug on the coffee table as Kiri retakes his original spot and you settle comfortably into his lap cocooning you both in a cozy weighted blanket. Baku draped in a light throw typically the first to complain about being hot. The DreamWorks title sequence floats across the screen, and wave of peacefulness falls over the tired trio. Less then five minutes in, you and Bakugou snore quietly as Kiri’s heavy eyelids fight to watch the next couple scenes