#peeks head into one piece fandom

[paper-lilypie]

freedom

[illusioninfnty]

learning curve ↠ day 6 ; dry humping

↠ monkey d. luffy x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, dual virgins, luffy and reader are inexperienced, jealous!luffy if you squint, takes place a bit after opla season 1 so luffy is aged up

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Luffy?” You call for your captain, peeking your head into his quarters. “Is everything okay?”

You noticed that your cheery and optimistic captain had been unusually quiet the past few hours. He never had gone that long without some sort of exclamation or crazy action, and his odd behavior was worrying to you. So when he finally retreated to his room, you decided to follow to see what was up.

“Oh!” Luffy’s eyes widen, as he says your name, clearly surprised to see you. He sends you a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug, going inside and closing the door behind you. You take a seat next to him on his bed. “I don’t know,” you start. “You just seem…distant. You can tell me what's bothering you.”

Luffy sighs, taking off his hat to run a hand through his curls. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel just so frustrated. But no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it!”

You were confused too, unsure why Luffy wasn’t able to brush this off like he always did. Until a lightbulb went off. You remember Sanji mentioning urges that men get sometimes, and how they need a woman to fix it.

“It sounds like you might have some tension, you know, down…there.”

Luffy pauses, taking in what you said, before his eyes brighten. “I think you’re right!” he exclaims. “Oh wow, that makes a lot of sense now.” He goes quiet again, a sheepish look spreading across his face. “I don’t know how to get rid of it, though.”

You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think I’m able to help you with it.”

Luffy jumps up and grasps your shoulders. “Alright!” he cheers. He sits back down next to you and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly in thought. “That actually makes a lot of sense. The feeling always gets worse whenever I’m around you. I guess you have to be the one to fix it then, huh?”

“O-oh.” You stutter. Not only did you just discover that your captain (who you may have had a tiny bit of a crush on) was sexually frustrated, but he was like that because of you. A wave of heat rushed down your body.

“Yeah.” You confirm to Luffy, hoping to not seem too excited about this whole situation. “I just have to get on top of you.”

Luffy nods, spreading his legs and leaning back on his forearms, inviting you in. You immediately notice the boner he’s sporting, which makes you heat up even more. You seat yourself right on top of it, causing the two of you to moan harmoniously.

You start to move yourself on top of Luffy, his clothed cock hitting your pussy in the perfect spot. The fabric of your underwear rubs against your clit, causing your wetness to begin to stain it.

You reach your hand down to palm him through his shorts, hoping that you're bringing him pleasure from at least one of two ways. Luffy looks up at you with curious eyes.

“How’d you know to do this?” he asks you.

“I heard Sanji talking about it. He says guys feel like that a lot. Pent up, ‘s what he called it.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Have you done this with him?”

“W-what? No!” Your hands scrunch up in his vest and you swallow hard. “This is actually my first time doing anything like this,” you admit sheepishly, eyes downcast.

Luffy grins. “Yeah, me too!” he says brazenly. “Guess we’ll figure out how to do this together!” He laughs. 

You send a matching grin back as you continue to grind on top of him. You’re practically sopping now, an audible sound happening when you rock back and forth on Luffy. His cock throbs furiously, and you gasp when he grabs your hips.

He starts to rock back onto you, pumping his hips upwards into you. You lean forward as the sensation weakens you, and Luffy buries his face into your neck.

“Feels good…” he mumbles into you. You hum in agreement as you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.

You increase your pace, wrapping your arms around Luffy as you both press close against the other, grinding each other uncontrollably. 

Luffy suddenly stills your hips and moves you onto the bed, face down and ass hanging off the edge. You gasp in surprise.

“Want to try this,” he breathes out as he hovers over you. You’re met with him thrusting against you from behind, hips moving wildly as he lets out low groans behind you. Luffy wraps his arms around your midsection, holding you in place.

You’re strung out and helpless as Luffy humps into you, his pulsing cock hitting against your clit. Your wetness has fully soaked your bottoms, and Luffy is able to thrust his cock between your clothed lips with ease.

Your captain moves with reckless abandon, hips jutting against your own. Neither of you can talk past groans and whines. This act feels primal, both of you desperately chasing your release.

His hands on your waist tightens as he humps into you and his groans are loud in your ear. You arch yourself into him, attempting your best to rub yourself against his cock.

He moans out your name into the crook of your neck as his body covers your own. “You feel really great,” he continues, his voice cracking. He moves faster and faster against you, seeking his peak. 

Your hands fist the bedsheet as you bounce back and forth against his thrusts and grinds against your clothed pussy. “Luffy!” you cry out. You can feel his hips start to move out of rhythm and he lets out a final low moan before you feel the stickiness of his cum seep through his shorts and onto your own.

Both of you are panting furiously, tired from your romp. Luffy rolls off of you, collapsing next you on the bed. You turn yourself onto your back and lean towards him, basking in the pleasure you just received.

Luffy turns his head towards you. “I don’t want you to do that with anyone else on the crew.” He says, with more seriousness than you’ve heard from him all night.

“I wouldn’t think of it.” You hesitate to continue as you prepare for disappointment with your next statement. “But—if you want, we can do this again soon. If you’d like to.” You mentally hit yourself in the head for stumbling over your words so embarrassingly.

He sits up, seemingly recovered from his orgasm. “Are you kidding? You don’t even need to ask! ‘Course we are!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around your captain and giggling into his chest.

[writerofjourneys]

So I have a request if it’s alright with you of zhongli x phoenix reader since zhongli is a dragon right and there’s a lot of story’s apparently about a dragon and phoenix being a perfect match and I don’t know if this is true or not they represent Yin and Yang

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐮𝐬

A/N: I think I might make a continuation of this or something. I just love this idea, thanks for this, Anon! I did change Reader’s animal form from a phoenix to fenghuang since I feel is more fitting, so apologies for not meeting your exact request. And I’m also sorry for this ridiculously long wait, uni has been a pain. I don’t know how I feel about this piece, but I’ve kept it for months already and I think it’s well enough to post.

Fandom(s): Genshin Impact

Zhongli x (Adeptus)Wife Fem Reader

Summary: With the longest lasting relationship in all of Teyvat history, the union of Rex Lapis and Regina Lux is widely celebrated and respected across the seven nation than just Liyue. Even living as mortals now, your love remains, in story and in present.

One-shot

Content: Reader is an adeptus fenghuang sometimes mistaken for a phoenix, romance, fluff, Liyue Archon Quest, Liyue lore, Soft Zhongli, Retired/former Archon Zhongli, married Zhongli/Reader.

Warnings: None.

Main List | 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | AO3

Feeling the familiar stir of your rousing consciousness, you sensed the familiar touch of a hand caressing your head. Gently stroking your locks of hairs before rubbing a thumb against your cheek.

Blinking your eyes open, you’re greeted with the familiar face of your husband staring back at you, warmth and adoration in his gold eyes. The corners of his lips rising a little upwards. He always seems to look at you as if you were the most ethereal thing on this planet after all these years together. But you knew that if he were asked that very question, that was already going to be his answer.

“Good morning, my love.” Morax, now Zhongli, softly greeted, voice calm and deep. He pushed a stray hair strand away from your face.

Usually sleeping shirtless, the real colors of his arms were out in the open. A gradient of pitch black from his shoulders to a light tint of gold from his hands, some black scales peeking out. The gold symbol rune lines trailing over his whole arms gave a faint glimmer amidst the dim darkness of your shared bedroom. Or more like nest, where an abundance of pillows and blankets and a mattress as a base were scattered about that looked more like a makeshift nest than a typical bed.

Although he sticks to wearing gloves and long sleeves, Zhongli still finds it nice to have them off, which revealed his gold markings. Visible proof of his godly identity. You liked to trace them with your own hands, twinkling cosmic irises admiring their details.

“Mm, morning..” you sigh, moving to huddle closer to his body.

Zhongli welcomes your presence automatically. Wrapping his arms around your waist loosely as you’re pressed against his chest. Typically preferring to wear his own dress shirts to sleep, as they were big enough to be nightgowns on you. You commonly wore them when you were able to stay at home with your husband.

Zhongli lets out a deep purr within his chest, a sound that came straight from a beast, but its tone calmer rather than aggressive or of warning. He always adored when you’d wear his shirts, the dragon side of him pleased to have you basked in a mix of both your scents and the statement that you were his. His lover, his wife. His one and only mate.

A purr of your own responded back, soft and gentle. A different contrast to his more deeply masculine one.

Being an adventurer for the Adventurer’s Guild meant always traveling somewhere. Which can also be unpredictable about where you’re going to with commissions. Though it was possible to make a request for more local locations. Even as an adeptus posing as a human, you had to blend in with the habits of a mortal.

Of course, Zhongli welcomely offers his own assistance to accompany you when he was available. Another way to spend time with you.

Your husband hugs you a little tighter as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing through your locks of hair and playing with some of the coloured streaks. “Shall we get ready for the day, little mate? We have time to spend together before I must meet with the Traveler in the afternoon.”

It was an endearing nickname he gave you all those centuries ago, with the size difference between you. Though not by vast amount, it was clear in any form your husband’s height was more than yours.

You hum in response, “I suppose we should..” you snuggle closer, taking in his warmth and his familiar scent that completely relaxes you. “I do prefer when we get ready together.”

Zhongli smiles so softly, “You had been away for quite awhile, and I am always affected by your absence.“

A small giggle escapes you, “I came back in time before the Rite of Descension, Mora. Especially to return your Gnosis.“

For a certain period of time, your husband gave his Gnosis to you for safekeeping. Even though he was fully capable of taking care of it himself, for who else would be able to steal from the Warrior God and eldest of The Seven. Though it wouldn’t be so hard to believe the Fatui could try something, their Archon made a contract with the god of contracts. He handed you the chest piece shaped power object to look after in his stead as another gesture of his unwavering trust in you.

You knew already that he trusted you without hesitation, but it was thoughtful nonetheless. Like how going on dates, giving gifts, and doting on a lover were among a list of acts in a loving relationship. To the both of you, this was just one of them.

“Yes, but you should already know, beloved, that when you must leave my side, I miss you every one of those times.”

Now a tint of pink blooms over your cheeks. Honestly, this man never fails to turn you into a blushing new bride all over again. Just like all those centuries ago when your Zhongli began to court you.

“And what is this old dragon to do without his beautiful fenghuang to complete him as his other half?” he chuckles.

“Maybe miss out on something meaningful.” you playfully teased before replying back “I always miss you when we’re apart, too.” and nuzzled his neck. “There’s no better company in this world than yours.”

Your husband looks on with adoration, giving you a light squeeze. “I can’t agree more, my wife. You have always been my blessing.“

The rosy color on your face didn’t escape Zhongli, who chuckles, a sound melodic and soothing. He had a habit of saying that. It was a common remark to describe you all those years ago by the mortals. Being referred to as such without personal connection left you indifferent towards it mostly. Which then changed when Zhongli courted you, and your relationship developed more intimately.

“Should I help style your hair, darling?” he caresses your locks spreading across your pillow. The little few coloured highlights flowing down visibly.

“You know I enjoy it when you do.” you kiss his jaw.

Walking around Liyue Harbor with arms locked together, you and Zhongli strolled over the lively bustling city, browsing over the stands and products of merchants and customers.

Before, the two of you were having breakfast in your own adeptal abode, taking in the scenery of the simulated sky, the ginkgo trees, and the lush green grass. And considering it was just the two of you alone, away from prying eyes, Zhongli guided you to sit on his lap, taking the one seat with a table of some Liyue dishes.

He had a habit of holding you close in private. Which came with the territory of having a relationship during a dominating war between gods. In all the tragedies and conflicts that passed for such long lifespans for both of you, holding each other was grounding, comforting, and reassuring.

“I wonder if the people will continue to celebrate our anniversary now that we’re gone.” you mused, fiddling with your marriage rings on your finger as your arms are between your husband’s from holding it. Sparkling starry eyes admiring some of the city’s traditional decor displaying the dragon and the fenghuang. The nation’s symbol of harmony.

“Lapis Lux is one of Liyue’s biggest festivals that predates even Lantern Rite. The celebration of the longest lasting love between us and inspiration for the people.” replied Zhongli, resting his bigger hand on top of your smaller one, where your glittering rings were worn. “With such a large influence to known to the other nations of Teyvat as well, such a holiday could never be dismissed.”

“Hm, that’s true.” you lean your head against his arm warmly.

Zhongli gives a chaste kiss to your temple, his own gaze drifting to the dragon and fenghuang symbols. He could tire of seeing them. “How does flying together sound after dinner, my Qingxin? Once I’ve settled my errands for today. We haven’t done that for some time.”

You perk up at that, flying together was always an activity you two loved doing since the beginning of your relationship. And while flying out in the open wasn’t option anymore after stepping down from godhood, you still had room to privately fly in your own sub-space home.

“Yes.” you smile. “I’ve missed those recently. We’ve both been a little busy. Speaking of…” you trail off, curious. “How goes the funeral planning? I’m sure you’ve been having a fun time, darling.”

It was ironically humorous and perhaps morbid to have the deceased be the one to plan their own funeral ceremony after all.

Zhongli’s amber eyes gleam with a hint of amusement and seriousness. “It’s been going smoothly. The Traveler has been a kind aid.”

The brunette had informed you of his own meeting with the Traveler and his floating companion as you talked about your latest visit to Mondstadt. Soon, it would be time to meet the Traveler again at Third-Round Knockout after previously settling things at Bubu Pharmacy.

You both did separate for a time for Zhongli to plan the Rite of Parting as part of his own occupation and duty.

“Well, it couldn’t have been easy for him. The Archon he had planned to meet next ended up dead before him the second he arrived.” you mused.

“Yes, while I do feel it unfortunate for him, the time for our departure from our posts had no better timing than now.” he replied. “After all, how dare the Geo Archon perish and leave his wife a widow? It goes against the very vows of their union. The most sacred of all of Rex Lapis’ contracts is with Regina Lux.”

Zhongli gazes at you with humour evident on his face. A teasing smile on his lips. “The whole of Teyvat may smite my spirit for such grievance.”

You gave a small laugh, “Of course, how could he?”

The performance of making both of your deaths in front of a crowd believable was a… unique experience. It went without saying that when Zhongli decided to retire his Archon role, he couldn’t leave you behind, especially to deal with the aftermath of the people’s attention on you because of it.

The Rite of Descension came with Rex Lapis descending upon his people for his divine predictions, while Regina Lux accompanied him with divine counsel for Liyue’s governing structure and measuring of time, seasons. Both greatly respected by their people for their eye for strategy.

And as your husband said, you both made a vow to be at each other’s sides no matter the unexpected circumstances. As the ultimate contract between you, in a mix of desire and responsibility.

“Hey, look!” Paimon says as she and Aether stopped on one of their walks in Liyue Harbor to meet with Zhongli when they spotted you together. “It’s (Y/N)! We only ran into her once in Liyue. And she’s with… Zhongli? Is Paimon seeing what you’re seeing..?” she blinked in confusion and surprise.

Aether gave a similar expression before calmly thinking aloud, “To be so close to each other like that.. Does that mean the spouses they mentioned to us before was each other all along..?”

“Let’s go ask! Paimon wants to know!” she urged with curiosity.

Hearing a familiar voice call out to you both, you turn to be greeted by the Traveler and his floating travel guide.

“Oh, hello Traveler, Paimon.” you casually greet with an easy smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

You first met the traveling pair at the Adventurers’ Guild back in Mondstadt. Recognized as a famous adventurer across the seven nations, your job naturally consisted of going to different places. The three of you made friendly conversation and good terms.

On your last day in the city, you spoke to the pair in meeting again in Liyue. You did run into them as you said when they came for the Rite of Descension, but hadn’t seen them afterwards until now.

Paimon only made a gawking face as she darted eyes between you and Zhongli. Mind still processing.

“Hi, (Y/N). We were about to meet up with Zhongli at Third-Round Knockout.” the blond reciprocated casually, unlike his pixie guide. Aether eyed the wedding rings on both of your left hands intriguingly. It very much complimented each other. Even the designs of your outfits bore similarities side by side, yet individually different; like your color palettes.

“That’s right, it was about that time.” Zhongli responds, hand on his chin.

“Wait-wait-wait! Hold on a second!” Paimon exclaimed with a wave of her arms. “The two of you are married to each other?!”

Your husband was unfazed as he answered her. “Why, yes. We’ve been married for a very long time now.”

Paimon seemed to finally calm down after the surprising fact. “When you guys were talking about being married, we didn’t think it was between each other!” she scratches her head. “And to think that we already met you both without realizing… Talk about a coincidence..”

You and Zhongli look at each other before lightly chuckling.

“Yes, that’s true.” you agreed. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret or anything. But it is a funny correlation.”

You smiled at them, “I also appreciate you helping my husband for the Rite of Descension. It’s a big task to handle alone, especially now.”

“Oh, we don’t mind.” she shakes her head. “It works out for all of us.” she then mumbles to herself, “Guess we know who does the finance in this marriage...”

“Paimon.” Aether lightly scolds.

Paimon immediately tries to correct her words, apologizing for running her mouth like that.

You only chuckle a little at her, Zhongli wasn’t offended and merely brushes it off, “In any case, since we’ve run into each other, why don’t we head to Third-Round Knockout now?”

You then let go of your husband’s arm, much to both of your reluctance. “That’s my cue then. I should be taking my leave anyhow. I have something to discuss with the Branch Master at the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt you.” apologized Aether, sheepish.

“It’s no problem.” you dismiss, unperturbed.

“I will see you in the evening, then, my dear.” Zhongli kisses your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Mhm, see you.” you hum softly, squeezing his own hand before walking off, the long hem of the back of your Liyuen dress fluttering behind you.

Staring off after you for a moment, the ex-Archon turns his attention to the traveling pair; who tried to adjust to this sudden smitten side of him. “Let’s go then, shall we?”

Standing beside each other hand in hand again, you and Zhongli both watched down at the harbor as Osial, an old foe, rose from the waters, letting out a fierce roar echoing in the skies.

The Jade Chamber flew to the serpent god as adepti and the mortals gathered

together to stop him. Along with the Traveler’s aid.

“Now the real test begins…” you mutter, grasping Zhongli’s hand firmly.

“So it has…” he quietly replies. He then turns to you, “Although I’m confident in Liyue’s own strength, whatever happens from here on out, I’m happy to have experienced this mortal life with you.”

You smile at him lovingly, “For me, too. No matter what, I’m with you to the end.”

Zhongli brings you to his side, wrapping an arm around your back as you both observed the fight unfold.

When Osial was defeated and sealed away once again, proving Liyue’s independent perseverance. You and Zhongli were able to fully let go of your godly lives to mortal ones.

And when Zhongli went alone to Northland Bank to keep his end of the contract with the Tsaritsa for his Gnosis, Aether and Paimon had to adjust to the other surprising fact about your identity once realizing who Zhongli really was.

If Morax was said to truly be devoted to his wife, then there was no conceivable way he’d be with another. There wouldn’t be anyone else more committed to the contract of marriage than the god of contracts himself with the god of light, Alloces.

How, as the two gods fell from the sky to their end, their bodies twisted around each other in an interlocking embrace. Where the Lord of Geo held his beloved protectively even after their vessels were deprived of their divine souls.

You recalled when speaking with Cloud Retainer from a recent visit how Paimon had vocally mistaken you for a phoenix. With your adeptus form being a bigger bird from Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper’s, your bird form lightly glowed with the colour of gold and sunlight, end feathers shimmering like gold mist, some of your multicoloured hair streaks as feathers of red, blue, and green.

The female crane adeptus made a huff of disapproval at the mixup, wondering how many others outside Liyue would always make the misconception and ignorance of the spouse of the only married Archon, the only other god to rule Liyue alongside Rex Lapis being a phoenix. It humoured and intrigued you of this myth some people mistakenly believed.

While it was appreciable to see an old friend and attendant be of defence in your honour, there was amusement in seeing Cloud Retainer’s reaction to it.

There was also the small irony that you carried a fake Pyro Vision on you to blend in. You didn’t actually have the same compatibility to it like your husband, the master of his element, but your power and magic abilities could make them appear pyro.

Zhongli had suggested you could try Geo, but you thought it interesting to be of a different element from him.

“One would think after so many years has passed, the mortals would come to understand the keen difference between a phoenix and a fenghuang.” she says with disappointment. “Especially to the being who taught them the teachings and ways of the stars and light, who brought prosperity and counseling of Rex Lapis’s ascension as one of The Seven. Including the perfect example of marital union! Honestly, the ignorance..!”

“It’s all right, Cloud Retainer.” you assured. “They don’t mean harm or malice by it.”

“While that is true, your leniency is what truly comes out most, Regina Lux.” she responds.

“Well, it wasn’t something I had to worry about. And it’s not a common misunderstanding.” you take a sip of the teacup presented to you. “In any case, with the Qixing, Liyue may turn out just fine.”

Cloud Retainer shifts her gaze to the sky, still begrudging. “If it by your words, may your judgment be sound, Regina Lux.”

“You are not from this land.” A deep male voice spoke a few feet away from you.

Calmly turning your head, you look to see a man who was clearly not mortal. You immediately knew who he was, his reputation and appearance easily recognizable. A white hood over his head, gold rune patterns decorating his arms that traced as veins to gold coloured hands, dressed in interesting garments. In your observation, it glowed and symbolized power.

You meet his golden gaze with your starry ones. “No, I am not. Merely here to view the scenery in front of me.”

He tilts his head a little, gold eyes intense as he searches for anything to be wary of, the eyes of a beast. “Is passing through another deity’s territory common for you?”

“By harmless means, I bear no motive but to cross the lands soundly.”

The deity stares at you contemplatively, tone mildly rumbling and brutish. “Hm, you should exercise more caution next time, a god’s reaction is unpredictable with unfamiliar faces of another.”

“Fair enough.” You stand from your seat from the view of the sky and mountains. “Shall I not disturb you any longer, Lord of Geo? I am not ignorant of your strength.”

His eyes turned half-lidded as he took in the likeness of the night in your irises, “You are aware of me as I am of you, Lady of Light. A being untethered of followers, roaming over the lands. But never claiming, your presence doesn’t deter me.”

“Then I may continue watching the landscape from here?”

“I—”

“As I thought, you were here, beloved.” Zhongli’s voice calmly spoke from behind you.

Turning your head, you looked back to see your husband making his way towards with a sweet smile on his lips.

The hand that was playing with the rectangular diamond shaped Cor Lapis gem hung on the bottom front of your elegantly designed chocker now rested on your lap. The Qingxins around you lightly glowing white from its petals under the moon, blooming in full.

“Hehe, you know me so well.” you say in light amusement, looking fondly at him as he comes to sit beside you.

You both occasionally went to a cliff to gaze down at Liyue Harbor, like spectators of an artwork. Watching from afar to the pleasant view of the busy and prosperous city. Sightseeing from far away to look at how far Liyue had come to be what it is. How both of your guidances and co-rulership led to this nation of prosperity.

“Came to join me, did you?” you tilt your head playfully.

“Naturally so,” he wrapped an arm around you to rest on his side, moving the other to grasp the hand on your lap. “I was deprived of your touch.”

You smile, feeling serene and content as you snuggled into him more, head resting under his chin. “Better now?”

Zhongli hums, “Very much so, but don’t think I’ll be letting go now, dearest.”

A small laugh escapes you, “Oh, I know.”

Taking some moments of silence, the both of you watched Liyue. How the city lights glowed in the night sky, the peaceful atmosphere around you, it was everything you had hoped it would all be.

Taking a breath to sigh, you’re mildly surprised to feel the familiar trace of Zhongli’s hand brushing your cheek before you noticed him tucking a Qingxin flower into your hair, breezing pass one of your dangling noctilucous jade earrings.

While Glaze Lilies were known to be a national flower of Liyue, for its appeasement to song and moon, regional from the land, you always had an affinity with Qungxins among the nation’s flora. While Glaze Lilies could be resided in fields where domestic ones were gardened by people, you found interest in Qingxins locating on cliffs and mountain tops. Like they were trying to reach the sky and view the land below.

Though you found numerous flowers across the seven nations to be just as wondrous. As someone who used to travel place to place without your own territory, your journeying spirit never left. After settling down from your marriage with Morax for the past thousands of years, becoming an adventurer as a mortal brought back this old side of you. But nothing beats the domesticity of marriage with your husband and the land you looked after together.

“You are radiant, baobei…” the ex-Archon gently spoke, lightly touching the intricate hairpin attached to your half-up bun. With the design of your fenghuang form on the back of the fabric of your slit skirt, with hints of his dragon-qilin adeptus form as well. It laid the hidden meaning of your identity and claim to your husband. Details intimate and hidden for both of you.

Credit to Menogias’ keen eye and sense of fashion. Who foound a hobby in coordinating your outfits together.

It only made this god of old before you pleased and content at the sight. Including the chocker necklace you always wore. With gold and silver accents and a rhombus shaped Cor Lapis gem dangling. Matching the rhombus pin on his tie and your ring. Hiding the faint traces of an inhuman bite and the Geo symbol imprinted on the back of your neck, along with another on your navel and an actual tattoo of his adeptus form. The dragon side of Zhongli always carrying a possessive and marking trait, but never against your own will. That also included having your fenghuang form tattooed on him underneath all his layers.

The tattoos themselves invisible to the naked eye unless revealed or with great elemental perception.

Gold amber eyes twinkling with warmth and love as he gazed at you, always able to melt and flutter his stone heart. “Throughout all these years together, I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to be by my side all these years.”

You smile adoringly at him as you press your body as close as physically possible against his, “I love you so much you know..”

Your husband strengthens his hold on you as his other hand sweetly rubs the exposed thigh from one of the slits of your dress and away from your thigh high boot.

“I always know, my sweet mate.” Zhongli leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “And I love you, much more than you are already aware.”

You smile very softly content over your husband’s shoulder. He then pulls you onto his lap sideways, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You are the most precious treasure to me in all of Teyvat.” With both half-lidded eyes, he gazes upon your irises, that move and change like a reflection of the night.

“And I will never stop reminding you that I am yours for eternity, my wife, my love, my treasure. I dedicate my life, soul and heart to you, and only you.” he then pulls you onto his lap, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Even when, one day, we reach the end of our time, we’ll be together.”

You lean against him as you both look upon the city and the landscapes you’ve watched over for centuries.

“To this mortal life of ours now.”

Zhongli smiles softly, “Yes, to this mortal life we have.”

[kolbalissh]

morning afters ⊹₊⟡⋆

carlos sainz jr/oscar piastri - read on ao3 !

teen and audiences above (suggestive content), 3.2k words - oneshot

the carcar established relationship domestic morning intimacy study that no one asked for, yet i delivered

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor."

A/N : this is my first ever fanfic written for the f1 rpf fandom, and boy did i ramble like my life depended on it pls enjoy thank you and i wholeheartedly welcome requests and feedback go wild 🤸‍♀️

Oscar’s eyes flutter open from the rustle beside him. The morning is soft, there’s light peeking out from the ends of the blackout curtains of his Hilton hotel room. The room cold, air conditioner is set to low - just how he likes it - it’s almost ritualistic the way Carlos will make sure the room is cold enough like it is consolation for how hot he’s going to make Oscar feel every time they’re together, how sweaty and messy they get, the room is sure to be cold to cool them both down.

He can hear the older man get up, putting the blanket that lifted from Oscar’s body when he arose, back on his bare, pale, freckled, and now, marked body - so he doesn’t get cold.

Oscar looks, though he pretends he hasn’t woken up, he doesn’t understand why himself. Peering through his lashes as the light from the balcony seeps through, he can see Carlos’s silhouette, eyes still blurry and unfocused.

He’s putting his shirt on, the same shirt Oscar almost tore apart from his body. That’s another thing that he doesn’t understand about himself when he's near the Spaniard. He’s known to be calm, he is calm, he’s always been. The next iceman, they say.

But Carlos gets him riled up, gets him impatient, always hungry for more. If the next morning there aren’t the indents of Oscar’s presence on the older man’s body, then Oscar would say he should’ve tried harder.

Carlos puts his jeans on, now. The marks of the younger nails, the long drag across his shoulder starting from his back, where he held on - because Carlos was a bastard like that, always has to look at Oscar when he’s inside the other man, maybe it’s the Spanish in him that made him this romantic.

Oscar never complains. Though, he’d rather get demoted back to an Alpine than say out loud that burying his head into the crook of Carlos’s neck, feeling the slight stubble tickle his cheek, breathing him in as he holds on for the wreck of it all, is one of the few things in life that’s made him feel safe.

And if Carlos looks at him with those brown eyes of his, that holds the world and more when he’s making Oscar gasp and whine, if the way he looks at him makes him feel like he’s flying on cloud nine, then that's between him and himself only, and maybe the deity that he falls on his knees for when there's a particularly hard race in a week.

And when Carlos calls him ‘mi muñeco’, after kissing him in the most tenderest way possible, even then Oscar won’t complain. He remembers asking him the first time he whispered the term into his ear, he probably should have been offended when he understood. He probably should have gotten a bit mad too.

But when Carlos said, “My doll, built to perfection - mi muñeco, you are flawless, like a porcelain doll made out of beauty itself.”, accompanied with the softest kiss on his temple, as his thumb caressed the younger’s cheek like one wrong swipe and it would leave him broken in pieces - then how can one expect Oscar to find offense in that? He accepted it, if Carlos wants him to be his pretty flawless doll, then so be it.

Oscar stirs a bit, the duvet on top of him moving along with him, catching Carlos’s attention. The remnants of last night still linger on Oscar’s face. His brown locks were messy, ruffled, and frayed across his forehead. The corner of his eyes with the stain of dried tears, tears that Carlos knows so well how to draw out, by giving him just enough and then pulling away, having the Australian man grasping for more. More is never enough. Carlos knows, and yet somehow he still gets him to his release, always just enough.

Oscar’s eyes are awake now, adjusting to the light in the room, and his bare body adjusting to the temperature - he already misses the warmth of Carlos, it’s as if his tan traps the heat of the sun itself, later radiating throughout Oscar’s rather white skin - the only tan that Oscar can get without getting his skin to burn till red, though, he burns red for other reasons.

He’s looking at Carlos now, and the other man notices that the brunette is up and awake, the hint of the early morning doze still radiating off of him. Oscar looks comfortable, wrapped up in himself, head resting on his forearms, peering at Carlos from the little nook he’s created for himself. The duvet weighed him down, and his soft brown waves curtained his eyes, barely disrupting his vision.

Carlos walks over from the foot of the bed where he’s buttoning the last of his shirt, the sound of his steps over the wooden floor coming towards where Oscar’s been silently gazing at him, still sleepy. Oscar can smell his cologne already, the aftershave entering his periphery, a scent he loves inhaling mostly from the dip of Carlos’s neck itself during the many times he’s found himself after a long day curling up in the other man’s arms and chest.

Oscar stirs a little to get a better look at the man in front of him now, looking down at him like he's the single most interesting thing in this quiet morning. Carlos’s hands come to his face to move the few locks of hair in front of his eyes all the while taking a seat at the edge of the bed - Oscar without thinking already shifting to give him the space to do so, yet still laying in his morning comfort.

The older man's calloused fingertips trail to his face, warm against his sheet-indented cheeks, caressing the soft skin there. The apples of Oscar’s cheeks warm against Carlos’s hands - the slow soft motion of his thumb drawing circles has Oscar leaning into the touch like a reflex, almost as natural as breathing to him.

“Did I wake you, tesoro?”

Oscar hums as he shuffles out of the tangle he was in to be more open, blinking slowly, taking his time to let his eyes water again, the sting of waking up still lingering. Carlos had so many of these nicknames for him, he’d lost track of how many there were anymore, though he had his favorites. Almost every term that rolled off the older man’s tongue was a term of endearment, more or less more affectionate than the one before. Tesoro. Oscar knew this one, the first turns of the cogs in his brain for the day being translating one of Carlos’s names for him. He was still caressing his face, Oscar couldn’t help but let his lip curl softly.

“You should go back to sleep,” Carlos murmurs to the man lying in front of him, his palms moving to the sides of Oscar’s body running up and down in slow motions, to lull him back to slumber, delicate and mellow.

“What’s the time?” Oscar mutters out, morning voice out on display. He’s comfortable under Carlos’s touch, with no signs of getting up soon.

“Around 7.”

“Up so early?” Oscar whispers, his free hand that’s not supporting his head finds Carlos’s bigger one, joining their fingers together. An action so small, but so dear to the Australian man. He gets to do that. No one else does.

“I’ve got a flight at 12, amor, Max’s plane you know,”

Oscar relishes in the little world he is in right now. It is as if the hotel room is guarding this tender morning between them. He fiddles with Carlos’s fingers, absentmindedly fidgeting with them with soft touches. The skinship is comfortable, familiar, and mostly, regular in feel. If you told Oscar even a year ago that he would be spending Monday mornings post-race in a room with Carlos Sainz holding hands like teenagers then he would have called you a madman.

Oscar wants to ask him to stay. It’s unreasonable, he knows but Carlos isn’t as strong a man as you’d think he is. It could work, Carlos barely says no to him, and spoils him too much even for Oscar’s taste.

And they’re supposed to be rivals. The media is still running the rivals to an awkward truce narrative, but they’re far from it already. They’re so different but so close, so similar. Magnets - polar opposites attracting each other like a force of nature. Inevitable, bound to be, and natural.

It is as if they pulled each other to themselves, even without meaning to do so. Be it the start of their acquaintance, where one crashes on the track, the other is always found at the scene of the crime or be it what they are now, always finding each other even in the most hectic schedules to give each other their time.

Oscar could ask him to stay. Tell him to slide back into bed, take the jeans and the shirt he just put on back to the ground where they were. Have Carlos snake his arm around his waist, pull him close to share the heat of his body to put the younger man to sleep, let the Spaniard bury his face into the brunette’s pale nape, and breathe him in. The plea circles at the tip of Oscar’s tongue, in battle with itself on whether to present or not.

But Carlos knows Oscar better than he thought he did. Carlos speaks again, beating the other man to his own request.

“You know I’ll see you soon next week, cariño?” Carlos’s thumb strokes circle on Oscar’s hand now, a small action of consolation accompanying his reassurance to the unsaid wish that had popped up in Oscar’s mind.

“Yeah,” Oscar replies with a smile, reflecting in his half-lidded drowsy eyes with a glimmer. He always had an eye smile anyway, it always showed on his face when he’d grin genuinely. Spending time with Carlos brought more of those out than he could count. There used to be a time when all he did was glare at the other man with furrowed eyebrows, it’s not like it has stopped, Carlos still knew how to get under his skin the same way he did at the beginning of their infatuation. However, that remained mostly on track.

Carlos replies with a smile of his own, dragging the hand holding Oscar’s up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss in between his fingers. The brunette allows it to happen, some mornings he likes the extra attention that Carlos gives him a little more than necessary. Being the center of affection for the other man has become something he’s accustomed to.

Carlos slowly gets up from where he’s sitting, the mattress instantly fluffs up from where he was. He walks over to the foot of the bed again, looking for the other sock somewhere around. Oscar is still resting, admiring the man in front of him - waltzing around the room looking for his things like his phone, his wallet, and his stupidly expensive perfume that gets Oscar’s head dizzy like a good high.

Oscar stirs again, pulling the duvet on top of him closer to his chin, tucking himself in between it lazily observing the other man prepare to leave. It’s times like this he wished that maybe he wouldn’t have to. The schedules of the races and the rush of time made it almost impossible for them to overstay their welcome at each other’s. If it’s leaving for Baku today, then it's Vegas for another week. And so on. Except for the breaks they get, and it’s something Oscar’s come to like more. Before Carlos, it was catching up on sleep, playing video games, and eating at another spot that Yuki mentioned in the group chat. Nothing’s changed in his plans, just the addition of a certain brown-eyed individual’s company - and that made the time away from the adrenaline-filled weekends more desirable.

Oscar sees Carlos pace around the room suddenly, in search of something. He’s looking under the sofa, and flipping the hotel-issued magazines off the coffee table. Oscar shuffles and supports himself on his elbows, peeking over to where Carlos was currently jamming his hand through the side of his duffel bag again.

“You looking for something?”

“I can’t find my watch,” Carlos motions to his wrist with a face that looks scarily close to what a kicked-puppy would look like. His shirt sits taut against his arms, and the sleeves are rolled to his elbows, showing all kinds of forearm action.

Oscar sits up a bit more now, his bed head resembling more a bird’s nest than a head of hair. He ushers towards the counter near the sofa with his head and Carlos follows the motion to where his eyes lock on to the silver gleaming from the top of the counter, amidst some other clutter that has Oscar’s name written all over it.

“You kept it there before we, you know,” Oscar mumbles out with a small chuckle, it’s just them there - there’s no need for Oscar to talk properly, the energy of fully waking up hasn't risen in him yet, and he’d very much like to sleep in today.

Carlos walks over to grab his watch, puts it on swiftly, and locks it in place on his wrist. The action has Oscar attentive, more attentive than needed one might say, but he can't help but stare at him - Carlos’s soft black hair falls to his forehead as he tilts his head down to secure the watch on his hand. Carlos reaches towards his bag, bringing his phone out of his back pocket, and checks the time.

Oscar is still sitting up, slouching, the hue of sleepiness still washed over his face - he looks incredibly soft at the moment. His lower half was covered by nothing but the white, heavy duvet, and his pale body speckled with moles and freckles, and fresh new marks of last night.

Carlos walks over to him again, shoving his phone back where it was. His right hand comes up to embrace Oscar’s face, slowly falling to where his chin is to tilt the brunette’s head up to him. Carlos bends down to kiss him on the cheek, the warmth of his plush, red lips against the soft of Oscar’s cheeks. Oscar leans in his head, savouring the contact of the kiss.

When Carlos pulls away there is a crinkle in his eye, a smile he can't help but have, looking at the younger man in front of him. His hand still holding onto Oscar’s face that he lets graze across his cheek, just to feel his warmth. Oscar always ran hot, even with the temperature low, his flush kept him warm.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor.”

Oscar feigns fake annoyance and furrows his eyebrows, with a quick eye roll before going back to peering at Carlos, awaiting his request.

Carlos breathes out another laugh, early morning Oscar had to be one of his favorite Oscars. The brunette got more clingy, especially on days like this when Carlos had to leave early and they knew it’d be some time again till they could loiter around each other’s comfort again. He leans in first, and Oscar instantly does so too, like a reflex, craning his neck up to meet Carlos halfway.

Their lips meet, and Oscar can taste the lip balm on the other man already, his own chapped lips chasing after the other’s plump ones. The kiss is soft, just like the ember of light flooding through the gaps of the curtains. Carlos tilts his head, deepening the kiss a bit more, a kiss that is unlike the ones they shared last night - filthy, wet, and heated. Oscar’s sleepiness is cut short a bit by the feeling of Carlos’s contact. He breathes him in and presses his tender lips against the older man’s. They linger against him, and Oscar can feel himself humming into it, his shoulders relaxing against Carlos’s touch. Oscar places chaste pecks on him in the middle, his hand reaching up to cradle Carlos’s cheeks. His stubble grazed Oscar’s palm, his hands were far smaller than the other man’s - they barely covered Carlos’s face whereas Carlos’s would have engulfed half his face already. Oscar loved the feeling, he loved leaning into his hands, letting himself be rested in its warmth.

Oscar pulls away first, breathing slightly heavier than he was a while ago, a wash of pink decorating his cheeks, his ears - running all the way down to his neck and collarbone. Carlos licks his lips pulling away as if to taste Oscar again. The Spaniard is left with his chest bubbling and a smile plastered across his face. Oscar’s hand goes to retract back to himself but Carlos catches it first, placing another few short, quick kisses on the other’s pale warm hand, contrasting against Carlos’s tan, gruff, and hairy one - adorning his silver watch.

“Get some sleep, love,” Carlos whispers to him so quietly, that Oscar would have barely heard him if not for the otherwise silent room.

Oscar dozily nods, his eyes already back to being half-lidded. Before he can collapse back into every nook and cranny of the mattress under him, Carlos decides to be even more of the romantic bastard he is, placing one final kiss on the top of Oscar’s head, into the soft mess of his chestnut waves which sealed that Carlos was finally leaving.

He feels Carlos pull away from his space, leaning down to grab his bag and shuffle away towards the exit of his room.

Oscar felt his eyes get heavier and it got harder for him to keep them open. He can hear Carlos rustle, further away towards the door in front of the small foyer now. The click of the only ambient light on in the room echoes through, Carlos switches it off and the room gets darker than it already was, the only light existing is the cracks of early morning sunlight peeping from between the heavy curtains.

The room is still cool and Oscar’s eyes are closed now as he starts drifting off into comfortable slumber. The last thing he hears is the soft tick of the door as Carlos closes it behind him, the sound diffusing with the white noise from the central air conditioning that’s soothing Oscar back to sleep.

Oscar breathes deeply, he can smell Carlos’s lingering perfume in the air and on his pillow. The room feels like him, even if it is Oscar’s space. He feels his senses get hazier, the last remnants in his mind being the thought of the other man. His man.

And if Oscar wakes up much later in the noon, getting some sleep, as Carlos had said - and he doesn’t find the older man beside him, then that’s okay.

Oscar will see him soon, anyway.

thats it! forgive me if the spanish nicknames are wrong or something i tried my best and i in no way shape or form know spanish well - hope you liked it and if u wanna see more stuff just flood my ask box (it heals me literally seeing reqs) and remember, carcar 4 lyfe xoxo

[sazwritesstuff]

Late at Night (in the light of the tv screen) | Logan x afab!reader

Logan comes home early after being away on a mission. You're sleepy, maybe a little grumpy for being disturbed, but that doesn't stop you for welcoming him home safe. Pairing: Logan x fem!reader | Fandom: X-Men | Word Count: 2k | posted on AO3 here A/N: this started off as a cute short drabble and then it turned into smut (this is the first time I've written smut btw, sorry if it's bad) | minors do not interact! TW: sexual content/sexual references, swearing, unprotected sex, penis in vagina sex

You had gone to bed hours ago, lying in bed all alone with Logan off on a mission. It wasn’t the first time that he had been gone for a few days but it never got any easier. The man was meant to return late the next day, most likely getting back by late afternoon or early evening if it had all gone according to plan.

You were always a little worried when Logan went on a mission. At least this time he had left as part of a team. Sure, you still worried about him but it put your mind just a tiny bit more at ease knowing that he wasn’t alone. But it hadn’t stopped you from being up for far longer than usual, tossing and turning with thoughts of all the things that could go wrong.

Anxious images of Logan bruised, bloody, with broken bones kept swimming around your mind.

No matter how many times he came back in one piece you couldn’t help but worry.

It never got any easier.

Trying to quieten the anxious thoughts in your mind you had put the TV on low, your bedroom dark except for the colour leaking from the screen. Providing a constant buzz that helped stop your racing thoughts for just long enough that you could actually sleep.

You weren’t sure if you’d been asleep for minutes or hours when your bed suddenly sank to one side startling you awake. Eyes flying open. Your body sliding towards Logan’s warm body where the mattress dipped. Stopping when your side bumped against his.

“Thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.” You grumbled, snuggling your head into Logan’s shoulder. Sleep still clinging to your mind.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you cradling your body to his “Was meant to.” he mumbled into your hair.

You hummed, feeling yourself beginning to fall back to sleep again. Your body relaxing finally.

That was until you felt Logan shift again besides you, moving you so that you were now lying on your back as he placed his head on your tummy. All the air flew out of your lungs in an instant. Your eyes flying open once more “Logan!” you hissed giving his hair a tug with your hand.

The man was heavy. You could’ve sworn that Logan’s big metal skull was getting heavier by the second!

“What?” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to a slither of skin peeking out from your t-shirt. Ignoring you struggling under his weight.

Wheezing you let out a “Get off!” giving his head a quick smack.

With a huff, Logan slipped his arms around you and rolled so you were now lying on top of him again. “There. Now, go to sleep, y/n.”

“I was about to until your heavy dumbass head nearly killed me.”

“I can think of a different kind of head that’ll make you choke, baby.”

“You’re such a pig!”

He hummed, placing a light kiss on the top of your head “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, when you’re not trying to kill.” You grumbled. Snuggling deeper into Logan’s embrace.

He let out a bark of laughter, jostling you as he told you to “Go to sleep baby.”

“I was until you woke me up.”

“I can leave if you want-” he said beginning to raise from the bed.

“Don’t you dare!” you say sitting up, your voice softening as you let out “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Hmm. I’ve been thinking about you all day too.”

Making a split-second decision you let out “Fuck it. Take off your clothes.” Quickly pulling your t-shirt up over your head.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep?” Logan said smirking up at you. His eyes quickly flicking down to your exposed chest before going back to your face.

Throwing a leg over Logan’s hips, you settle yourself onto his lap. You leant down, whispering against his lips “I changed my mind.” Pressing your lips to his in a demanding kiss. Searching. Yearning. Filled with pent up desire and frustration.

Lips wild and hungry. Both of you fighting for dominance. Logan’s tongue invading your mouth. One of his hands tanging in your hair as the other dug into the back of your thigh. Pulling you closer.

You could feel his hard length beneath you. Pressing into you.

Tugging at Logan’s tank top, you broke the kiss, pulling it over his head. His lips moving to kiss down your neck as you dropped the fabric to the floor. Leaving open wet kisses on your skin. He kissed and licked a path towards your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking at the soft bud making the soft flesh hard and taunt under his ministrations. With his free hand Logan pulled at your other nipple between his fingers, ripping a moan from your throat.

“Logan.” You mewled, your nails digging into Logan’s shoulders.

“Tell me what you need baby.” He said looking up at you, flicking your nipple with his tongue before moving across to the other nipping at the bud with his teeth. Sucking, nipping, licking. Suck. Nip. Lick. Again and again. Building up a steady rhythm with his tongue.

“You.” You panted. Hips rolling against Logan’s hardness, your shorts and his boxers the only barrier separating the two of you “Please. I need you inside of me.”

He hummed, ignoring your demand, concentrating on your breast. Keeping up the pattern he’d created against your skin.

“Logan.” You whined rolling your hips on top of him. Causing a groan to escape Logan’s lips.

“Patience, baby.” Logan wrapped his arms around your body and rolled you onto your back. Leaning down he connected his lips to yours. Pulling your shorts to the side he quickly slipped a finger between your wet folds, gathering the wetness from your entrance and beginning to rub soft, slow circles on your clit.

Reaching one hand down you began stroking Logan over his boxers, feeling the hard, hot length of him under your palm, making him moan above you.

“Not yet, darling,” he grabbed your hand pulling it away “I want to watch you come on my fingers first.”

“But Logan-” you began to whine, stopped by the demanding kiss Logan placed on your lips.

“Be a good girl and come on my fingers, then you can have my cock baby.” Moving his finger over your clit just how you liked it, increasing the pressure just a little more and making you squirm. Rolling your hips to meet his hand, he smirked and asked “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded biting your bottom lip. Your eyes drifting shut as pleasure coursed through your body.

“Hmm. Keep your eyes on me, can you do that for me?” his voice coming out huskier, betraying just how affected he was.

“Feels- So good” you breathed, your voice breaking, hooded eyes latching onto Logan’s above you. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tried to chase his fingers, grinding your cunt even more on to Logan’s hand.

“Logan. Please. Please. More. You make me-” you gasped as you felt Logan shift above and insert two fingers inside “feel so good!”

“Fuck.” He breathed “You’re gripping my fingers so tight for me, darling.”

“Logan, I’m gonna, fuck-” you dug your nails into his shoulders “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me. Come on, baby, that’s it. Cum all over my fingers.” At Logan’s encouragement you came with a shout, chanting his name as you threw you head back in ecstasy. Logan’s fingers didn’t stop until you reached down and pushed his hand away as you began to feel overstimulated. Your body still shaking from your orgasm.

Logan brought his fingers up to his mouth, moaning as he sucked them clean. “You taste so good.”

You giggled, threading your hands through his hair and pulling him down for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his lips.

You felt Logan trail a hand down your body reaching down to pull your shorts past your hips and down your legs. Lifting you hips to help him slide the clothing off, kicking the offending fabric off of your foot.

From his head you racked your fingernails down his back, one of your hands going to the waist band of his boxers slipping them down his thighs. Freeing Logan’s cock from the confining fabric.

You felt Logan rub the head of his cock along your folds. Collecting the wetness there before placing it at your entrance and slowly sinking inside of you.

You moaned. Shifting beneath him, raising your hips to meet his. No matter how many times the two of you had sex you never got used to the thickness of his cock stretching you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gripping me so good. So tight. So fucking good.” He pulled out, leaving just the tip inside, before thrusting forwards inching further inside of you. “Perfect fucking pussy.” Setting a slow, languid pace Logan thrust deeper and deeper inside of you.

Pressing kisses against his collarbones you ran your nails up and down his back. Leaving red scratches on his skin that vanished as quickly as they appeared.  

Gripping your legs Logan moved them up over his shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress, hitting a new deeper angle inside of you. His thrusts picking up pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room creating a symphony as you both moaned and panted.

You could feel yourself clenching around Logan’s cock. Tighter and tighter. Closer and closer. Your second orgasm so close.

Leaving one hand on his back, nails digging into his skin, you reached down and began rubbing your clit. Gasping as you sloppily tried to meet Logan’s thrusts with your own.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed feeling you tighten even more around his cock as he looked down at where you were joined, his cock thrusting in and out “Good girl. Rub that clit, baby. Rub your clit for me. Want you to cum on my cock.” Thrusting deeper and harder into you, hips slapping together.

“Such a good girl. Rubbing your clit as I fuck that pretty, little pussy. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby? You want to come on my cock?” you nodded, words escaping you, “Then cum. Cum for me pretty girl. Cum on my cock.”

The knot in your belly tightening, tightening, tightening… and then it snapped. Eyes rolling into your head. Body pulled taut. Scratching at Logan’s back. Fingers still rubbing your clit. Faster and faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groaned above you. Pounding into you.

The grip of your cunt on Logan’s cock sending him over the edge. Logan’s thrust turning short and a little sloppy. Groaning your name as you felt his hot, thick cum flooding your insides.

Stopping after a few more thrusts before holding himself inside of you. Your body shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The two of you panting. Sweating and out of breath, Logan leant his forehead against yours. Keeping most of his weight off of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Such a good girl for me.”

Looking up at Logan, the light of the TV screen illuminating his features, you smiled. Sleepy, happy, content. The two of you out of breath and sweaty. Your body felt like a limp noodle.

Whining as Logan shifted, pulling his cock out of your slit, moving to get off the bed.

You watched him as he moved off the bed. Your eyes straying to his naked backside as he left the room.

Seconds later you heard running water in the bathroom before Logan padded back inside your bedroom with a wet washcloth in hand. Kneeling on the bed beside you he quick wiped up the mess he’d made before throwing the cloth into the wash basket by the door and lying back down next to you. Curling his arms around you and pulling your body to his.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your crown he mumbled into your hair “Goodnight, love.”

“Night, Lo.”

[luvfy0dor]

“Made Your Mark on Me, a Golden Tattoo ♡ ” Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; perchance ooc, profanity once

Description; Coloring in Chuuyas tattoos!

A/n; My friend and I were talking about cute romance scenarios today and she brought this up, so I wanted to write about it with Chuuyas because I think he would have tattoos. If someone has done this please tell me, I know I've seen a handful of fics with scenarios like this, but I can't remember any were in the BSD fandom or not.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya has a handful of tattoos, they're all really intricate and professionally done, but none of them are colored. That gives you the perfect opportunity to add your own creative twist on the art pieces. After rummaging through yours and Chuuya's shared home, not a single non-permanent marker could be found. You sighed, but ventured out to retrieve some.

After a long and treacherous journey to the store and back, you tossed the box of markers onto the counter. You couldn't help but feel giddy waiting for your husband to come back home so you could pitch the idea to him. A part of you thought he might say no, but you suppressed that with all your might and looked forward to his return with hope. You waited on the couch, scrolling through your phone. He shouldn't take too long, but every minute felt like ten to you in this moment.

Before you knew it, you heard the rustle of keys and the clicks of the locks. You jumped up from your spot on the couch, staring at Chuuya as he shuffles into the house and out of the relatively chilly and rainy weather. He lets out a sigh of relief before turning to you with a small smile. "Hey honey, how was your day?" He takes off his shoes, hat, and jacket, putting them in their designated spot as he waits for your reply. "It was pretty good, how was yours?" You ask. Upon being situated, he makes his way towards you, grabbing your hands and placing a soft pec on your lips. "The usual, kind of annoying, it feels like no one ever knows what they're doin', you know?" He says, seemingly happy to be home. You nod and understanding and rub his shoulder.

"Yeah, that sucks." You say. He nods, peeks into the kitchen for a second, and sits down on the couch, slouching back and patting the seat next to him. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, slightly revealing one of his tattoos. You take the hint and sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your fingers push his sleeve up a little more, tracing the outlines of the imagery. "These are pretty colorless, huh?" You say, glancing at him. He grins a little and nods. "Is this what those markers on the counter are for?" He asks, making you smile. "Yeah, do you care if I color them? I'm relatively good at keeping things inside the lines." You say, sitting up completely.

"I don't see why not. I should probably take this off, huh?" He says, starting to undo the buttons on his vest and then shirt in order to give you better access to his tattoos. You skittered into the kitchen, grabbing the markers and coming back to your husbands side. You gently opened the cardboard packaging before assessing your canvas. The first tattoo you wanted to color in was one of a very intricate flower, so you decided red would be a pretty option. Chuuya watches as you uncap the marker out of the corner of his eye. Your tongue pokes from the corner of your lip in concentration as you drag the marker along his skin, filling in the outlines.

You eventually fill a majority of the flower petals, moving onto the stem. You choose the green marker, holding the underside of Chuuyas arm while you color it. "You're doing a great job there, doll." He says, observing your near perfect coloring skills. "You should get them filled in like this." You joke, picking out another color for a different section. The hums quietly before nodding. "Maybe I will." You look up at him, a bit of surprise on your face. "What's with the look of shock, darlin'? Do you think I won't?" He asks, his head tilted to the side. You shake your head.

"I believe you will, I just think that's sweet." You say, making your new goal to make the colors pretty but unique. He watches the television while you work, making sure that your work contained as much love and effort as possible. After a while, Chuuya started to realize he's feeling the markers on tattoo-less areas. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked towards what you were doodling on his arm. He saw a variety of stars and flowers of your own. They were rather small, and Chuuya thought it was cute that you were making even more additions to his body art.

"You'll have to take pictures of these for me." He says. You hum in acknowledgement and finish up the flower you were doodling before capping the marker and returning it to its rightful spot in the box. You grab Chuuyas phone, opening it and taking a picture of the colors before handing the device back to him. He kisses your cheek in thanks before pulling you back into his side, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Thank you." He turns his head towards you. "What for?"

You look back down at all the colorful doodles. "For letting me borderline vandalize your arm." You playfully say, running your fingertips over his skin. "Don't be silly, it's not vandalizing, it's more of a lawful mural." He reaffirms while looking into your pretty eyes. "And it's cute stuff. It's not like you drew a dick or nothin'." He states, keeping you cuddled closely to him. You smile and give his hand a small squeeze before bringing his knuckles to your lips. "Yeah, you're right." You say with a small laugh. "Still though, thank you." He hums. "Ofcourse, doll, anytime you want."

A/n; I need the evermore ornaments SO badly. I NEEEEEDDDDD them. I'm gonna cry THE CONEY ISLAND ONE IM FJSJAKKAKS oh also thought I'd post a little more Chuuya before I post a ton of Fyodor because I got two asks revolving around him (I'm actually bouncing off the walls im so happy) and I've been talking up some ideas with a mutual : )

[littlefanficprincess]

K.O in Arcadia

Trollhunters x fem reader

Chapter: 0.5

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: A girl from the 12th century accidentally falls through a portal and finds herself in 21st century Arcadia.

A/n: A chapter for a fanfic I'm possibly gonna make when I'm finished with 9th grade Ladybug, if the fandom is still alive.

~~~

You in- and exhale, closing your eyes. You were sitting on the hard wooden floor, holding your arms stretched out infront of you. On the floor before you was a spell circle, written with chalk.

"Eaptia epe obaprrr sef tmemlo"

The words escape your lips, they were almost burned into your brain. Your body gets a light white glow, objects around begin to float.

Morgana had given you the book to practice, as she herself was busy. Magic was forbidden in the kingdom. Morgana's use of it was only allowed, because she was the sister of king Arthur.

You slightly open one your eyes, peeking from behind your eyelid. Before you was a blue warpgate, where the spell circle used to be.

"Yes!" You cheer, you had been practicing that spell for a month. But your celebration was cut short by tugging at your dress. You grip the fabrics, trying to hold it back. Thing pulling on it was the warp gate, slowly pulling everything towards it.

In a blink of an eye, you get pulled in and fell through. Your (h/c) hair wave past your face as your body decends through...the sky? You could reach fast enough to land on your arms and legs, your body hits a field of grass.

You push your self up onto your knees, rubbing your sore arms. Your eyes scan the surrounding area, instead of your cozy home, you were met with a town filled with things you didn't regonise.

You stumbles into your feet, brushes the dust off your dress. You wander off the patch of grass and onto a big path of stone, above it was hanging a machine with colored lights. You wondered with green light mean, did it mean you could walk over.

Not even looking both ways, you walk across. You were able to get a glimpse of something heading your way, before it hit you. The next moment your vision went black.

{3rd pov}

The drive instructor's mouth falls open as the car stops, he had watched a teen hit the front of the car and falls onto the road.

"Oh no...Does this mean I failed?" The boy who was taking his exam asks, gripping the wheel tightly.

"Maybe I should fail you for being a worried about failing and not the person you just hit" The instructor scolds the teenage boy. He gets out of the car, checking on the unconscious girl. "She is just knocked out with a bruise, now your exam is to drive to the hospital".

(Your pov)

My eyes flicker open, being met very a very bright room. After I adjust to the brightness, I notice I was laying in a metal bed with white sheets. ‘Where am…’ suddenly the image of that machine entered my mind, reminding me what happened before I blacked out.

The door opens, grabbing my attention. Turn my gaze over to see a kind looking woman enter the room, holding a plank of wood with paper attached. She wrote something down on it, before looking at me. “You’re awake, that’s good. How are you feeling?” She asks.

I read the piece of paper on her coat ‘Dr. Lake’. “A bit light headed and sore, but I’m alright. Thank you, doctor Lake” I answer with a small smile.

“We weren’t able to find any ID on you. Can you tell me please your name?” Doctor Lake asks me, gripping the cillinder thing in her hand.

‘What is ID, does she mean idea?’ I think to myself. “(Y/n) (L/n)” I respond to her question.

{3rd pov}

Barbara writes down the girl’s name. Noting in her head that the girl’s attire seemed a bit odd, perhaps she does theatre. The ginger haired woman leaves the room and enters her office. She writes (L/n) in the hospital search form, surprised to see no results. Then she looked the girl’s name on a regular search engine, blank aswell. It made her question what was going on, so she returned to the hospital room.

She was met with (Y/n) sitting patiently in the bed, her left hand on the other. She was staring out the window, seeming to be looking at the sky. Barbara clears her throat, making (Y/n) turn to her. “I wasn’t able to find any files about you. Do you have your parents’ number?"

(Y/n) pauses, things rolling around in her mind. She didn't believe she was in a different country, or atleast a country that was close to England. The doctor spoke the same language as her, just with a different accent. She must've been brought to the future because of the time warp gate, most likely atleast a hundred years.

"I... don't remember, I only remember my name" She lied, it was beter than trying to explains that came through a portal.

'Did the blow of the car give her Amnesia?' Barbara theorizes, writing it down on her clipboard. "I'm going to organize something, I'll be back" She walks out of the door once again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

For the time being, (Y/n) was placed in a program to reside with a family. The hospital hoped that she would recover her memory or that they were able to find anything about her.

{Your pov}

I stand infront of the house I was told to go. Doctor Lake had told me I was going to live with the Nuñez family, Mrs. Nuñez being a council woman of Arcadia. I was just hoping that they were friendly.

Slowly reaching towards the front door, I knock onto the door. I watch as the door opens, revealing a woman with short dark brown hair and brown eyes. She greets me with a smile "You must be (Y/n), come in".

Doing as she requested, I walk in. I hear her close the door behind me, as I turn my gaze around the home. It felt sleek and more one whole than I am used to.

I look over to see a baby jumping up and down in round swing looking thing. Walking over to them, I crouch down to get to their level. I couldn't help but chuckle when I see the baby reaching their chubby hands towards me. I had to stop myself from kissing his cute little face.

"That is my son Enrique, he is only a few months old" Mrs Nuñez introduces the small baby boy, walking to the kitchen. "My daughter and husband are at school and work right now, they should be back soon. You can find your bedroom, it is the white door. You came earlier than I was expecting"

I couldn't help but be curious on how my room would look like. I snuck upstairs, stopping at the white door. It was right to a purple door, which I assume belongs to the daughter.

Opening the door, I was met with an almost empty room. There was a bed with white sheets, an empty closet and a desk. I take a seat, it was quite comfortable. My fingers trace across the wrinkles of the sheets.

I could hear down below the door opening. "Mom, I'm home!" A voice calls out. The person and Mrs. Nuñez talk about something, but I wasn't able to understand clearly what they were saying. Not long after that, someone came walking upstairs. The person gently knocks on my room.

I open it, peeking out of it. Standing there was a teen girl, with dark brown hair with a dark blue streak in it. There were different colored accessories in her hair, reminding me of a rainbow. She was wearing a dark purple jacket, a lighter purple sweater with a skull on it. Under it she wore a skirt, with leggings under it.

"My mom didn't tell me someone was going to stay with us. My name is Claire, by the way. You must be (Y/n)" The girl introduces herself, holding out her hand for me to shake.

"That's me" I push the door further open, grabbing her hand and gently shaking it. "I hope you don't mind me having around. You already have your parents here and your little brother""Not really, I would be nice having another person around my age here" Her eyes lowers, inspecting my outfit. "Is that a twelfth century dress?"

I pause, realising I have to come up with an excuse. "Well...um, I don't remember a lot. But I think I liked theatre, maybe I was in a play" I like through my teeth, fiddling with my loose sleeve.

Claire's face lights up at the mention of it, she leaned in closer to me. "I love theatre! What is your favorite? Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet..." She trails off when she was my confused expression. "Right, you don't remember much. I got a little over-excited"

"It's nothing, I also get pretty overjoyed when hearing one of my interests. If don't mind asking, what time period are we in currently?" I question the girl.

"It's 2016, why do you ask?" Claire's expression becomes worried, her eyebrows furrow. "Are you feeling alright? You look pretty pale"

'Nine-hundred years...I am that far into the the future?' My head begins to feel light as I feel the shock. I feel myself falling back, until my head hit the floor.

BONK

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that embarrassing accident. Me, Clair and Mrs. Nuñez had gone to shopping to get clothes appropriate to this century. It was getting used to wearing softer and lighter fabrics, it felt easier to move.

[Keeping it vague on purpose]

I was inrolled into school, Arcadia Oak High. I stroll over the sidewalk, a bag slung across over my shoulder. Claire walked next to me, talking about a book she had read. From what I've seen, she was pretty responsible, even with all the pressure her mother puts her on.

I noticed two girls standing not that far away from us, seeming to be waiting for us. One had medium black hair, while the other had brown curly hair. "Hey C-bomb" The girl with curly hair's eyes shift to me "Who this? She seems new"

"(Y/n), pleasure" I chime, holding my hands togheter. They seemed a bit confused, was I too formal?"

"She is staying with me for a bit, I hope you don't mind her hanging around us" Claire mentions, breaking the akward tension.

"Not at all, I am Mary by the way" The black haired girl pulls out a 'phone'. Mr Nuñez had given me one not to long ago. I don't fully understand what it does, a feature was it could call upon a person from a far distance.

Mary pushes the phone in my face, on it were images of food and herself. "Can I get your Instagram? So I can add you" She asks.

My eyebrows furrow. "Insta...gram?" I mumble, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Perhaps it was the thing on her phone, it was something that formated images in a certain way.

Noticing that the confused gases has return, I clear my throat. "I just got a phone for the first time, I'm not really familiar with that" I explain myself.

"No way!" Mary slings her arm around my shoulder, pulling me along towards school. "During break, I am going to teach everything you need to know about the internet. You have a lot to catch up on"

"I think she is going fit right in" I hear the other girl say to Claire behind me, I hope she's right.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

While the girls had head to class, I had to go to the 'principle's office'. He was a nice man, he was throwing around slang I don't even think he understands. He gave me directions on where my first class way, along with s sheet with all my classes. Luckily I was in the same class as Claire, Mary and Darci (who's name I learned), first class was history by Mr. Strickler.

I stand before the classroom door, waiting for the right moment. I calm my nerves, knocking on the door. I hear a calm voice respond "Come in", my cue.

Pushing the door open, I was met with an older man and a bunch of teens staring at me. It felt a bit akward, It isn't a usual thing to have that many eyes on me.

"Introduce yourself, they don't bite" Mr. Strickler jokes, snapping me out of my train of thoughts. His remark made me relax more.

I walk over, standing before the class. I noticed Claire sitting near the front, who gives me a small wave. I smile, waving back. I look up, ready to talk. "My name is (Y/n), it's nice to meet you all" I greet, keeping the smile on my face.

"Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Mr. Stricker chimes in. "Since you seem already acquainted with Ms. Nuñez, you can take a seat next to her" He instructs.

I nod, sitting down at the desk next to Claire. It went a lot easier than I was expecting, let's hope the rest of high school will be this easy. My lips purse as I feel a pair of eyes at me, but I ignore the feeling.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Toby and Jim walk out of the classroom as the lesson had wrapped up. Toby was talking Jim's ears off about a game he began playing.

They walk outside, heading towards their lockers. Jim spots the new girl talking to the principal, he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"Can't Ms. Nuñez show you around?" The principal questions the (h/c)nette.

"She is busy with practice, it's really important to her" (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers. She didn't remember exactly what the girl was practicing for, she thought it was a play.

It seemed like Toby was listening aswell. He jabs his best friend in the side, whispering "Dude, I have the greatest idea right now. If you give her a tour, you get good in Claire's book"

Jim scratches the back of his head. "I don't know, Toby. Isn't it a little shallow to just use her to get close to Claire?" He asks the shorter teen.

Toby didn't seem to listen. He grabs Jim by the arm, dragging him along. "We'll do it, principal" He says, raising his hand.

Turning towards the two students, a pleasant expression appears on the principal's face. "Ah, Domzalski, Lake. I'll be leaving her in your hands, don't get her in trouble" The old man laughs, before walking off.

(Y/n) looks at the two students, smiling innocently. She had to make sure to not accidentally reveal something she shouldn't, the fact that she was from a whole 'nother century or her magic.

'This is going to be a piece of cake' Toby thinks confidently, crossing his arms.

'Lord, have mercy on me' Jim tries his best to not palm his own face off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"English, Math, Biology, Spanish, History, P.E and lunch is my favorite" Toby jokes, getting a chuckle out of (Y/n). "Never forget to do your Spanish homework, or you'll be facing the wrath of Mr. Uhl"

(Y/n) looks over to the blue eyes boy, who seemed to be in deep thought. She wondered what could be going through his mind. "Do you anything to tell me about this school?" She spoke, snapping him out of it.

"Um, well...Mr. Strickler is pretty cool, I guess" Jim mutters. He didn't have much time to think of something to say. He was too busy wondering what was so off about the new girl, she seemed pretty normal. He squints his eyes as he notices something, he swore a spark in her in her eye.

"Do I have something on my face?" (Y/n) tilts her head, seeing that he was staring a little too long.

Jim shakes his head. "Nothing, it's nothing" He answers, just pushing away the thought.

The two boys notice (Y/n) looks at something. Follow her gaze, they see Steve doing his usual locker stuffing. They were thinking of walking away, but (Y/n) had other plans. Toby tried to grab by the sleeve, but was too late.

Steve was busy taunting Eli, then he feels someone tapping his shoulder. He turns and looks down, seeing (Y/n) infront of him. "What is it, Newbie? Can't you see I'm busy"

Poking his head out of the locker was Eli, his eyes widening at the sight of her. "I saw you before! You were falling from l-like the sky. Like an alien or a-an angel!" He points at her.

Steve bashes his elbow against the locker, making Eli hold his tongue. "Shut it, Pepperjack" Steve threatens the nerd. Then he leans forward, a smirk on his face "Now that I look at you, you look pretty cu–"

"Hey, Steve. New hair you got there? I gotta borrow her for a second" Toby akwardly smiles, pulling (Y/n) back. "The second most important thing is that you don't mess with Steve"

Letting put an annoyed huff, crossing her arms. "I am sorry, but I just really hate bullies" she chews her bottom lip, it already was a bit damaged.

"(Y/n), if you don't mind me asking. Are you perhaps from England" Jim asks her, seeming to grow suspicious of the girl.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Your accent"

(Y/n) tenses up, realising that she is possibly cornered. She had hoped that they wouldn't notice it. Telling him the lie she told Doctor Lake could be questioned once she accidentally do or say something suspicious. But saying she was, would contradict her lie.

She let out a relieved sigh as the bell rings. When she needed it most, the bell saved her. She gives the two boys a quick wave, before walking off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Her (e/c) eyes stare at the ceiling as she later in her bed, her arms stretched out besides her. She turns her head, looking at the corkboard hanging on the wall. In the middle of it was a sticky note with drawing of a book. Red yarn connected it with other sticky notes, one of it was a sticky note with a drawing of the school. It was crossed out with red marker.

"Where is it..?"

[fanfic-scribbles]

Spooky Scary

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky tries to bond with you over your love of horror. It goes well, just...not how you'd expect.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Reader loves horror but is also scared of it, short and very fluffy

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 1226

A/N: Please enjoy this short piece of Halloween fluff. For regular readers: I am having a bit of A Time right now and I don’t know if I’ll be able to update in November. I’m a little bummed; I’m very proud of having been able to keep my monthly update schedule, but I’ll be traveling for Thanksgiving this year and I recently had a set back that hit pretty hard. So right now I’m thinking I’ll take November off, *maybe* December if I have to, but we’ll see when we see. Nothing is abandoned, I just need a minute, so enjoy what’s here in the meantime, and I will see you later <3

~

You are on a date (not a date) with your crush (best friend) right now (right now!) and you are terrified.

In more ways than just one.

~

“You’re okay with a haunted house?” you ask, looking over the advertising placard. The overall layout is very ‘graphic design is my passion,’ but some of the photos look…unsettlingly good.

“It won’t bother me,” Bucky says with absolute confidence. “Clint says I’ll be fine. Something about the makeup being good but overall it’s pretty cheesy.”

~

You don’t know what you did to Clint, but a few Robin Hood jokes are not enough to warrant this.

A gruesome Jack-in-the-box pops out, telegraphed from a hallway down, and yet you still jump. You’re glad you picked Bucky’s left arm to grab– hopefully it isn’t pressure sensitive.

“You all right?” Bucky chuckles, his breath in your ear. Despite the ‘blood’-stained, grimy hall, you relax a little, and even smile at him.

“Doing great,” you lie.

You have a reputation. A deserved one, admittedly– you love Halloween. Horror movies and the macabre are for year-round, in your opinion, but there’s something about the energy in October that just makes it even better. Your friends know this.

They don’t know that you’re actually kind of a scaredy-cat.

So, yeah, horror movies are great– on a screen, when you’re alone at home and no one can see you flinch, jump, or peek out between your fingers.

Or gasp and jump out of your skin when a shadow runs past your open side. You’re gripping Bucky’s arm hard enough your hands hurt, but it’s also kind of…thrilling, being able to be so close to him. Or rather, being forced to, even if only by your own nerves. You might need some help unlatching your fingers by the end of the night.

But Clint, via Bucky, was right– the scene work could be better, you think, but maybe that’s a good thing, because the actors are great, in costume and performance, with one of the most terrifying being a woman following alongside you, unnoticed until the perfect moment. But no one comes close to touching you, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re in the company of someone who could stare down Jason and punch out a Xenomorph, so you actually start enjoying yourself.

You’re so distracted by everything that you completely miss what’s going on with Bucky– until he gently bumps your side and you jump almost clear off the floor. He lets out a heavy sigh and jerks his head up at a sign. You have to squint a bit, but you make out one of the exits, and after a few seconds, it clicks. Bucky needs to leave.

Just like that, you snap into crisis management mode, like any time you’re out and Bucky has a bad moment. It doesn’t happen too often, but you know how to handle it: get to a safer spot, wait a minute for him to calm, and if he can’t, walk him home.

Easy peasy, but when you get out and to the side of the building, Bucky turns and looks…fine. Composed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. He looks surprised by the question, and he looks you over. And then he goes quiet– thinking, you assume. It takes him a little longer, sometimes, to figure out how to speak his thoughts. Right now, he’s looking a little frustrated, and nothing’s coming out.

“It’s okay,” you say and squeeze his hand. Thankfully, he squeezes back. “Take your time. You wanna get dinner?”

He hesitates, nods, and leads the way– still firmly holding your hand.

~

“I’m sorry.”

You’re halfway through a bite of pizza when he speaks again. And maybe it’s a good thing your mouth is full, because it gives you time to think about what he might mean. Then you realize– he must be talking about the haunted house. In your rush to swallow and reassure him, you almost choke. He immediately leans over to hit your back, but you manage to get it all down, and you take a quick sip of your drink before you say, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I told you– if you ever need to leave a place, then we leave. Simple as that.”

He squints like he doesn’t understand. “You needed to leave,” he says, like he’s explaining to you. “You were scared.”

You duck your head. “It was a haunted house,” you say. Mumble. “The makeup was really good, and so were the actors.” You can feel him staring at you still, so you admit, “I’ve never been to a haunted house before.”

Bucky blinks. “But you love Halloween,” he says, almost accusingly.

“I do!” you say. “I love Halloween, and scary movies, and scary things…because they’re scary.”

It’s your first time admitting that out loud. You’re not ashamed, necessarily, but the way Bucky looks at you makes you wonder if you should be. “You like being scared?” he says.

“Sort of.” You push at your crust. “I know it’s not dignified, and you guys are really brave, and maybe you’ll think less of me, but–”

“It’s not that, and no I won’t, it’s just…” He rests his head in his hand and watches you. “I never knew that. That the stuff you like actually scares you.”

“It’s a safe kind of scared. Like roller coasters– scary, but I know I’ll be okay in the end.” You match his gaze. “But yeah, not exactly something to brag about, and I know you don’t like horror movies.”

“Yeah.” He ducks his head. “But I wanted to spend some time with you, and when I was asking for things you might like, it made sense that–” His head snaps up. “Wait, so you didn’t want to–”

“Stop.” You gently rap your knuckles on his forehead. He cracks a smile, ridiculous as the motion is to him, and you smile too. “I don’t really like people seeing me scared, so I don’t do anything that might make me jumpy in public,” you say. “I’m glad I got to try it though. It was kind of fun.”

“And I made you leave,” he huffs, the smile fading.

“I think it was sweet, that you were keeping an eye on me,” you say. “Though I was probably denting your arm by how hard I was squeezing.”

“I didn’t mind,” he mutters.

It’s your turn to blink. “…Really?” you ask. You like to think that maybe things have been a little flirty from time to time. Natasha certainly thinks so, and acts long-suffering about it, but you’ve never had anything concrete. Now, though, Bucky looks a little shy, and then he…nods.

“Well…” You creep your hand forward on the table, and when he takes it, you dare to hope this is different. “I have plenty of Halloween movies that aren’t horror. Ones that are just fun.”

“Yeah?” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Can I have you on my other arm?”

Your mouth curls into a smile. “You sure you want me clinging?”

He stands, and crooks his arm in your direction. “I can take it,” he says.

You stand, and slip your arm into his. You won’t pick anything that would upset Bucky, but it wouldn’t hurt to find something with at least one good jumpscare. Just for fun.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

05/02/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; Taika Waititi; Claudia O'Doherty; Dominic Burgess; Eliza Cossio; Erroll Shand; Watch Party Reminders; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; OFMD Colouring Pages; Stede & Ed (Calvin & Hobbes); MerMay Prompts/submissions; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika;

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

= Taika Waititi =

Taika is in NYC with Rita for more TypeBea launches! Additionally, the Met Gala happens to be on May 6th, will they be showing up again this year?

Img Src: Rita Ora's IG Storys

Img Srcs: DailyMail

= Claudia O'Doherty =

Our dear Mary, Claudia O'Doherty has peeked her head out again! This time with cooking suggestions and a podcast! Check her out on the latest episode of @douboyspodcast. Listen here

= Erroll Shand =

Just Erroll in a priests outfit with the song "Reflections" by Diana Ross & The Supremes.

Img Src: Erroll's IG Story

= Dominic Burgess =

Dominic got to slay on Palm Royale this week! Check out that suit! Bonus --Once again, I am a sucker for cat content, any cast member that shows their pets I'm posting it. Check out these adorable babies of our dear Jeffrey Fetterling.

Img Src: Dominic Burgess' Twitter

== Eliza Cossio ==

One of our dear writers, Eliza Cossio just so happens to have co-written a spin off of Felicity called "Felicity In Space". It's available on her Instagram here: tinyurl.com/FELICITYINSPACE

Img Src: Eliza's IG

== Watch Party Reminders ==

Palm Royale picks back up May 9 via @LCWebsXOXO with the lovely @/dominicburgess approx. 4pm EDT/9pm BST/1pm PST!

= Wrecked =

Last 2 episodes of Season 1 is on the docket for tomorrow! Don't have access? Reach out to me on @gentlebeardsbarngrill on tumblr, or @aspirantabby42 on twitter.

Days: Apr 29 - May 3

Times: 3:30 pm PT / 6:30 pm ET / 11:30 pm BST

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight is non other than Josie Whittlesey, aka Hellkat Maggie, and the reason we have OFMD in the first place! Thank you so much @melvisik for spotlighting her!

Img Src: @melvisik's Twitter

= OFMD Colouring Pages =

More colouring pages by @patchworkpiratebear! And it fits with the MerMay Theme! I would love to print out a whole books worth of these once they're done!

Img Src: @patchworkpiratebear's Tumblr

= Stede & Ed (Calvin & Hobbes) =

A new fan spotlight tonight features our very own darling @blakbonnet! She's been making these awesome Calvin/Hobbes redraws with Stede and Ed for a while now, and she was kind enough to let me share them with you in the recaps! If you haven't seen them already, please check them out on her blog! Theres's so many to catch up on so we'll be seeing more each day for a bit!

Src: @blakbonnet's Tumblr

== Mer May Prompts ==

There's prompts going on every day from the @saveofmdcrewmates and @bizarrelittlemew's MerMay Bingo and it's taking me a bit to get permission to share, but I'll share when if/when I can! A few of our crewmates are going strong with the themes!

= Spanish Jackiez =

Our talented @erostheartist had this submission for Mermay Day 1. I love the idea of The Swede as a merman <3 Visit them on their blog for more artwork!

= Plunder =

Today's SaveOFMD MerMay Day 2 prompt was "Plunder" -- and as always, @blueberreads never ceases to amaze with the awesome pixel art they make! The very important plant booty even makes an appearance-- and that tailcoat swoosh! I love it! For more pixel art awesomeness, please follow them on their blog!

In addition, @erostheartist had some gorgeous ideas on Plunder with Izzy Hands and jewelry, check out their post here to learn more about this piece.

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! It's finally Friday tomorrow! I hope you all are finally going to get some rest and relaxation this weekend. We could all use some! I'm gonna go into a bit of a heavier topic tonight, so if you don't have the spoons please don't worry about reading it right now (or ever). I've noticed a big rift going on in the fandom. Whether its on twitter, or tumblr, there's definitely a lot of contention between various groups of fans. I'm sorry if that's stressing you out-- I know it can be really hard to see that kind of thing, especially when we put the time and effort into putting ourselves out there and trying to find a safe space ship we can belong to. Obviously I can't speak to the entire fandom, but the way I've been trying to process what's going on is I think we're running into some Post Cancellation-Fatigue/Aggression. When we were getting regular content from the show, or we were fighting to get the show back more, even if there were some differences between parts of the fandom, it still felt at least somewhat cohesive with some random outliers. That mutual fight for the show isn't as strong now, and the only content we get is BTS from Samba or some of the other lovely crewmembers, and I think it's starting to weigh pretty heavily on people. Sure, there's always been some contention, but a lot of folks have expressed that it's felt a lot stronger the last few days and I have to agree. Have you ever seen those cat videos where there are three cats -- two are focused on one another, and then another cat sneaks up from behind and scares one of them, and then the startled cat starts fighting the other one that wasn't involved? That's what your behavioural specialists would call "misplaced aggression". Same with if your two cats are fighting, and then you try to interrupt, and they scratch you--it's not caused by you but that aggression gets directed at you. That's kinda how it's feeling right now. There's something bugging all of us on some level (and its not all the same thing) and that's translating into frustration, and being modern times we can express those frustrations online-- and maybe not worded in the best way, and suddenly we've got this huge blow up of contention between groups. Now, I may be misreading it, but I've seen this happen in a few other fandoms post cancellations, and it feels similar.

How do we navigate that kind of change? Well, it's not easy. Fandoms are supposed to be fun. They're supposed to be a relief from stress and help us escape the crazy shit going on in this world.

You're allowed to want to just relax and have fun. You're allowed to love your blorbos, and your pairings, whether they follow canon or not ( just like anything in life, don't force them on others if they don't want them). You're allowed to have fun and learn new things and enjoy all of the wonderful things that happen in the show, as well as how many positive things have happened from it's existence.

That being said, you don't owe anyone your energy and mental health-- so if you're not feeling great about a particular group, or chat, or server, or whatever you're in, remember to be kind to yourself and prioritise your happiness. There's a reason there are block buttons on most social media-- not everyone gets along, and you shouldn't have to sacrifice your peace for the sake of other people's frustrations.

There are going to be groups that feel extremely strong one way or the other, and they're going to want you to pick a side. If you find that you identify more with one side, and you feel comfortable and accepted with them, then by all means, find your new safe space ship! If you don't want to pick a side, if you just want to love your blorbos and listen to all the different fun meta going on-- that's okay too! Look for people who share that same ideal-- and aren't as worried about one way or the other.

Hell, if you're enjoying the hell out of all the crazyness going on-- then that's fine too you bringer of chaos, you do you <3. I will repeat this lovelies-- this is supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be an escape, not an added stressor.

Do you need a few days away from the internet? Go nuts! Go outside, lay in the grass, drink your favorite drink and eat your favorite snack. The internet will be here when you get back. This show that brought us all together is about love, kindness, acceptance, learning, growing, making mistakes, forgiveness, support from our friends and family, redemption, and breaking the paradigms that society wants so badly to hold us down with. Those are the things we need to remember and cherish. This show taught us that there are very few situations that are irredeemable with effort, if people are willing to try. It taught us that where we are now doesn't have to be where are in a day, or a month, or a year, or 10 years and nothing is set in stone. We can change our own circumstances if we need to. It's perfectly reasonable to be upset that our safe space ship is having some troubles right now, and I feel it just like everyone else, so I get it. But-- just like the show tells us, nothing stays the same forever, and things can get better. Things can mend. Fandoms can mend, friendships can mend, relationships can mend. Or they can be severed and allow for those involved to move on. Whatever YOU need to do for your peace is okay and valid (we just ask that its not purposefully causing harm to others). You're allowed to prioritise yourself and your happiness.

If you need to talk, or vent, reach out to like-minded crewmates (you're welcome to message me but I may be slow due to work stuff, but I'm happy to listen and talk when I can!)

No matter where you are, no matter how you're feeling, you are loved.

You are doing your best, and you will get through these harder times. Remember to be kind if you can, and give yourself grace too.

Sleep well lovelies, I hope tomorrow is easier for you <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is "silly", because we all need a little sillyness in our lives.

Gifs courtesy of the stupendous @ofmd-ann and marvelous @darkinerry <3

[klutzyroses]

Like Strawberries

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Yves x Fem!Reader(Not MC)

Word Count: 3068

Summary: After a fun, sensual night, Yves seems to want a repeat, but is too...Yves to ask. So of course, Y/N, more than happy to indulge him, just needs to give him a little nudge.

Tags: Female reader, NSFW, nipple play, Yves being horny, reader is a tease

Minors DNI

"...He's doing it again..."

Y/N thought to herself as she wondered when the Fifth Prince became so...besotted.

Ever since she became his lover, or rather, ever since she met him, she knew that Yves Kloss was what everyone called "a mercurial cat" and he displayed that in almost everything he did. She knew that and loved that about him. It’s what made him so endearing after all. He was a little unpredictable, he was moody, he was somewhat fussy at times but oh so loving. Though recently, the feline prince seemed to have garnered a new…fascination.

It would rarely happen at first. She would feel burning eyes on her and then she would look towards the source, only to find Yves quickly looking away and pretending to do something else. Or would be a bit more touchy and affectionate with her, especially generous with hugs and kisses. It happened more than once, and while she was far from irritated, she had to wonder what had him so fixated on her as of late? Did he want something? Attention perhaps? Y/N had a feeling that even if she asked him directly, the easy-to-fluster Yves would not give her a straight answer. While she had no clue what exactly brought this behavior on, it wasn’t as though she could ask anyone else for an opinion, likely because she was the only one who really noticed the surreptitious gazes her prince threw her way whenever they were more or less alone.

…Yes, just like the one he was giving her at the moment. Those deep blue eyes were locked on her, much like a fascinated cat on a piece of string. If she turned to meet that gaze, he would immediately look away, so this time, she knew to feign ignorance. But maybe this was her chance to investigate a little, to see what had peeked his interests so. Ever so carefully, ever so discreetly, she glanced out of the corner of her eye towards her beloved, trying to follow his line of vision. The prince in question, while baking alongside her, had his head tilted ever so slightly to the side, his eyes trailing up her body in an almost appreciative way before seeming to pause around her chest area. He lingered there for a moment longer before those luminous eyes moved back to the task in front of him. His cheeks flamed up a little as he seemed to mutter to himself inaudibly. Y/N found herself blinking. Was he looking at her chest? Why? She wasn’t wearing anything too out of the ordinary. A moderately modest dress that was open on the collarbone, but that was it. Her perfume was the same as always. She racked her brain for anything that could indicate a reason for his sudden interest in her bust. Then she remembered, a few nights ago, under the covers of his bed, he had been very…very enamored with her breasts then. To a point she could bear no more as he continually teased, pulled and played with her sensitive nipples until she was nearly in tears from the intense pleasure. He really had put her through it that night, but in all honesty…the lady found nothing within herself to genuinely complain about it. There was no point denying she had enjoyed every second of it and had been thinking about it every now and again. Is that what had his rapt attention lately?

‘And I thought Jin was the boob man…my goodness, Yves…’ She couldn’t help but think, suppressing a giggle. Though it seemed like a new fascination the prince himself was discovering, which she thought was cute in a…lewd kind of way.

Sudden as it may be, she hardly minded her lover admiring her body. In fact, she enjoyed the attention, and could very much indulge him if he asked. She would not be averse to having him do to her what he did that night again, though…given how skittish the Fifth prince could be, she couldn’t help but worry that asking him upfront will result in him pulling away out of embarrassment. Or reluctance. But given his now apparent interest, she guessed that he may be as eager to repeat that evening as well. But how to bring it up? She glanced at the mercurial prince as he worked. Asking him directly may be the quickest option…but she could at least try and have some fun with it, no?

~🍓

Y/N fluffed her hair as she watched her reflection in the mirror that early morning. Was this going a little overboard? Yes. Was she doing it anyway? Yes. This was not quite like her, but she couldn’t help the excited giggle that fought its way past her glossy, peony tinted lips. She had woken and taken a bath in sweet scented water and had done her hair into a lovely updo. She was a woman on a mission today and her secret weapon hung tight to her body. The lady didn’t usually dress so…boldly but she couldn’t deny that she looked and felt amazing. Desirable. Irresistible. The dress she had picked for this endeavor was certainly a daring one. A mostly simple pink dress that flowed down to the floor, just barely grazing it because of the heeled shoes she wore to appear just a little more statuesque. The dress was long sleeved, a semblance of modesty to ‘compensate’ for the lack thereof in the area that was most obvious. The dress had a visible plunging neckline reaching down to tease the defined line of her sternum, offering a generous view of her inner side breasts. The corseted bodice pressed down on her chest, perking up and giving a tempting swell to her breasts. Not overly revealing to the point of discomfort or indecency, but just enough to be aware of it. She twirled in the mirror. The fact the dress was in Yves’ color was a nice touch in her opinion. She didn’t really dress up often, especially not like this, but doing it now, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself a little. This would be a very interesting day indeed.

~🍓

Ah, part of her had begun to second guess herself from the moment she saw Rio’s reaction when he came into her room a little later. Though she talked herself into leaving her room, encouraged by her stunned attendant’s ensuing praises-who needed a hype man when she had a Rio?- after he had picked up his jaw from the floor. She received similar reactions from others as she went about the palace. A raised eyebrow from Sariel, a smirk from Nokto, a playful whistle from Jin and many, many compliments from those who laid eyes on her. Now for Yves…

When she got to the office of the domestic faction, she hesitated at the door. This was Yves after all, his reactions to things could be a bit…unpredictable. This could backfire quite badly, spooking him so bad that he avoids her like the plague, worst case scenario. But then again, because this was Yves, he would just critique her appearance, whether it be because of her use of makeup or how her hair was styled and not even really take notice of her all that much. It could happen. But then again, given how everyone else seemed to have very much appreciated her thus far, she at least knew she looked good. She just hoped Yves thought so as well, as this was all for him.

“Come on, Y/N, show time.” She muttered to herself, fixing the collar of the dress, pushing her breasts a little higher, picking up the tea tray she brought with her as an excuse to be there, before knocking on the door and opening it with a pleasant greeting.

“Good morning! Pardon the interruption!” A bright, polite greeting to the room as she stepped in, her heels clicking against the floor lightly.

Silence. Absolute silence. All faction members' eyes were on her, Leon blinking repeatedly, his lips parted in awe, Licht faring no better, his head tilted in confusion. Jin, who had already seen her earlier, had his hand over his mouth to stifle down a laugh at the reaction of the others. And Yves…well…his reaction could be most easily summarized as: 

“???”

Then…

 “!!!”

Followed by…

 “…”

“D…Did I break him?” She wondered if she had ever seen Yves look so flabbergasted. She pushed aside her concern when she felt just a prickle of pride at having rendered 3 of Rhodolite’s princes speechless. It was a boost to the ego, that much was certain. People typically associated femininity with weakness and fragility, but how could that be, when this was the effect one woman could have on multiple men?

“I should do this more often, this is fun! But I shouldn’t let the power go to my head, hihi…” She couldn’t help but think as she simply simpered, delicately walking further into the office.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might enjoy some tea this morning.” She turned to face them, smiling blithely as she pretended to be oblivious to the shocked atmosphere. 

“My, what’s the matter? You all look like you’ve gotten a shock.” Leon was the first to recover.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. I think you’ve given us all a bit of a shock.” The fourth prince chuckled good naturedly as she smiled in return, placing a hand on her heart delicately.

“So sweet, thank you, Leon.” Her eyes moved to Yves who, for all intents and purposes, was now a statue and had been since she walked in.

“I think…I broke him. Oopsie…” She walked closer to him, touching his arm, causing him to jolt out of his stupor.

“Waaah!? Y..Y/N, I…” The blonde prince cleared his throat before composing himself.

“Sorry. You just look so…breathtaking, I didn’t know what to do with myself.” Her heart fluttered at his words. Being told she was beautiful was always a great feeling, but there was something about hearing it from the man she loved that put her on a different level of happy. If Yves said she was beautiful, it meant that it was the truth and nothing but. This is what spurred her on her quest still as she flushed slightly, as she peered up at him.

“Maybe a hot cup of tea would help clear your head?” Yves looked back at her, his eyes adamantly fixed on her face and not on the cleavage she was practically pressing against him.

“Mm. Sure, I’d like that.” He answered cooly and frankly not he, Licht, Leon, Jin, or even Y/N herself expected her following question. She leaned a little closer to him, a sultry smile crossing her pink lips as she subtly gave him a better glimpse of her cleavage as it pressed against the inside of her dress. She had foregone any jewelry apart from earrings because she wanted nothing to distract from her smooth skin, which proved to be the right choice now, given the effect it had on her beloved. Her beautiful eyes watched him from under her lashes as she posed a seemingly innocent, yet shamelessly suggestive question.

“Would you like some milk with that?” 

Licht had to pick up Yves’ jaw for him.

~🍓

It wasn’t until the evening that while she was on her way to her room, she was whisked away to Yves’ room instead.

“Come with me.” Was all he had said as he pulled her hand. Her heart danced. Was this it? Was she getting what she wanted? She had not left his side that day, because he insisted on her being within sight. To keep her company he said, but she knew it was also to fend off any other who saw her in her seductive, dolled up glory. She had also been ‘unintentionally’ working his nerves the whole day, just waiting for the moment that he would crack. It seemed now that he had indeed cracked. Once in his room, he closed the door and immediately the kissing started. She reciprocated instantly, winding her arms around his neck as she pressed against him, sighing ever so softly in his mouth. They parted for just a moment before meeting in another kiss. And another. And another. When they separated for air, both were panting, their cheeks flushed a lustful, flustered red as they locked eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” She giggled at his honest statement.

“Oh? Is that all you’ve been wanting to do?” His lower lip seemed to stick out a bit as he pouted slightly, averting his eyes.

“No. There’s something else I’ve been wanting to do to you lately.” He gently caresses her sides as her heartbeat quickened in anticipation.

“Yes…?” She encouraged, trying not to seem overly excited. He looked towards her bare skin and then to her eyes.

“Is it alright if I play with you here again? I enjoyed it last time…” He trailed a finger down the line of her sternum, his eyes a little misty with desire, a red hue making its way across his face. Y/N didn't think it would be very mood appropriate if she were to pull away and break into a happy dance right then and there. Instead, she moved to his ear, her lips brushing his ear.

“Do what you want with me.”

~🍓

Yves’s lips trailed down from her lips to her neck, pausing to suckle her skin. She kept her eyes closed, wanting only to savor the sensation as she lay on her back while Yves lavished her with attention. His hands trailed her body, her provocative dress discarded on the floor somewhere, she couldn’t quite remember, nor did she particularly care at that moment. All she cared about was Yves and his dexterous hands on her skin. She mewled when she felt his hand cup her breast, running a thumb across her areola until the bud hardened. Once it was fully hard, he pinched it.

“Oh!” A shiver racks down her spine at the sudden pleasure. She felt his lips curve against her neck as he repeated the action, gently tugging on the bud and rolling it between his fingers. She mewled as he teased the other with the same kind of attention, wanting even more of it. The quick stabs of pleasure going through her body began to quicken with every tug those long fingers give her hardened nipples, right after a pinch would immediately come a pull, then a twist until it felt as though he were playing her like an instrument. She felt like the violin that he excelled at so much as he plucked and flicked her ‘strings’.

“Ahhh, nn! M..more…” She whimpered softly as her hands went up his arms and gripped his shoulders. The response she got in return was a quick and simultaneous pinch of both nipples before the prince in question raised himself slightly to look at her. Those deep blue eyes were slightly darkened from desire as he looked her over before settling on her perky nipples. A slight smirk crossed his lips at the sight of them. They looked like strawberries, red and sweet, ready for eating.

“You’re so beautiful.” She felt that same warmth in her heart as she smiled sweetly at him past her pleasure.

“Oh Yves…” Her soft, love filled sigh soon gave way to a sharp cry as he suddenly twisted a nipple harshly, almost painfully. Though, the stinging sensation is quickly soothed by his wet tongue sliding over the abused bud, giving long, slow licks to ease the ache he just caused. The switch from pain to pleasure made the woman squirm as she rested her head against the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Yves…ahh..” She sighed as his lips closed around the mound and startled suckling on it. She leaned her head back as the pressure increased steadily, the bud being pulled by his lips and occasionally flicked by his tongue. That same muscle swirled around her areola, taut with stimulation and only getting tighter as Yves continued to tease her flesh, his fingers skimming her hips and her thighs/ Her thighs squeezed together as the damp heat increased. She bit her lip, her skin heating everywhere he touched her, her own hand slipping into silken blond hair, the soft strands falling between her fingers. Those fingers tightened their grip when Yves found her neglected breast and gave it a firm squeeze. Yves pulled away from her breast, making her pout slightly, only for him to suddenly take the other nipple into his mouth, sucking furiously at it as his hand fondled and massaged the opposite breast.

“Ohhh…” She moaned long and sweet, her back arching towards her lover as his tongue played with the hardened peak. Her eyes met his for a moment, both misty and unfocused from desire and adoration for the other. He removed his mouth slowly, giving one long brush of his tongue and his blue eyes narrowed slightly as his knee slipped between her legs, her thighs clamping down in it for much needed friction. His elegant fingers brushed her cheek.

“I can’t get enough of you…you drive me wild, Y/N…” His adoring whisper was punctuated by the tender caress of his fingers against her skin. He lowered himself and nuzzled her collarbone like the affectionate cat he really was, her hands coming up to pet his hair lovingly, despite being clouded by passion.

“Goodness, you really are such a greedy sweetheart…My sweet hungry kitty.” She cooed softly, teasingly, before she gasped when Yves glared at her and shifted enough to take a vulnerable nipple, the nearest one to him, and gently bit down on it, his tongue then flicked it before removing his mouth for a moment to whisper in her ear, the warmth of his bare skin spreading on hers.

“Well it’s you who did this to me. I, Yves Kloss, demand you take responsibility for being the best thing that ever happened to me.” He purred as he nudged her legs apart. Y/N’s bit her lip as it curled into a seductive smile, formed equally of love, excitement and need as she allowed herself to be engulfed into the bliss of the mercurial cat.

🌸

[illusioninfnty]

wake up call ↠ day 29 ; somnophilia

↠ roronoa zoro x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 825 warnings: nsfw 18+, implied consent, blowjob, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“Zoro?” You peek your head into the men’s cabin looking for your crewmate. He, of course, is napping, laying on his back with his hands behind his head, his swords propped up onto the wall near him.

He looked good even when he slept. His shirt had been hitched up, exposing his chiseled abs. The arms of the shirt were tight against his bulging muscles, even more prominent with the way his arms were pulled back.

You weren’t really sure what to call your relationship with Zoro. You two certainly weren’t exclusive, not with the way you sometimes take up the company of strangers whenever the crew goes out to bars, feeling Zoro’s stare on you the entire time you whisk away with a new person.

Yet in the end, you also go back to him, back into his bed, and back under his body and touch.

As you enter, you slowly close the door behind you so as to not awaken Zoro just yet. You make your way over to where he sleeps on the bed and start undoing his pants. His cock is soft, and you need to give it only a couple of kitten licks before it begins to harden and come to life.

You place the head of it in your mouth, sucking on it as it throbs. You lower your head, taking him up to the base. You can barely breathe as his cock takes over every crevice of your mouth.

He feels heavy on your tongue, and you relish in the sensation. Zoro rarely lets you suck him off, instead opting to give you oral instead. You weren’t necessarily opposed to it, but sometimes you just wanted to worship his long, thick cock.

You bob your head up and down his length for a good while, slobbering all of it. Spit dribbles out the sides of your mouth. You keep an eye on Zoro, as he remains sleeping the whole time you blow him.

After a couple of minutes you release his cock with a soft pop, and you take his now wet length in your hands, stroking it in its entirety. You shimmy out of your bottoms, your bottom half now fully nude. Your juices stick to your panties as you pull them off, kicking them to the side.

Your slit is wet, aching with need to have Zoro stuffed full inside you. You swipe your fingers around your entrance, gathering globs of what is proof of your horniness. Stroking Zoro, you mix your juices with the precum that beads the tip of his cock.

Climbing over him, exposing his abs more as you cautiously open up his top, you align yourself with the head of his cock.

You sink down slowly, knowing well the pain of having his large cock stuffed inside you too quickly. Despite the numerous times you’ve slept with Zoro, there’s still a subtle stinging pain as you lower yourself past his cock head and take him all the way to the base.

Whimpers escape your lips uncontrollable, and you don’t pay attention to if you’re waking Zoro up with your sounds or not. You begin to bounce on top of him, the sounds of skin slapping becoming the loudest in the room.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock fills you completely, you love the stinging pain that fills you up whenever you fuck him. Your back arches, chasing the pleasure that takes over your body as you ride him with all the vigor you can muster.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to approach. Zoro’s still body lays below you, and you take all the pleasure you can from him. Your hips move faster and faster on him, his cock throbbing harshly inside of you.

Your walls clench down on Zoro tightly, like a vice. You can’t help the short gasps and low moans that escape your lips as your hands travel across his chest, gripping him for some sort of stability as your orgasm washes over you, your juices squirting all over his cock that stays nestled deep inside you.

As you ride out your orgasm, clenching down furiously onto Zoro’s aching cock, you feel him shift beneath you. He peeks through one of his eyes, and suddenly his cock bucks into you, hitting spots you couldn’t on your own. You gasp, falling into his chest as he fucks up into you.

“Did I say to stop?” His voice is rough and gravelly as he awakens, and you can’t help the way your walls flutter around his cock hearing how sexy he sounds. 

One of his thick hands comes to grip your waist, grounding himself as his hips slap into you, the overstimulation making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He gives you his trademark smirk that never fails to make your heart flutter in your chest. “You still didn’t make me cum yet.”

[cowboydisaster]

Aesthete

Aesthete (adj.) someone with deep sensitivity to the beauty of art or nature

repost, originally posted on 12 march 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k

summary: when Arthur finds himself with a lack of inspiration, you offer yourself as a blank canvas

a/n: this was inspired by a post I saw about canon Arthur v fandom Arthur. Essentially that he isn't just some dumb himbo, he's intelligent and creative/artistic and has a clearer world view than most. I cant find the original post/er, but if you know it please drop me a message!

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @luvliewriting @tillith @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

warning: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (teeth rottingly fluffy, emotional smut)

"a work of art that did not begin in emotion is not art"- paul cèzanne

The rain is a steady, soothing thud on the roof, as you rest, sitting on Arthur’s bed at Shady Belle. It's a stormy day, with rain and lightning falling from the sky, painting everything in a gloomy gray hue. There are a few little puddles on the creaky, wooden floor from the broken window and the old roof, where water has leaked inside. You cherish days like this, days where you can huddle inside, wrapped in a thin blanket while reading a book. Now you are reading a relatively newer piece, Huckleberry Finn, while cozied up in Arthur’s bed. He sits opposite of you, against the footboard, while you are against the headboard. It’s a very comfortable silence, with only the rain and the thunder to break up the quiet afternoon. 

Arthur is very focused in his journal, sketching and scribbling away at something on the ivory pages. His eyebrows are drawn together, and every few minutes he holds the journal at an arm’s length away, ensuring he has the correct perspective. The more he draws, the less interested you find yourself in your novel. Your eyes flicker from him, to your page, and you find that you’ve been so interested in what Arthur is doing that you’ve been stuck re-reading the same paragraph for nearly five minutes. 

But can you blame yourself for being so easily distracted? Arthur is so detail oriented, so intelligent and creative. Very rarely does he allow people to see this vulnerable side of him, and you’ve been lucky enough to peek through the curtains into Arthur Morgan’s fragile, beautiful heart. He has a reputation among the gang of being thick headed and more of a brute than a thinker, and you chuckle at just how ignorant those opinions are. Arthur is one of the smartest men you know. He is an enjoyer of literature, although he prefers writing a novel rather than reading one, he is well versed in history and enjoys mythology. Arthur may not have gone to a school, or have fancy degrees on his wall, but he is a reteller of stories. Arthur soaks in the information he hears, and thinks over it heavily, oftentimes writing about it in his journal, like he is now.

His big hands have an expert grip on the charcoal as he sketches something, his face is contorted into a beautiful little confused pout as he tries to ascertain whether or not the perspective on this particular sketch is perfect. Your eyes trail from his hands up to his lips, the forbidden, soft lips that you dream about kissing at night. Oh, how you wish he was yours. You sigh, refocusing yourself and watching his hands. The curiosity becomes too great, and needing a distraction, you finally speak up.

“What are you drawin’?” You ask, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse. He perks up at your voice, startled out of his deep focus. Before he responds, he runs his hand through his stubble in thought. 

“Finishin’ up a sketch from a few days ago. Just this old church I found, ain’t nothin special.” Arthur responds, flipping the little book around to show you. 

You recognize the church, he’s drawn a very good likeness. It’s the old, crumbling church just off the road from Shady Belle. The Lemoyne Raiders have been camping out there, and you recall Arthur stopping to inspect it when you’d rode past earlier. He’s perfectly captured the broken walls, and the way vines squeeze the old building like a cobra. You could step into the drawing, and never realize it wasn’t reality. 

“Oh, Arthur, it's beautiful.” You whisper, noticing the attention to detail. Arthur has managed to capture the swaying of the grass, alongside birds taking flight off the roof of the building. 

After some more inspecting of the intricate piece, you hand it back to him, smiling at the blush that colors his cheeks. He never was good at taking compliments. He continues the sketch, and you realize it's the first time you've seen him drawing in a while. Your eyebrows pull together as you try to think back to the last time you'd seen the outlaw with the book in his hands. 

"I noticed you haven't been drawin' as much…?" You inquire, picking Huckleberry back up and glancing over the printed words before looking back up to him.

"Ain't easy findin' pretty things' in the swamp. Back when we was in Valentine, there was so much to draw, so many things caught my eye." Arthur whispers, never bringing his eyes away from the paper as he shades the windows with his charcoal. You toy with your lip, feeling that it's your time to finally bite the bullet and be brave. You take a deep breath, setting your book down again. 

"So you draw beautiful things?" You ask, barely over a whisper. Your voice travels across the expanse of the bed like a breath on the wind. 

Arthur finally looks up to you, green eyes locking onto yours as he thinks over the meaning behind your question. He leans back against the footboard, and brings his knee up to lean on. 

"I- well yeah, mostly. I like to draw things how I find em, natural, beautiful and the like." Arthur responds, brushing through his beard with his hand while thinking of sketches of deer, flowers and birds, crumbled buildings and landscapes. 

Arthur's heart stops when you stand up, slowly tip-toeing to the center of the room and turning to him. Your eyes are locked onto each other, nothing can be heard but quiet breaths and the patter of rain on the ceiling. Warm light caresses your face as you bring your hands up to your shirt, heart pounding. 

"And… Do you think I'm beautiful…?" You ask, pulling your shirt out of your jeans so it's no longer tucked.

Arthur is frozen, shocked as his eyes glance between your own, laced with bravery and lust, and your hands which are slowly pulling your shirt out of your jeans. He swallows thickly, at a loss for words. 

"Well a course- I think you're, you're very beautiful…" 

Arthur's eyes are wide, his jaw open with shock, and cheeks pink as you unbutton your shirt. His face lasts only a moment before he schools himself, evening out his features to appear nonchalant.

"What are you uh…" Arthur clears his throat quietly, "What are you doin'?" Arthur asks, slipping his eyes closed and growling as your shirt hits the floor.

"Let me inspire you… in my natural state." You quote Arthur back to himself, unclasping your belt buckle and pulling the leather through the loops until the belt clunks to the floor. Your motions are slow, graceful, in the candlelight as you slowly hook your thumbs under your jeans and undergarments sliding them to the floor. Your jeans hit the floor with a thud, and as you step out of them, Arthur pulls out his journal. 

Your body is beautiful. Perfect in his eyes. Round and curved, full and feminine. Your legs, your hips, your collarbones and breasts, all he can do is sink in this canvas that is your body for a few moments. His lack of inspiration is completely gone, and Arthur thinks that with an infinite amount of blank paper he could reference your body as art forever. He's never seen anything so beautiful, so enchanting. You seem to beam with a golden light, shadowing the v in between your thighs and the valley between your breasts. All he can do is stare, and all he can think about doing is taking the time to study every inch of your beauty.

"I…" Arthur stops, speechless as you pull an old ottoman from the corner of the room.

"How do you want me?" You whisper, glossy lips shining in the candlelight, and all Arthur can think about is kissing the perfect rosy petals. 

"How do I- I want you?" Arthur asks, not understanding your question because he wants you in so many ways right now. You're nothing short of a goddess standing before him, an angel. 

"Yeah," You chuckle, "pose me. However you think, you're the artist after all. Go on, it's okay." You encourage when Arthur is hesitant to touch you. He doesn't want to overstep a boundary, and he's terrified to touch you, to taint you with his hands that have been the cause for so many terrible things. He truly thinks that you deserve so much better than him, but he is a fool for it. Because he is all that you want. 

With a nod, he comes over and helps you position yourself. He’s incredibly polite, of course he is, not wanting to touch you anywhere indecent even though you’ve just stripped in front of him. Your left leg is bent under you, and you sit under it, while your right is propped up at an angle, brought up almost to your chest. He positions your arm over the bottoms of your breasts, and your hand is placed on your shoulder. Once he steps back, checking that the position is to his liking, his fire hot touch leaves your skin. 

“Good?” You ask, stretching your neck back so that your hair falls down your back, exposing your throat. 

“Absolutely perfect…” Arthur whispers, sitting on the edge of the plush bed, just a few feet in front of you. He picks up his leather journal and the charcoal, turning to an empty page in the back of the book. 

The sound of thunder, rain and charcoal against paper fill your head as your eyelids flutter, watching Arthur. Seeing him like this, so focused and in his element, is both heartwarming and incredibly attractive. He bites at his bottom lip, hyper focused, as he follows the slopes and planes of your body, perfectly transferring them onto the paper. He gets to your breasts, watching the goosebumps that trickle down your stomach and arms. His eyes are hot on you, studying you. You blush when he steps forward, gently brushing a stray hair away that had fallen in front of your shoulder, tucking it behind your ear so as to not obstruct the view of his model. 

When he sits back down on the creaking bed, he crosses his ankle over his knee, leaning back to get another perspective before resting his journal on his calf. He resumes his sketching, and his eyes linger on you before every stroke of the charcoal. Arthur watches the charcoal trace the lines of your hips, your thighs and your breasts onto the paper, and more than anything, he wishes that it was his lips tracing your skin, instead of the charcoal. The sound of the rain is soothing, and the thunder is one and the same as the pounding of your heart when Arthur’s eyes linger on your lips, your body. Heat lightning flashes the sky through the broken window with warm tones of orange as a shiver runs down your spine, though you are far from cold. 

Arthur really focuses now, leaning into his journal, glancing up and down frequently to capture the tiny details of you, some of his favorites. Like the little flyaways of hair, slightly frizzy from the heat that falls around your face, the freckles on your skin, the scars and stretch marks, the imperfections that color you. Once he’s finished, he leans back, eyeing both you and the journal before writing your name at the bottom, all capital as if a title. 

“Alright, should be done.” Arthur whispers, leaning forward to hand you off his journal.

You take the heavily used book, and look at the mirror-like reflection on the pages. Arthur has captured you perfectly. You look up to his green eyes, with tears. He’s drawn you in his journal as if you are the most gorgeous of any of the sights his eyes have seen, because you are. Every detail is perfect.

“Arthur, this is incredible.” You praise, completely truthful. He is a wonderful artist, and doesn’t give himself enough credit. You stand up, and fold his journal carefully closed before sitting down on the bed beside him. Your hand meets his knee, and boldly you look up at him just hoping. You’ve been head over heels for the man for some time now, and if there was ever a time to bring it up, it's now.

“Arthur I'm gonna ask you somethin’ and I want you to be honest with me, yeah?” 

Arthur is sincere, maybe worried as his eyebrows draw together and he places his hand overtop of yours. 

“Of course, anythin.” Arthur says, quietly. 

You look down at your bare lap, gathering courage that causes your heart to pound in your ears before glancing back up.

“I… Do you want me?” You ask, words hanging heavy in the air as you wait for a response. But much to your embarrassment, Arthur doesn’t give you one. He looks into your eyes, glancing around with his jaw open slightly. He opens and closes it a few times, as if he can’t find the words he's searching for. After a few moments, you hang your head, blushing and feeling like a goddamn fool, because you’ve overstepped and he doesn’t want you. 

“Oh, I see. I’m so sorry, Arthur, I’ve misstepped terribly.” You mumble, shame and embarrassment starting to drag you down. You can’t bear to look at him as you stand up to grab your clothes and leave.

 As you do, his hand grabs onto your own. 

“Darlin’ wait-” Arthur pleads, and his eyes are overflowing with emotion as he sits back down onto the bed, holding your hands in his. For a moment, you feel hopeful, maybe you were wrong, and your best friend who you are desperately in love with, wants you back. 

“I aint so good with my words sometimes. Always been better at writin’ my feelins rather than sayin’ em out loud.” Arthur says, eyes locked onto your conjoined hands before trailing up your torso to those beautiful eyes. 

“I want you. God- more than anything, I want you, sweetheart,” he pauses, brushing another stray hair behind your ear, “But I want you to understand that this isn’t about just layin’ together.” He continues, and tears well up in your eyes at his words because your feelings are being reciprocated and he's all you’ve ever wanted.

“You see I want what's tucked away in here,” Arthur whispers, pointing to the left side of your chest, right over your heart, “and I love what’s in here.” Arthur smiles, tapping your temple.

“Do I want you? Yeah, I do, sweetheart. But I want all a’ you. Your heart, your mind, your body… God- I've been sweet on you longer than I care to admit.” Arthur squeezes your hand before running his thumb under your jaw, and pulling your chin up so he can look into your teary eyes, “and well, when you asked me to draw you just now, sayin’ yes was easier than breathin’ because darlin’ you are the art. I just had to transfer that beauty onto paper.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his own. His big, warm hand cups your jaw, and you feel as if you could melt into his touch. You want nothing more than to be enveloped by him, to have him in every way possible, because you want him too. His beautiful, creative mind, his soft heart with so many walls around it, and you've crumbled them all to nothing more than shattered ramparts. You’ve broken him, and rebuilt him back into the man he is now, changed him forever with your heart. 

He pulls you closer until your lips meet his own. It's shy at first, two strangers meeting in a coy peck. But the familiarity comes soon, because this is Arthur, and you find yourself clinging to him, like if you let go he may disappear, or bottle back up and you can’t lose him now. You open your mouth for him, letting him in to intertwine his tongue with your own as the kiss grows more passionate. He tastes like whiskey and tobacco and Arthur, and it's too much as tears silently fall down your cheeks. Arthur pulls away for a moment, smiling softly as his thumb brushes away your tears.

“It’s rainin, we have all day…” You smile as his eyes run over your face. 

“That we do,” Arthur whispers, kissing your temple before pulling away again, “Y’know… I've had gold and silver, horses, and books worth more than this estate, but darlin’ I ain’t never had anything in my hands that was as beautiful, or as priceless, as you.” He says before leaning into your neck, kissing your pulsepoint and your collarbone. His hands toy with your breasts, running over the soft skin until your nipples harden and you lean into him. 

“Oh, Arthur,” You whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you further. 

“You’re perfect.” Arthur nibbles at the flesh of your earlobe before whispering against your skin, “My blank canvas.”

Your hands come to either side of his face, pulling his gaze up to your eyes. 

“Then make me art, Arthur… mark me, have me, please I need you.” you whimper, pulling him down to your lips again, and savoring the feeling that you’ve been aching for for so long. As soon as the kiss breaks, he caresses your cheek. Again, the only sound is the rain and the thunder. His lips are swollen from where yours have left kisses, and you decide it's your favorite sight. 

“Sweetheart, I already told you. You are art, but markin’ you? Havin’ you? Now that I can do just fine.” Arthur whispers against your flush skin, illuminated as lightning flashes in the distance.

Everything makes sense, everything falls into place, when his lips crash against yours again. They are no longer shy, but needy and loving, lustful and wanting. Your hands reach to the buttons of his shirt as he lays you down on the bed, making sure the pillow under your head is comfortable before moving his lips to your neck. Once you’ve undone the buttons, he leans away to pull it off of his arms, throwing it to the side. It lands on the bedside table, knocking over a container of ink that spills onto the floor. You gasp, leaning up to inspect the damage, as Arthur anchors you, pushing you back down to the bed with his kisses. 

“It’s okay, it's alright, we’ll clean it up later sweetheart.” Arthur shushes, and you melt back into your state of euphoria with him between your legs. His lips caress your own as his hand swirls your nipple, toying with the hardened peak before it trails down to your hip. 

“I'm gonna touch you, okay?” Arthur whispers against your lips as another quiet rumble of thunder sounds out. You nod, spreading your legs for Arthur as he adjusts himself on top of you, leaning his weight on his forearm. 

“Please Arthur-” You beg as he trails his fingers down your knee to your inner thigh before running his fingers along your folds. He stops, and groans lightly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Shit- you’re so wet. I'm sorry, darlin’ it's been awhile since I-” Arthur starts, but you lean up, pressing a kiss against his lips before whispering to him. 

“It’s okay… been awhile for me too.”

He nods against your forehead, kissing it before continuing. You spread your legs even more for him, and he sinks two fingers into your pulsing heat. Immediately, your grip on him tightens, and you whimper, eyes squinted shut as he slowly works you open. 

“Shh…shh… that’s my girl.” Arthur coos, stretching you with his fingers as you cling to him, gasping for breath at the way he touches you like you’re his canvas, his masterpiece, and the more he caresses, kisses and touches, the more beautiful you become underneath him. He didn’t think it was possible for your appearance to become any more entrancing, but as you moan, arching your back so that your breasts find release against his chest, he finds that he was wrong. 

He curls his fingers inside you rhythmically, pressing down right in the perfect spot before gently stroking your clit with his thumb. It's a delirious combination, and the only thing anchoring you from ascending to the heavens, is him. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Let it go, let me watch you unfold.” Arthur whispers, keeping a steady pace with his hands while kissing your stomach, up to your breasts. He begins to lick at your breast, swirling his tongue over your stiff nipple and kissing your skin every chance he gets. It proves to be your undoing, and just as the rain pounds on the roof even harder, and thunder sounds out, you find your release. Your nails dig into Arthur’s back as you reach your climax, the building coming in waves that have you gasping for breath and moaning. 

“Arthur-” leaves your lips in a mantra as you clamp down on his fingers, the waves of your orgasm washing over you and drowning you in the most indescribable, emotional show of affection. You see stars, flashes of bright white as you gasp and shake, hanging onto the man who you love. 

“Good girl,” Arthur whispers, kissing your forehead a few times as you come down from your high. 

“Real good, darlin.” Arthur coos, sinking his fingers into you until he has completely drawn out your release. Once your back stops arching, and hits the bed again, you pull his face down to yours once more. His hand cups your neck, and you feel your juices on his fingers as he runs his hand from your neck to your jaw, holding it while he kisses you again. His forehead meets yours as you whine. 

“I need- Arthur, I need to feel you, please.” You cry, hands running down the muscles of his chest, down the trail of sandy blonde hair that runs down below his jeans. You pop the button open, biting your lip as you press the palm of your hand against the pressure there. Arthur releases a deep groan, thrusting involuntarily against your hand. 

He leans down, kissing your nose with a smile before standing up and shedding his jeans to the ground. He steps out of them, and you prop yourself up on your elbow to admire him. 

Arthur is big. A bit longer than average, but he is girthy and thick. You scan over his rosy head, and the vein that bulges from the underside of his shaft. And as you follow up the trail of hair, to Arthur’s chest and face, he sees the worry. It’s been a long time, and truthfully you’re not very experienced with this. You don’t know if you can take him, but god, you want to. 

“Arthur I… you’re beautiful.” You whisper, watching the flex of his muscles in the candlelight, the soft, light hair that falls into his face as he chuckles, looking down to hide his smile. 

“Beautiful? Really?” Arthur asks, sarcastically. 

“Yes, Arthur, beautiful.” 

He shakes his head, not agreeing with you really, as he comes back down to the bed. He rests himself between your legs again, kissing your thigh, then your hip… and so on until he reaches those plump, bruised lips. 

“You ready? You still want this sweetheart?” Arthur asks, massaging the tender skin of your thigh as you breath out shakily. You nod, but he senses the trepidation and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

“What is it?” He asks, pulling away from your lips to look into your eyes. He sees you smile, blushing before wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Be gentle, please. You’re- well you’re big Arthur and I really want this…” You whisper, chuckling at yourself for a second. 

“I’ll be gentle, okay? N if it hurts, you tell me. Right away.” Arthur says, almost darkly. He does not want you putting up with any pain for his sake. You nod, before leaning into his chest and wrapping your hands around his neck. Your legs, around his waist, spread a bit more and you feel his head against your entrance. Slowly, Arthur thrusts into you, and everything you were worried about shatters to the ground. God- he feels so good. And before he's fully in, you feel so full, and so stretched. You’ll never get enough of this, you realize. It’s perfect, like two puzzle pieces fitting together as he enters to the hilt and you moan as he bumps your sensitive spot. 

“You okay?” Arthur asks, stopping his hips completely, and you dig your heel into his ass, begging him to do anything but stop.

“Move, Arthur, please. Oh, you feel so good.” You whimper, your hips rising to meet Arthur’s as he thrusts into you. Your moans mix with Arthur’s groans and the thunder, and it’s all washed away by the rain. Not a peep can be heard from outside, but inside the room there is so much raw emotion, lust and love, that even the air feels like it's intruding on you two.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Arthur growls, thrusting into you with more rhythm now that he knows you’re okay. The stretch is the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain that has you inching towards a climax. He kisses your lips, and you lean up to meet him halfway. The kiss is hot and passionate, with gasps for air in between and moans as you two commit the rawest act of love known to man. He rocks against you, swaying you with his hips. The pleasure combined with the emotion of him finally against you is overwhelming. You’ll never be closer, more whole than you are like this. He’s with you. The tightness in your stomach pulls, stretching and coiling all the like until it snaps. Once again, Arthur is your anchor, rocking you, and steadying you as you completely come undone beneath him. You constrict around him, muscles tightening and contracting as an intense wave of pleasure washes over you. Your moans are loud, breathy as you release the tension he’s created within you. It’s too much for Arthur, and as you squeeze around him, he thrusts into you a few times, hard and deep before he cums inside you, filling you completely with his seed. 

“You did so well, darlin. You’re so beautiful…” Arthur whispers, kissing your forehead before placing a long, slow kiss on your lips. He stays there for a moment, letting you catch your breath before sliding out of you. He lands on the bed beside you, and you curl up against his chest. 

“Arthur?” You ask, placing your hand on his chest and cuddling further into him. He takes a sheet from the bottom of the bed, pulling it over you until you’re decent.

“What is it sweetheart?” Arthur asks, brows furrowed as he runs his hand along your arm and watches the rise and fall of your body against his. 

“Did you mean it? Everything you said before…” You ask, propping your chin up to look into his eyes. He runs his hand up and down your back, soothing you while smiling. 

“Course I did.” Arthur whispers, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. 

“I… I love you, y’know.” You whisper back, leaning your head against his chest, too nervous to look into his eyes. Arthur only chuckles, pulling your head closer to his chest with his hand.

“I know, and I love ya too.”

The rest of the rainy day is spent in various forms of affection. You and Arthur lay together all day, whether sleeping or not, reading and drawing or just holding each other. Everything seems right now. Like for the first time in your life you’ve found your purpose, your person. He is your other half, your strength, your ecstasy, and he loves you too, your little aesthete.

[rosesloveletters]

private heaven.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 5,762

Warnings: innuendo/implied smut

Summary: Reader and Wonka spend the morning together, celebrating their one year anniversary.

Author's Note: This fic is very personal to me, since today marks one year since I rewatched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and fell in love all over again with the story, the themes and this man. I am honored to share my love & my writing with all of you; I hope it means as much to you as it does to me. Thank you for all of your love and support on everything I've written for this fandom & for giving a piece of my heart a home. The necklace (pictured above) is mine. Each charm is represented and featured within this fic in some way. Can you find all the references? Some are easier to spot than others.

Edited.

divider created by @/chechelia on Tumblr.

As the first hints of dawn began to peek through the curtains, the soft warmth of the blankets enveloped you, cocooning your body in a gentle embrace akin to the arms of a lover. The mattress cradled your form and molded to its curves and contours as you nestled deeper into the plushness. The pillows cushioned your head, their feathery softness caressing your cheek and the curve of your neck. 

Slowly, you began to drift into that hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness, your senses heightened, yet your mind was blissfully calm. The faint scent of fabric softener mingled with the familiar, comforting smell of skin, lulled you into a state of utter tranquility. 

Outside, the world was just beginning to stir, but in this peaceful moment, nothing else mattered except the enveloping comfort and blanketing security. Time stood still and you savored the sanctity in which your body relaxed; your mind was free to wander in the early morning haze. 

It was a sense of pure, unadulterated bliss - a fleeting but cherished respite from the stresses of daily life, a chance to simply be present in the warmth of the moment before the day truly began.

As you began to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, you noticed you were not alone. 

Your senses slowly awakened to the familiar sensation of arms wrapped around you. 

You felt Wonka’s steady breathing against the back of your neck, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as his mind drifted through the land of dreams. 

His heartbeat, strong and steady, pulsed against your back and the gentle tickle of his hair brushed against your shoulder. 

Inhaling deeply, you were enveloped by his familiar scent—a comforting blend of salted maple and dark cocoa, the faintest traces of his cologne that he used sparingly, and the more natural, earthy aroma which was uniquely his. 

Sighing contentedly, you nestled back against him, savoring the security and affection of his embrace as you hovered in that blissful, in-between state. In that tranquil, dreamlike moment, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you cocooned inside your own private heaven.

Not until you had blinked your eyes open to the golden light of morning that was filtering in through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the bedroom did you begin to realize that today marked a very special day for the both of you and was assuredly the reason that Wonka had chosen this morning to greet you first thing. 

He preferred to rise early and get started on work as soon as he was bright-eyed enough to focus, yet this morning he was still in bed when you woke, arms encircling your body in a tight embrace of love and warmth. 

His body pressed solidly against yours, his light snores in your ear signifying that he must’ve dozed off as he waited for you to wake; the sound made you give a soft, breathy giggle and his eyelids twitched at the gentle sound.

At some point in the night, he must’ve opened your bedroom windows, exposing your bodies to the lingering caress of mid-September morn. Summer had finally begun to wane, ushering forth the year’s next and most eagerly anticipated season. 

The air was crisp and still, save for the distant birdsong heralding the dawn, and you turned over onto your back and listened. 

The warmth of the fresh sunshine gently kissed your cheeks and coaxed you the rest of the way out of your slumber. 

As you stretched your arms above your head, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, excitement bubbling in your chest like a burbling brook.

Today marked a milestone, one full year filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams.

One full year with your lover, Willy Wonka.    Falling in love with a man like him was as exhilarating as chasing sunsets.

It was a dance like the fleeting moments of day's end, a pursuit of the ever-changing canvas painted across the sky. As the sun dipped below the horizon, its brilliant hues ignited the atmosphere in vibrancy–fiery orange and deep crimson mingling with delicate pink and soft lavender, a breathtaking symphony of color that seems to shift and evolve with each passing second. 

To chase these sunsets was to chase the ephemeral, to try and capture the uncapturable, the sublime beauty that hung suspended between day and night. It was a race against time, a frantic scramble to soak in every last glowing ember before darkness fell. 

Yet in this chase, there was a sense of wonder, a deep appreciation for the natural world's daily masterpiece. 

Each sunset was unique, a one-time performance that could never be replicated, prompting the observer to be fully present, to pause and drink in the splendor unfolding before their eyes. 

To chase sunsets was to engage in a sacred ritual, a moment of tranquility and awe in the face of nature's grand spectacle – a humbling reminder of the fleeting beauty that surrounded you, if only you had the eyes to see it.

That was what it felt like to be in love with him. 

His presence in your life was as humbling, as exquisite, as inspiring as a sunset. 

The love you had for him was a cornucopia of emotions wrought into existence by the beating warmth within you, radiating outward across a canvas of darkness and brightening your whole sky. 

Every moment that you had together felt as fleeting as colors chasing each other across the heavens, twirling together in a dance of radiance and regality. 

You felt the same warmth reflected within him, the dawning of color just grazing the tips of your soul as it bled through him and into you. 

His heart rose and fell like the sun, his blue gaze a cloudless sky that chased away the storm in you. 

Those striking, piercing eyes held an intensity that was both alluring and a bit unsettling, hinting at an inner depth and complexity that lay beneath the surface, a gentleness that could instantly disarm and captivate all who fell under their spell. It was as if the boundless sky itself had been distilled into the windows of his soul, a mesmerizing and almost hypnotic quality that left an indelible impression on all who crossed paths with him.

There was no urgency in the way that you loved him, however. 

A fleeting sunset did not hold a candle to the eternal flame of your love for him.  

As he began to wake up, Wonka’s grip on you tightened. He let out a soft grunt as he stretched his legs and shifted closer to your warm body. 

Even the way he held onto you while he slept was indicative of your importance and how much reverence he held for you, clinging to you as though he were fearful you might dematerialize and disappear, leaving him clinging to cold air and memories that would fade all too quickly, but no. 

You weren’t going anywhere. 

Not if he had anything to say about it.

If there was one thing Willy Wonka was good at, it was dreaming.

His desire for love and companionship began as nothing but a dream and he was forever indebted to whatever force conjured you into being his reality. 

With a gentle kiss upon your supple cheek, he opened his eyes, “good morning, dear,” his voice crooned lovingly into your ear and you drew yourself up closer to him, arms encircling his shoulders as his nose tenderly nuzzled against your tight jaw, “sleep well?”

Your response came as a soft moan and a mumbled, “yes, love.”

Wonka chuckled lightly, leaving another sugary sweet kiss on your cheek and whispered, “wonderful.”

Your heart fluttered the same way it had the very first time his lips met your skin and a pleasant shudder rolled down your spine at the rich tone his smooth as caramel voice took on in the early morning, an octave deeper than you were used to as he shed sleep like his favorite coat and woke to greet the dawn.

It was not often that you were given the opportunity to admire him first thing, in all his unkept, natural glory, and you fiercely took hold of every second. 

You shifted and sat up, a pang of disappointment shooting through you as his arms fell away to allow you to sit up. You propped your pillow against the headboard and leant back, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as he followed suit and settled in beside you once more. 

His brown sugar curls were comically disheveled, sticking out at odd angles and flattened at the back where he had rested against the pillow. 

You couldn’t resist the urge to laugh at him and you reached out, cupping his cheek as you brought him in for a kiss. 

He seemed slightly taken aback, but once he felt your lips move over his, he melted like chocolate, the taste of his tongue just as sweet. 

When you broke the kiss, his eyes were shining brighter than the light from beyond your open windows and his voice became hoarse, like you had kissed away all its strength, “I’m guessing you know what day it is.”

You nodded, completely wrapped up in the warmth of him, the distinct voice he used when he wanted to evoke that tenderness in you that he had fallen so in love with. 

Everything about him was much grander than the empire he had built. 

You loved him not for what he had but for what he was and, above all else, he was yours.

“Of course I do,” you said, “It’s our anniversary. How could I forget?”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he replied with a grin and he turned, reaching to the side where he was able to grab a small, long box from the nightstand and proffered it to you, “go on, open it.”

You hesitantly took the box from his hands and, with shaking fingers, lifted the lid and was rendered speechless save for the small gasp of surprise that left you upon sight of what was inside. 

You carefully removed the necklace from the box, a stunning, beaded array of color that sparkled in the light and resembled that of which your heart felt every single time you looked at the man sitting beside you, “Willy, its…beautiful.”

His long fingers ghosted across the back of your hand as he gently took the necklace from you and opened the clasp.

You shimmied to the side and, with your back to him, he laid the necklace into place around your neck and refastened the clasp. 

Your fingers immediately found purchase on the beads, rubbing the cold, round little orbs as they dangled from your neck. 

You were stunned beyond belief by such a tender gesture, unable to wrap your mind around the fact that he had picked something like this out for you, but why this specific piece?

There was always a reason behind what he did and a trained eye could spot it; you liked to think that you knew Wonka well enough to be able to uncover the secrets of why he did the things he did, but even you were still left unaware.

The only difference between you and the rest of the world when it came to Wonka was that when you asked the question, he wanted to give you an answer. 

“What is it about this one…” you began to tentatively pose the question, “…that made you think it was right for me?”

You tugged lightly upon one of the beads, pinching it between two fingers as you so often did when your anxiety began to get the better of you, a nervous habit you developed that grounded you when your thoughts took to threateningly new and daunting heights. 

Wonka tilted his head and his grin turned reassuring, “the colors made me think of you: vibrant and cheerful, yet each color is startlingly different from one another. The beads remind me of your multi-faceted, uniquely beautiful personality and all the wonderous things that I love about you.”

You felt lightheaded, as if you might pass out and you had to take a moment to compose yourself lest you break down in tears at such a genuine confession of his undying love for you, but this was not just meaningless prose spewed from tainted lips and a tarnished sense of what was important, good or right. Wonka meant everything that he said and you had no apprehension for the possibility that he might just be telling you what you wanted to hear. While it was true that you longed for this very moment, a time in your life when a man would show you just how much he cared for you rather than tell you, it never amounted to anything so vastly beautiful and for so many reasons far beyond the obvious. 

You felt like you had been backed into a corner and dizzyingly kissed until you were out of oxygen and teetering on oblivion. A thousand tiny stars collided at the backs of your eyes and swam into focus out of the depths of the great beyond and surfaced in pools of swirling destiny.

This very moment had been a long time coming and it was real.  

His touch was electric and you nearly jumped as his fingers delicately grasped your wrist, fingertips lightly pressed against your pulse like he was checking to make sure he hadn’t just given you a heart attack with how open he was being. 

He had metaphorically cracked his chest and let you see his heart and it bled red for you alone. 

This kind of thing only happened once in a lifetime and thank god, this time, it was happening in yours. 

It was the type of love only present in books or in movies, the kind other people swore was not achievable in real life because ‘real men do not love like that’ but why not?

Why should we stop at the impossible, when it is far more exciting to let ourselves dream?

And amid your attempts to understand what had brought you here, to this very moment, you thought to yourself, “if this sort of love exists inside of my heart, why is it so far-fetched to hope for it to exist in another’s?”

“And if it may be possible, that another heart out there should feel the way that I do, why should their heart not find mine?”

Love was the starting and ending point of all that there was; if it could happen to anyone, why not to you?

You had seen love in your life, even felt it during the most fleeting, heavenlike moments and you knew that if it could happen for another, it could also happen for you, too. 

You let yourself be swept away for once, on the belief that he meant what his words construed and instead of being the means to an end, you became his end, his choice, his everything. 

You were everything that he had always wanted and had thusly been afraid to dream, because even the great Willy Wonka never got everything that his heart desired, or at least, he had thought this was true until his gaze settled on you and his heart knew within the breadth of a second that you were the one thing he had been missing out on for all these years. 

How was it that two hearts found each other in the vastness of such a full world, when what was possible seemed more shocking to occur than the most daring and doubtful fantasies ever dreamt? 

You did not know how you had come by someone as spectacular as him, but your heart remained steadfast. 

You loved him, fiercely and with a wildness you had spared only to and for yourself. 

And, just as deeply as you loved him did he feel the same. 

To love someone as you loved each other was art and for once, you wielded the brush. 

It was your chance to have what you had always dreamed of and you had no one to thank for it more than him. 

That was the thing about Willy Wonka: the longer you spent with him, the easier it became to reach for what you wanted because somehow it was always within reach, no matter how distant it appeared. 

Whether it was pure happenstance or magic was what you did not know, but it was not within your realm to care how it happened, only that it had. 

The relationship you had cultivated with this man was reminiscent of how pearls came to be: a bond which took years to grow, strengthened by intensity and dedication, which steadily grew into something pricelessly magnificent. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Wonka’s concerned voice roused you from your pleasant reverie, “seems I lost you for a moment there.”

“Oh,” your breathless exclamation seemed to renew his initial surprise and his eyes widened as you continued your thought, “forgive me. I was just thinking about what you said. The necklace is…stunning. I feel almost inferior to wear it.”

“Nonsense, my dear!” Wonka gave a delighted chuckle now that he was certain you liked the gift, “It is a gorgeous piece of jewelry, however, I find your beauty to be far superior.”

Your cheeks took on a tinge of pink when he complimented your appearance and you opened your mouth to counter him, when your gaze was pulled in the direction of your chest of drawers which had come into your line of sight when you shifted your body to face him. 

“What…” 

Another gasp was pulled from you at the sight of a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a crystal vase, the perfect accent piece for your sparse bedroom. 

The whimsical arrangement itself was thick with richly colored blooms, purples and pinks of varying hues, a clump of yellow roses setting off the bouquet with a pop of bright color. 

“You got me flowers?”

Your expression softened even further as you reached forward and took hold of his large hand that delicately enveloped yours as your fingers linked themselves with his. 

“Of course,” he replied as though it were an obvious choice, but you did not see it as he did. 

‘How obvious’, you thought to yourself, ‘and yet I must’ve missed it somehow.’

Wonka had intended to surprise you, though he had not expected you to be caught so worryingly off guard. 

“Darling…” he cooed, his maple-sweetened voice dripping with obvious concern, “you didn’t think I would simply get you nothing for our anniversary, did you?”

You didn’t want to answer that. 

The trembling of your hands spoke volumes and as Wonka drew you up against his solid chest and pressed you snug against his body, your legs twisted up together like a soft pretzel, he understood that there was once a time when you expected the bare minimum and weren’t even given a crumb. 

His heart ached in that moment, imagining how the love of his life had once felt unloved and taken advantage of by some nameless face, but that was not your reality any longer and he was determined to show you that the bare minimum was a threshold he would continue to cross and exceed your expectations, surpassing the barriers you had set around yourself so that you did not have to feel disappointed, because he cared for the woman he put his efforts into.  

“I hope I haven’t upset you,” he whispered tenderly, his free hand that wasn’t holding yours rubbed the length of your back in languid, comforting strokes, “I just want you to know how loved you are and how worthy of it you will always be.”

You lifted your head and took his breath away with a passionate kiss, a whirlwind of desire, reverence, grace and gratitude, for all that he had given you, far beyond material gifts. 

Aside from the tangible, he had renewed your sense of self-worth. 

He treated you like the princess that you were and reminded you that, no matter how warped your sense of self was, you were always worth his love. 

He had loved you enough to change your point of view and life seemed a lot clearer when you felt secure in yourself and in love. 

“You’ve done just the opposite,” you replied, craning your neck to gaze at him with love shining in your eyes, “thank you, Willy. For the gifts, yes, but also for all your love. It truly has changed my life in the best way. I never thought that this could happen...”

“It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting…”

You instantly recognized the quote and a fond smile graced your lips as you responded, “And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.”

If it were possible to dazzle a man who found intrigue in only his dreams, you merely had to show him that this reality felt as magical as a dream. 

His dreams were limitless, yet the realities were far grander.

Wonka was delighted by your love of literature and your voracious appetite for the written word. 

Most people thought he spoke in riddles; it turned out there was one person who made sense of it all. 

You could read him like any one of the books he so frequently quoted. 

“Having the opportunity to love you, even for just one year, is something I will always treasure,” he whispered as he leant over you and tenderly kissed your forehead, watching as your nose wrinkled when you smiled with delight at his sweet affection and words. 

“I could say the same, Willy, but for some things in life there are no words.”

His pointed grin and piercing gaze were enough recognition that he knew where you had heard that phrase before.

“You know, I have something for you, too.”

Wonka perked up at this, “for me? Darling, it isn’t necessary.”

“I know that, but I wanted to get you something. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Willy loved everything that you did, simply because it was you who was doing it. It never mattered to him what it was that he was being given or how or why, all that mattered was that it came from the love of his life and with a piece of her heart attached to it. 

How had he come to have fallen in love?

Wonka had long considered himself a romantic, though he was apt to hide such a thing in most social situations because of how untrustworthy the world around him seemed to b. He was not used to wearing his heart on his sleeve or letting himself become too exposed and vulnerable. That was how a person got themselves taken advantage of and Wonka had gone down that path on more occasions than he purposely wanted to revisit. 

There was something about you that spoke the language of his heart, and as it would become apparent to him now, like recognized like. 

You had that same level of mistrust in the world around you, but you had let him in. 

Why?

Perhaps it was something in the way he carried himself or could it have been how you always seemed to see right through him, down to his very core? It unnerved him somewhat how perceptive you were, far more than most he had dealt with in his life. He was used to exceeding expectations, being several steps ahead of anyone he encountered and was thusly able to control any situation he found himself involved in, but you matched his steps no matter how quickly he walked or by how much he increased his stride. 

You were the true gift; you were what he had been waiting for. 

You shuffled out from beneath the bed linens and hung awkwardly over the side of your bed to reach down beneath the frame and pulled a small gift box out of its hiding place. 

As you settled, you handed the box to him and Wonka turned it over in his hands as though it were something precious.

It was, as it had come from you and everything you touched became priceless to him. 

“Shall I open it?” he asked you with a hint of a tease in his voice, making you playfully roll your eyes at his question. 

“No, Wonka, I think you should stare at it some more,” your sarcastic reply made him chuckle, “just open it.”

He carefully lifted the top off the box and sifted carefully through the tissue paper when his fingertips grazed fabric. Plucking the tissue paper from the box and setting it aside revealed that inside the box was a bowtie, not unlike the one he so lovingly adorned himself with almost every morning, adding a pop of tasteful, elegant flair to his outfit and tying it all together in a formal, classically styled appeal. 

However, this one, was radiantly blue. 

“You mentioned to me a while ago how you often thought about changing the color of the bowtie you wear and how you thought that matching it with your eye color was a smart style choice,” I explained as he gently removed the bowtie from its wrapping and held it up to his neck like he was gauging how it might look on him, “and I thought it was a beautiful idea and would make a brilliant gift. I hope you like it.”

“My love…” he crooned that nickname as though you had adorned his heart with stars, stringing up garlands of your love, tangling yourself up in him, “I would love anything as long as it were given to me by you, but this…I don’t think I have ever received such a thoughtful gift…thank you.”

If your love were a constellation, Wonka would be your north star. 

“Oh honey, I can’t wait to see you wearing it!” 

You tossed your arms around him, letting him pull you into his chest as you settled against his body like you were made for him and, who knows, perhaps you were. That would explain why every day that you loved him felt like the first moment you locked eyes with him. 

How every step you took, led you right to him.

This must have been what it felt like to flutter, drifting on a gust of air, flying for sweetness like a butterfly seeking nectar, all for love, for existence, for far more than mere survival, but for everything you never knew you needed until it was right there in front of you. 

You existed for him, because of him—you were his monarch: a rarity, an elusive being, delicate, yet resilient, flying only for him, just for his sweetness. 

“I will have to try it on,” he agreed, already eager to coordinate it with his usual ensemble, “but it can wait. Would you like a cup of coffee, my dear?”

You nodded in response and Wonka gave you another chaste kiss to your temple as he freed himself from the tangle of your limbs and the bed linens, extracting himself from the little pocket of warmth that your bodies had created to go and fetch you both your morning coffee. 

Wonka was gone long enough that when he had come back to the bedroom, you had settled down flat on the mattress again and closed your eyes as you waited for him to return.

The gentle patter of his bare feet against the hardwood floor signaled his arrival, a tray carefully balanced in his hands as he had made his way back to the bedroom. 

The enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, beckoning his sleepy-eyed partner to stir. With a tender smile, he approached the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb your peaceful repose. 

As he set the tray down on the nightstand, the rich, dark liquid glistened invitingly in the mug, a thin wisp of steam curling upwards. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, his weight causing it to dip slightly, and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your soft skin. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and you were greeted by his loving gaze and the thoughtful gesture of him bringing you a steaming cup of your favorite morning brew. It was a simple act, yet one imbued with profound meaning—a tangible expression of his care, his attentiveness, his desire to start your day on a warm and comforting note. 

In that moment, you were enveloped in a sense of being cherished, of being the center of his world, and you couldn't help but smile as you sat up again and reached for the mug, the rich aroma invigorating your senses and filling your heart with gratitude for this man who knew you so well.

Wonka carefully picked up your mug and handed it to you, “careful, love,” he warned, ‘don’t burn your hands. Hold it from the handle.”

You took the mug by its handle and held it in your lap to let it cool a bit before bringing it to your lips and taking a small sip. 

The warm liquid soothed your throat and roused you from your slumber, driving away the lingering darkness from your eyes and your cheeks flushed with color, a beautiful sunrise of rejuvenation beginning to dawn across your features and Wonka couldn’t help but bask in your glow. 

He shifted to sit down again after moving your teddy bear to the side from where it had been hiding beneath the sheets while the two of you slept. 

He fondly remembered how he had gifted it to you for Valentine’s Day, a momentous occasion he likely would not forget for the rest of his days. The way your eyes sparkled with delight when you clutched the bear made his heart swell with pride.

You had deserved a gift as special to you as you were to him. 

As it turned out, the gifts themselves were never what you cherished most; it was the way it felt to be loved so profoundly by someone that they would consider giving you something so meaningful and heartfelt.

All you wanted was to be wanted and Wonka had given you that gift, repeatedly, for an entire year.

You could feel the lump beginning to form in your throat and you thanked the heavens that were contained in his eyes that you didn’t have to speak because you would have forgotten how. 

As important as he had become to you, you had a difficult time putting it into words because his love did not mean just one thing. 

Your love was a vast plain, a sweeping, arms wide open kind of magnitude that could only be captured in tiny glimpses of things that reminded you of what it felt like to be in love with a man like Willy Wonka. 

The world could not contain a man who designed his life to be an escape from that very same world he had found you in. 

If love was anything to him, it was escaping together. 

Wonka could not often trust his own mind because it was the very thing that kept him a prisoner—the irony of it all was not lost on him. 

He hadn’t dreamt you up. 

The only thing he had never been able to invent for himself was connection and he had spent many sleepless nights pondering scenarios of love, of loss, of missed connections and how one tiny glimmer of hope could perhaps change everything, so long as he didn’t lose himself in the process.

Wonka stayed away from people, whether it was because of the invasion of his privacy that he held so dear or because he could not find it in his heart to trust another person after his business had nearly been ruined all because he had trusted the wrong people, but he had to let go of the past. 

His heart was safe in the palms of your hands and he could feel it beating, echoing his love for you throughout his body, down into his very soul. 

“Thank you for everything,” you whispered to him, which brought him out of his thoughts and he focused on the sound of your voice to keep him centered, “not just for today, but for every day we’ve had so far.”

Wonka smiled, a genuine look of happiness spreading onto his face at the sweet way you always spoke to him with, “You’re very welcome, my dear. I must say that it has been a pleasure spending a year with you and I am looking on to the future ahead with much hope for even greater things.”

With coffee in hand, you carefully snuggled up to him, letting him turn your face to his as he leaned in and slanted his lips over yours. 

His kisses still left you weak, but there was a sense of safety and comfort which blanketed you, a metaphorical duvet that warmed your soul just like the one that shielded your physical body from the cold.  

“So am I,” you replied as he pulled back enough to let you speak, his lips still hovering over yours. 

“Now, my love…” he began, his delicate smile beginning to twist into a wicked grin, “once you have finished your coffee, perhaps there is yet another way for me to share my love with you…”

You laughed as his words trailed off, “Oh, there is? Well, how do you like that…”

You felt him nuzzle against your hair, inhaling your scent as his body pressed solidly into yours, as close as he could get and yet he still craved more, “I will take good care of you, dear, if you’ll let me.”

The meaning of his words stretched far beyond the innuendo they conveyed. 

Wonka was going to take care of you every day you had left because you were his greatest achievement, your relationship far more priceless than his factory and all the chocolate he could ever make and if that was not enough to show you how deep his love for you ran, then it would never be enough. 

“I’ll always let you, Willy.”

If words and actions were not enough, then at least, Wonka knew that he always would be. 

[lokischocolatefountain]

Hiiii!

I have a request for you. Can you write something about their wedding? You have mentioned it alot of time and I am curious how their day was.

Chucho’s Boy

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word count: 2.1k words

Summary: Chucho Peña’s boy finds love and nobody could be happier about it but him.

A/N: Hiii! I’m so late with this so I’m sorry about that first of all. I’ve tried something new with the wedding thing and I hope you enjoy it 🥰

Chucho Peña waited on the road in front of his farm, all the work for that morning done and his family gathered in the living room in front of the TV. He hadn’t scheduled much for that day anyways. He worked hard, instilled the same values in his son— perhaps a bit too much. But he knew to separate work from the rest of life. He knew to make time for leisure, make time for family. Perhaps he should’ve drilled that into Javier’s head a little more when he was growing up and still eager to listen to his old man.

“It’s here!” The postman yelled from a distance, still pedaling towards his destination on his old bicycle Chucho knew he’d owned since he took up the job nearly a decade ago.

His lips stretched into a smile as the package he’d been waiting on got closer and closer, yet not fast enough for his impatient heart. He made a quick trip to his front door and peeked in at the gathered family.

“It’s here!” He said, the news causing them to erupt into cheers. He ran back to the road and took the package from the postman.

“Congrats, Chucho! You finally got the tape,” he said, pulling out the notepad with a form for him to sign to confirm he’d received the package that came all the way from Colombia. Ever since Javier said he’d handed the package off to the mailroom at his job, Chucho had been waiting like Javier used to wait for his Christmas presents— impatient, bursting with excitement and counting the days until he could get his hands on it. Now all of Laredo knew that he was waiting for a package from his son.

He thanked the postman for bringing the precious cargo before rushing into his living room. One of his nieces who was much better with technology ripped the package open and set up the VCR to play the cassette. A piece of paper fell out of the package, one he bent down and picked up. He loved letters from his son— phone calls were always cut short by his work and Chucho felt that Javier was more honest with his pen than he was with his lips. But the letter would have to wait.

The TV screen filled with the colors of the office room in the embassy in Colombia, showing him a glimpse of where his son spent all his days and nights when he wasn’t facing danger on the streets. Javier shuffled into the frame, hair combed neatly and wearing the only tuxedo he owned. He adjusted his tie and tugged at the cuffs of his shirt to have them peeking outside his jacket sleeves.

Weddings in Laredo didn’t need such a nice suit. They also had family, he thought bitterly about the job that kept his only child so far away from him. But if it weren’t for the job, he wouldn’t have found the woman he was happy to settle down with. Behind the TV was a picture taken decades ago, back when Javi was only three quarters his current height and when he smiled easily. Back when the farm had Mama, Papa and Javi instead of just Papa and the animals. Carmela had her arm around their boy and Chucho had her hand in his. Oh how much Javier had grown from the little boy in the picture to the man on the television, all dressed up to marry the woman he loves. His heart ached for Carmela as he watched Javier’s features brighten— that was when he knew his daughter-in-law had walked into the room.

That was a smile he saw on his son too long ago, sometime before they lost his mother. Grief had consumed both father and son and while he was able to smile again now, his son had jumped headfirst into a job that took that particular smile away. The one that reached his eyes, one that wasn’t weighed down by the burden on his shoulders at all times. The first time he’d seen it in years was when he brought the girl home to introduce her as the woman he was marrying.

She wasn’t in a big wedding dress. It was white, but nothing grand. Javi leaned forward and whispered something to her, the smile on his lips stretching wider. She whispered something back to him before the officiant walked up and took his position.

“Javier Peña,” the officiant drawled as he looked at the bride and groom. “They weren’t joking, huh? You really are getting married.”

The family laughed at that and he joined. While he married Carmela early, Javier was something of a perpetual bachelor. Long ago, he locked away the part of his heart that wished for grandchildren. Now, he was beginning to hope again as he watched Javier’s smile turn a little shy before it turned cocky. “She couldn’t help but say yes,” he said, smirking at his bride.

“Well I could still say I don’t instead of I do, Peña,” she teased, making them laugh just like the people in the video recording. He took his left hand in his right and thumbed the ring on her finger.

“Is this why people throw big weddings? So the bride feels bad for the expenses and doesn’t leave at the last minute?”

“Maybe,” she answered, laughing with the room. The room fell into silence when the officiant cleared his throat. He pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket and unfolded it.

“I see many men and women leave our homes behind to serve our country, to fight for a cause. Far away from home, I see so many grow lonely, tie themselves to their desks. In the groom’s case, his jeep. Going back and forth between Bogota and Medellin, facing the worst of humanity in this beautiful country. We get nice apartments here, but most never turn into homes as we cannot bring our families here. I’m happy to see that amidst all this, the two of you have found love and have made a home together,” he spoke, his expressions sincere and radiating warmth towards the couple. “Now for the vows.”

“Do you want to go first or…?” Javier asked his bride, ever the polite boy.

“I want to,” she said softly, taking his hands in hers.

The act reassured Chucho. They had a big extended family but Javier was still an only child. They tried. For years and years. But God had decided that they would have one little boy to raise. As an only child, he grew accustomed to doing everything alone- playing, chores, Mother’s Day cards. Javier would never have ended up in his lonesome- his cousins wouldn’t have let that happen. But he’d spread his wings out, flown far far away from family. He put himself in a place where it was difficult to get hold of him.

When she took his hands, it was as though they were telling him that neither of them would be alone from now. They would have each other. His boy would have someone to live for, instead of great big causes to die for.

“At first, I smiled at you at the restaurant only because I wanted to keep the free snacks coming,” she began, making Javi chuckle. “And then I agreed to a date and then another date and then you went and got on one knee at the same restaurant. That was when I knew my ploy for free snacks had gone too far.”

Javier’s laugh was distinct in the room. Chucho would always place it in a sea of people, and find his sweet face in a crowd.

“We’d just had dinner there and as tradition dictates, you paid for it. So I decided to stretch the free food out further and said yes. And now here we are, at the embassy, getting married,” she said, the mirth in her eyes softening to something more earnest.

“It wasn’t my first choice of venue when I thought of a wedding, but you are my first choice of groom. The only choice. I have never wanted to spend my entire life with anyone— that shit scared me. And I know it scared you too. What scares me more now is a life without you. I cannot imagine a life without being cared for the way you care for me, the way you care about everyone you come across in life. I can no longer go without your smile and your warm hugs and the way you can make me feel safe no matter what is going on around us. I promise to give you at least a shred of that safety in my arms when you come home.”

His son’s eyes glinted in the light and his nose turned pink. Telltale signs of approaching tears. His prediction came true as Javi lifted a hand to wipe his tears away. Chucho felt himself tear up as well. All a parent wanted was to see their children be happy. Not many had that blessing.

Oh how Carmela would’ve loved to see their boy get married… She would not have allowed a wedding at an embassy, of course. She would’ve flown herself to Colombia if she had to and gotten their boy to a church.

“I will stand by you in the hard times and the good times. I promise I will care for you the way you care for me. I promise to be your sanctuary, to cherish you when you’re home and miss you when you’re not. I promise you, Javier, the rest of my life, whatever it may look like.”

Javi leapt forward and pulled his bride into a kiss, his hands on either side of her face. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes softening and his smile honest.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice inaudible in the recording but his lips moving the right way to convey exactly what he’d said. He placed a kiss on her forehead when the officiant interrupted saying, “I didn’t say you could kiss.”

Bride and groom laughed and all the way here in Laredo, they too laughed at how eager he was to kiss his now wife. Defying the officiant, he pecked her lips once again before taking a step back.

“This embassy had become my life by the time I met you. My life revolved around work, criminals, cigarettes and bottles of whiskey, all of them mired in a darkness that I didn’t even know existed before I came here. In sunny Colombia, there was hardly any light for me. Until you. I still work too much, smoke too much, drink a little less than I used to— but still, too much. Because of you, I want to do a lot less of that. Because I have you, I want to come home.”

Chucho’s sister cooed at the confession, hand on her chest over her heart as she watched the pair marry. It wasn’t what he wanted, witnessing his only son’s wedding in his living room weeks after it happened. But it was what he had and it was sweet nevertheless.

“But the darkness can no longer consume me the way it used to because you shine brighter than the darkness I bring to our lives. To the woman who does that for me, I promise everything. All that I am and all that I have, though it’s very little, is yours until I die. I promise you all of me, the good and the bad and the darkness only you have embraced. I promise I will protect you with my life. I promise a better life when this is all over, to be a better husband than I have been a boyfriend. I promise to love you and respect you and cherish you the way you deserve to be.”

Chucho sniffled and wiped his tears off, his soul finally at peace to see his son promise himself to a woman, to a life that was more than just chasing criminals. He looked up at the picture of Carmela and spoke to her the way he’d been speaking to her since he buried her. Our boy is happy. Our boy is loved. He has found a home.

Along with the family, he watched the couple say I do. He wiped off more tears as he thought of his own wedding day and the life he shared with his wife, the baby boy they raised to be a good man.

They exchanged rings, smiling at each other and Chucho saw their entire future ahead of them— the parts he would see and the parts he wouldn’t. The children they would have and the love they would share, just like he did with his Carmela.

[tomatoswup]

"Can I get a-"

summary: Hi! Welcome to McDonald's! How may I take your order?

warnings/tags: crack!fic, legit just a crack fic, or aCTUALLY A CRACK!DRABBLE☝️☝️ mcdonalds propaganda, big breakfast and hash brown advocation, poor vash trying to work on a normal day, knives fist fighting a customer waffle house style, reader just wants their breakfast ;(

A/N: ....do i have to explain why i wrote this.....i found the whole mcdonalds au one of the funniest things the fandom could've come up with...it wasn't just a need it was a NECESSITY :D

"Order number 32!"

Ah yes, McDonalds at 7 in the morning, the beeps of the orders coming in, the beeping of the machines, and the bustling talking of the customers either sitting and eating or waiting for their orders.

McDonalds was a true staple of cryptic shopping for hunger.

But you could never get enough of their big breakfast and hashbrowns. And like a zombie, sometimes you found yourself in line some mornings before work.

But this morning seemed a bit...off.

"YOU'RE BURNING THE THE FUCKING HASHBROWNS WOLFWOOD!"

"NO I'M NOT!"

You couldn't help but watch a pancake fly in the air as you made your way to the counter. There, you were met with a kind faced worker, a cute one too! Peeking at his name plate that read "Vash", you gave him a soft smile, still feeling a bit tired.

"Hi! How can I help you?" He asked, returning the smile, the McDonalds hat on his head pushing down the tufts of blonde spikes of his, peeking under the hat.

But why was he wearing glasses? It was practically still dark outside...

"Hi, can I get a-"

"EXCUSE ME! WHY DID I NOT GET ANY LARGE FRIES!" Turning your attention to one of the customers right by you, both Vash and you jumped at the sudden slam of a receipt onto the counter to one of the other workers behind it.

A more pale, blonde man stood there, giving the rude customer one of the most stankiest faces you never thought some one could ever give.

If looks could kill, this man definitely could. He looked like he was about to jump over the counter and pounce on the man with the energy he was giving out.

Waffle House style.

"Err, sorry 'bout that.."Vash sweatdropped before looking back at you "What did you want to order?"

"Can I get uh-"

"JESUS FUCK MERYL DO YOU KNOW HOW TO FLIP A SAUSAGE?"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME!? I'VE BEEN WORKING HERE FOR 2 YEARS! YOU'RE THE NEW ONE!"

You took a step back when suddenly, you saw a flash of yellow flying towards the both of you.

WAS THAT AN EGG??

Oh fuc- "FUCK!" You shouted as you ducked, wait did you say duck? Or did you say fuck?

Looking back up, you saw pieces of egg hanging off the back of Vash's head as you put a hand over your mouth.

Oh noo...

"I'm so sorry-"

You got back up on your feet and leaned over to brush off the egg pieces from the back of Vash's head.

"And I thought today was gonna be a normal morning..." Vash exhaustingly sighed.

Suddenly, you heard a scuffle behind you, chairs moving and things toppling over.

What was going on!

Turning around, you watched as Nai fist fought the customer, chairs flying everywhere as Nai tackled the man into a table.

"HEY HEY KNIVES IS FIGHTING!!" You heard someone scream from the back before the influx of McDonalds workers came running from behind the counter, jumping over or going through the door entrance to aid him.

"GET HIS ASS KNIVES!"

"GET HIM OFF!"

"Oh we're getting sued..."

You couldn't help but just watch on, mouth agape at what just happened in the matter of 1 hour, before looking back at Vash, who kept his place behind the register, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment.

"I'm so so sorry...Honestly, I can give you a free apple pie because of all this..." He apologized, shoulders drooping down.

"Oh um, it's okay, really." You couldn't help but chuckle "Rough morning huh?"

Maybe you should come back another day.

...At least the cashier was cute..

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: The Marketplace Incident

~ my little written sketch for @vesuviaweekly's prompt "How Things Went Wrong (feat the Arcana familiars)". Enjoy an afternoon from the perspective of my fandom self-insert :3 ~

Word count: 1.5k

The marketplace really is the best spot to write in. The bustle of afternoon shoppers in the sunny square is a soothing view from my shaded nook, tucked between Selasi's booth and an alleyway of stairs. The steady sea breeze makes the parchment in front of me flutter, carrying the smell of spiced bread as it tousles my hair from my forehead.

"Need a refill?" The baker leans on the stone wall above the low table I'm pretending to draft my next story on. "Maybe it will help the ink flow better."

"Thanks, Selasi, but I'm afraid I've barely had a sip." I gesture to my mostly-full clay cup. "It's a good blend, though - what did you use for it this time?"

"A craftsman never shares his secrets." He hunches closer, not-so-subtly trying to sneak a peek at my handwriting. "What is today's writing about? More of our six friends' adventures, by a friendly young man whose signature is a rotting brain?"

I roll my eyes at his teasing smile. "Okay, using the moniker 'brainrot' doesn't automatically mean gruesome physical decay -"

We both jump at the sudden cat's yowl from the direction of the baker's counter. A fuzzy orange blur streaks to my corner, tiny claws digging into my shirt as it uses me as a ladder to get to Selasi's shoulder.

"Pounce? What is it, little one?"

"Bad dogs!" Faust's face pops into view, her body slowly unwinding from the cloth umbrella over me.

I barely have time to stabilize her plop onto my arm before I catch sight of two more barking fuzzy blurs tearing around the corner, a screeching raven flapping frantically after them. All three start heading in my direction as soon as they see me stand up to intervene. "Mercedes, Melchior! Come here!"

As ill-trained as I know Lucio's dogs are, the half-finished roll I hold out in their direction is more than enough to convince them. They slide to a halt in front of me, paws and tail still skittering from side to side, eyes trained on the treat. The flustered raven descends on my shoulder and Faust scoots onto Selasi's arm to give him more space.

"It's rare to see these fellows here without their owners ..." The baker runs his hand over Pounce's bushed-out tail in a soothing arc. "Did something happen?"

"What didn't happen?" I mumble in response. I don't think I recognize the strange goop Faust has left on my shirt, or the hooped earring in Malak's beak, or the concerningly pleasant smell wafting off of the dog's silky coats. I hold out my palm in front of the bird on my shoulder. "Give me the shiny, please. Which friend did you take this from?"

"Took it when I squeezed!"

"Who did you squeeze, Faust? Was it Julian?"

"Stinky count. Stole my fishies!"

The hissed voice clearly belongs to a cat, but it's not coming from the trembling ginger tabby in Selasi's arms. Pepi lopes into view on the wall above me with a smug look on her little face. Oh, right. I keep forgetting that she learned how to talk ...

"Lucio ... stole your fish?"

"Pepi earned the fishies - Pepi was a good cat and caught all the rats! Went to the docks to get the fishies, but he took them first!"

I try to piece the narrative together, noticing what looks like a pearly white owl listening in from the roof of the booth. "So ... Portia went to buy Pepi some fish, but Lucio bought them first? Where did the earring come from?"

"Master tried to help!"

"Oh, did Asra try to trade their earring for the fish? I thought his piercings closed up years ago."

Malak caws loudly in protest. Faust wiggles and bobs from her perch on Selasi's shoulder as the distant owl takes off for a different corner of the marketplace.

"Not Master's earring."

I study the golden hoop, finally catching the protective gleam in Malak's eye. "Ohh, this is Julian's, isn't it? Okay, from the top." I watch five pairs of animal eyes point back in my direction. "Portia went to get fish for Pepi, but Lucio bought them first. Asra tried to intervene, and then Julian offered an earring that he apparently owns to bargain for the fish with. Is that right?"

I almost miss the variety of nods when a thick coat of fur unexpectedly brushes across the backs of my knees. When I look down, it's right into Inanna's bright green eyes - and the torn bag of rice in her mouth. She drops it at my feet, spilling the grains across the ground and sending Malak into a flurry of indignant squawks. The wolf curls up for a nap at my heels, completely unfazed. Selasi gently sets Faust on my abandoned parchment and returns to his oven with an amused "good luck!"

"O-Okay." I drag my hand down my face and do my best to analyze the mess. "So why do the dogs smell nice, why is Faust slimy enough to smudge my ink, and why am I the one currently holding Julian's mystery hoop?"

"Squeeze the thief! Rescue the shiny! Run away fast!"

Faust bleps her tongue proudly, while Pepi takes a smug seat on the stones and the dogs begin to growl. One warning huff from the large wolf pretending to sleep behind me quietens the impending ruckus.

"And ... do I want to know about the slime and the fruity smells?"

Pepi yawns above me, slowly succumbing to the sun-warmed wall. "Beauty stall."

Faust curls herself elegantly over my story draft in an attempt to flaunt her shiny scales. "Moisturize."

"You're practically glowing, Faust. Such a beautiful girl!" Asra's trotting in my direction, a very sweaty pair of Devorak siblings close behind and a red-faced ex-count bringing up the rear. The magician scoops her up off of the table, my freshly hydrated parchment going with it, as Pepi uses the top of my head as a springboard into Portia's arms. Julian gives his judgemental raven a sheepish look before brightening at the earring in my palm.

"Did you leave us the rice trail, Faust?" Asra scritches the serpent's chin.

"Wait - rice trail? What rice trail? Is that how you knew where you were going? Where did they get - my rice!"

Inanna gives the shocked doctor a guiltily amused look, nudging the torn bag with her nose and watching the last of the grains spill onto my feet. Lucio straightens from where's been fussing over his perfumed dogs, finally catching his breath.

"Hah! Serves you right for trying to take my fish!"

Portia bristles and turns on him as Inanna slinks off to the large figure skulking in the shadows several booths away. "Your fish? That vendor and I have been friends for three years, you heard him say that I'd get first pick!"

I can't tell if Lucio is grinning or gritting his teeth. "Does it matter? I already paid for those things, they were the least smelly ones!"

"Enough!" The Countess's firm voice rings across the corner of the square, effectively halting the brewing squabble that's hijacking my writing corner. Chandra reassumes her perch on the baker's booth roof as Nadia rubs her temples in resigned frustration. "I have already paid for a year's worth of cosmetics. I have no interest in paying for your argument with a headache as well."

She heaves a tired sigh as the familiars settle in with their owners, sparing me a comforting glace. "Considering the paperless state of your table, I trust there were no writing casualties involved?"

Portia scurries over with a worried look. "Oh, I'm so glad you hadn't started yet!"

"Well ..."

"I think we did interrupt him, unfortunately." Asra's already taking a seat at my table, holding a fresh bowl of rolls in one hand and my smudged paper in the other while Faust hides guiltily in their shirt. "What's a 'ringtone'?"

Julian helps himself to the paper. "Allow me - perhaps I can shed some light on - ah!"

I've already given up hope on restoring my draft, so I don't wince nearly as badly as my friends do as a sharp, golden hand snatches my handwriting and rips it in the process. Lucio's pout deepens the further he reads. "I'm not in this."

"He's probably not finished it." Nadia holds her hand out, impervious to Lucio's begrudging surrender, and carefully offers the paper back to me. "We should leave you in peace, or you'll never meet your deadline."

Portia takes the cue and begins herding Lucio back to the docks for a fresh round of fish. Nadia gives Asra a pointed look, resulting in them stuffing the last of their roll into their mouth and rising from the cushions. They leave the last two pieces of bread for me.

"Julian," I call as he turns away, "one more question."

"Ah - yes?"

"What's the story with the earring?"

"Oh!" He flushes unexpectedly, fumbling the hoop away into his pocket. "... it, ah, it doesn't go in my ear. Adieu!"