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winxanity-ii · 3 months ago

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⌜Godly Things | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | unexpected arrival⌟

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The courtyard was serene as you sat, a soft breeze whispering through the olive trees, their branches swaying gently above.

The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and you found yourself absentmindedly playing the aulos, the dual pipes releasing a lilting melody that carried no particular tune—just notes flowing out of habit.

Your fingers moved automatically, pressing down on the holes with familiarity, though your thoughts were distant, elsewhere.

After a while, the tune drifted to a stop, leaving nothing but the rustle of leaves swaying in the breeze.

You sighed, setting the instrument aside, the hollow reeds settling on the grass beside you.

Slowly, you slouched forward, feeling the tiredness settle in your bones, and then leaned backwards until you were flat onto the soft grass, staring up at the cloudless sky above.

Closing your eyes as you exhaled deeply, trying to enjoy the calmness, but it felt impossible.

There was a lingering tension in the air—an unease that wouldn't leave your chest.

You lay there, staring up at the sky as your thoughts twisted and turned, weighed down by an uneasy sense of dread that no amount of sunshine could dispel.

It was overwhelming—how a moment of peace could feel so fragile, so precarious. Like a thin layer of ice over deep water, one wrong step and everything could shatter.

The warmth, the promise of rest, the brief hope—all of it felt so easily snatched away.

The night of the feast had felt like a dream—a moment where everything was finally right again.

It was filled with laughter and joy, music and dance. The food had been plentiful, the wine had flowed freely, and the smiles on everyone's faces had been genuine.

You could almost still hear the joyful cheers and clinking of cups, the echo of Penelope's gentle laughter, Telemachus' proud grin, and the way Odysseus' eyes glistened as he looked around the room—at everything he'd fought so hard to reclaim.

But the memory was tainted now, overshadowed by what had come next.

You remembered the feast—it had begun beautifully, like a scene straight out of one of your stories.

After the preparations were completed, the palace's great hall was filled with warmth and celebration.

It was not a large gathering—the losses and betrayals were still fresh—but those who were there made up for it with their energy.

Servants, soldiers, and the family sat together, sharing laughter and cheer.

The hall was alive with movement—dancing, smiling faces, and a lightheartedness that Ithaca hadn't known in years.

You'd even joined the musicians, playing your sistrum along with a few other musically inclined servants; the metal rattle emitted a soft, rhythmic jingle—a instrument that required no real effort so that you could lose yourself in the melody.

The sound of clapping, the stamping of feet, and the happy, vibrant music had filled every corner of the room. People spun and danced in circles, moving to the rhythm you all created.

Together, your music swirled around the dancers, the tambourine-like rattles and melodic hums weaving through the revelry.

The flames of the torches flickered in the evening air, casting golden light that made the whole room seem to glow.

It felt endless—pure joy, pure release after so many dark times.

You could still remember the moment Odysseus stood, raising his cup high, his voice strong and filled with hope as he spoke. "May Ithaca prosper in peace," he had declared, his gaze sweeping across the room, his eyes filled with determination, warmth, and promise.

And just as his words settled in the air, the doors to the dining hall had burst open.

A sudden, harsh noise in the midst of the festivities. The music stopped abruptly, and heads turned.

The messenger had stumbled in—a young man—panting, his face flushed and slick with sweat, his clothes dusty from the road. He had looked utterly spent, as though he had run the entire way to the palace without stopping.

His eyes were wide with urgency, and he clutched a bulging satchel at his side, as if it contained something too important to leave behind.

Odysseus' expression shifted in an instant, his eyes narrowing as he watched the man struggle to catch his breath. The king's jaw tightened, and he slowly set his cup down, his eyes fixed on the newcomer as silence blanketed the hall.

The crowd, once cheerful and carefree, now stood in an anxious stillness.

The messenger's steps were unsteady as he made his way toward the head table, each movement deliberate, as though he fought against exhaustion with every step.

Upon reaching the dais, he bowed deeply, his eyes lowered, his hand shaking slightly as he held out a rolled parchment.

Odysseus gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable as he signaled to a nearby soldier to retrieve it.

The soldier stepped forward, accepting the parchment with a solemn expression before handing it to the king.

As Odysseus unfurled the scroll, his eyes narrowed as they swept over the words written there.

His gaze darkened, and the tension in the room seemed to thicken, the cheerful atmosphere turning sour in an instant as everyone waited.

The messenger, still catching his breath, spoke up, his voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. "My king..." he began, his tone urgent, but loud enough to be heard throughout the hall. "...there are several... angry families of the suitors. They are furious, demanding retribution for their fallen kin. They intend to seek revenge." He swallowed hard, his face pale, the fear evident in his eyes.

As he spoke, he opened his bulging satchel, fumbling slightly as he pulled out another scroll—then another, the weight of them causing several to slip from his grasp and clatter onto the floor, parchment rolling across the polished stone.

It seemed that he had carried news from several households.

Odysseus' face was like stone, his eyes cold and calculating as he listened. He said nothing for a long moment, his gaze shifting to the fallen scrolls before he returned his attention to the parchment in his hands.

He then set the parchment down, his gaze sweeping over the people gathered, the warmth and openness from earlier now replaced with caution and calculation.

He stood silently for a long moment, his face hard as stone, before he spoke, his voice calm but commanding. "The feast is over," he declared, each word carrying weight, leaving no room for argument.

That night, the celebration was over before it had truly begun. People left quietly, their faces lined with worry.

The joyful cheer that had filled the hall just hours before was gone, replaced with the cold reality of what lay ahead.

Once again, Ithaca stood on the brink of chaos.

The thought of it gnawed at you as you lay in the grass, the sun warming your skin.

What would happen now? How would King Odysseus handle the families seeking vengeance? Would there be more bloodshed? The questions swirled endlessly, each one tugging at your mind until you could hardly stand it.

You inhaled deeply, the scent of blooming flowers filling your senses—a mix of thyme and lavender that usually soothed you but felt strangely fleeting today.

You opened your eyes slowly, squinting against the brightness, and lifted a hand to shield yourself from the blinding sun.

For a moment, you just stared at the patches of blue sky visible between your fingers, feeling the sunlight filter through, casting shadows across your face.

The courtyard was quiet, but it felt heavy, as if the air carried unspoken words, unvoiced fears.

You finally pushed yourself up, your fingers brushing against the grass, and settled into a sitting position. The sun above was unrelenting, making the world feel almost too vivid, too sharp.

Your thoughts then drifted to Telemachus.

You recalled how he had came to you early that morning, just as the first rays of sunlight were breaking over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold.

He had approached your room quietly, his knocks barely audible over the gentle tweeting of morning birds. His face was still lined with exhaustion, the weight of everything that had happened etched in the set of his brow and the tightness around his mouth.

His eyes, however, were kind as they met yours, and he had given you a small, tired smile.

Telemachus whispered to you in the early dawn light, his voice low and deliberate, sharing the reality of his father's restless night. He told you about his father—how Odysseus had been up all night, his mind sharp, aware of the potential danger looming on the horizon.

The possibility of retaliation from the families of the suitors was not lost on him, and he had set to work immediately, spending hours fortifying his position, preparing Ithaca for what might come.

The prince spoke of his father's resolve, his refusal to be caught unprepared, as well as the necessity of visiting his grandfather, Laertes, for guidance in the days to come.

Telemachus' presence had been brief, just a few moments shared between you before he and his father, and a few loyal servants had departed, setting off to see Laertes—to find answers, to find a way to protect Ithaca once more.

In those minutes, you had sensed not only his fatigue but also the determination that emanated from him—a drive to face whatever trials might come.

And now, here you were, sitting in the courtyard, the memory of his voice still echoing in your mind.

You sighed, the weight of it all settling heavily on your shoulders as you stared ahead, the sun warming your skin, the scent of the flowers mingling with the distant sound of birdsong.

There was a new confrontation on the horizon, one not borne of war or conquest, but of vengeance.

Ithaca was teetering, the promise of peace slipping further away—just as it had felt within reach.

The sudden crunch of leaves and the sound of hurried footsteps broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. You looked up quickly, your gaze locking onto the figure sprinting towards you. It was Telemachus.

"Telemachus?" you murmured under your breath, unsure if your eyes were deceiving you.

He wasn't supposed to be back so soon.

You scrambled to your feet, your heart picking up pace as his form grew closer. The prince's face was flushed, his breathing labored as he rushed across the courtyard.

You barely had time to react before he reached you, his hands finding your shoulders just as you started to curtsy.

"Prince Telemachus—" you began, but he cut you off, his grip tightening on your shoulders. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"The suitors' families," he said between gasps, "they... they are no longer seeking revenge."

You blinked, staring at him in confusion, the words not fully registering. "What?" you managed, your voice barely a whisper, as if you hadn't heard him correctly.

Telemachus nodded, his expression softening as he steadied himself. He could see the disbelief etched across your features, and he exhaled slowly, his voice calming as he explained.

As the prince began to recount everything, his voice wove a story so vivid that it felt as though you were right there beside him, witnessing every moment. You listened intently, the courtyard around you fading into the background as his words painted a picture that seemed almost surreal.

The prince told you how he and his father had arrived at his grandfather Laertes' farm, the land stretched out wide with fields that glistened in the early morning sun.

It had been peaceful, the breeze carrying the scent of fresh earth and ripened olives. But as soon as they had stepped into the clearing, Telemachus had noticed something amiss.

"The moment we arrived at my grandfather's farm," Telemachus began, his voice still slightly breathless, "we saw them—a mob of the suitors' families, armed and marching towards us. Their faces were filled with rage, their voices shouting for vengeance. They wanted blood, retribution for what happened to their sons and kin."

Telemachus paused, watching your reaction, and you couldn't help the sharp gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening in alarm.

The image of an angry mob storming the farm flashed through your mind, and you could almost hear their angry shouts, see the glint of their weapons in the sunlight.

"And you wouldn't guess who was leading them," he added, his tone bitter with a tinge of disbelief.

"Who?" you asked, your curiosity overpowering your unease. You leaned in closer, your fingers brushing against his arm.

"Eupeithes," Telemachus said, his tone carrying a bitterness that mirrored the situation. "Antinous' father. The same Antinous who led the suitors and was the last to fall."

Your gasp was louder this time, your hand flying to cover your mouth. The memory of Antinous was still fresh in your mind—his arrogance, his ambition, and his final moments.

The thought of his father leading the charge against Ithaca seemed almost poetic, yet tragic; you could almost picture Eupeithes' twisted face, anger and grief etched into his every expression.

Telemachus shook his head, trying to fight away the almost incredulous smile that tugged at his lips. "It was surreal, seeing him there, at the head of the group."

The prince's eyes then darkened, his voice growing steadier. "It looked like they were ready for another fight. A confrontation that could've thrown Ithaca back into chaos. My father, my grandfather, I, and those loyal to us were preparing for the worst, ready to defend what was ours." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

You swallowed hard, the tension palpable. The picture he painted made your heart pound, your pulse quickening as if you were there yourself, standing at Laertes' side.

You could see the anger in those men's eyes, the rage that boiled over, the cries for vengeance that echoed through the clearing.

It was the promise of more bloodshed, more chaos.

But then, Telemachus' voice shifted, a sense of awe creeping into his tone. "And then, just as it seemed they would clash... Athena intervened." His eyes meet yours, glinting with something almost like reverence.

You reached out, grasping his arm tightly, your eyes widening. "Are you serious? Athena?" you breathed, your voice trembling slightly.

Telemachus nodded. "Yes. First, she came in the form of Mentor, but that wasn't enough to stop them. The suitors' families were still thirsty for revenge, still determined to take back something they felt they had lost." He paused, his eyes turning distant, as if reliving the scene. "It was as if they were blind to reason."

"And then?" you urged, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. You were practically vibrating, your curiosity consuming you. It was rare enough to hear of gods walking amongst mortals, let alone seeing it firsthand.

Telemachus drew in a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just when it looked like all hope was lost, before any fighting could begin, Zeus himself sent a thunderbolt—a sign, a warning." He looked at you, his eyes bright. "A divine sign—a command from the gods themselves that the fighting had to stop. that enough was enough, that there should be no more violence. It encouraged Athena to reveal herself."

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you shook your head in disbelief. "Two gods?" you murmured, your voice filled with awe. "How incredibly lucky... for Athena to intervene, and for Zeus to send a sign. It's... it's beyond words," you whispered, feeling a shiver run down your spine.

Telemachus smiled, his face softening. "It truly was. It was something out of legend—Athena stepping forth, no longer hidden in disguise, commanding both sides to cease, her presence both beautiful and terrifying. She spoke with such authority; she demanded that peace be restored, and it was impossible not to heed her words."

He paused, watching your reaction as your eyes sparkled with wonder, your hand still grasping his arm.

"Laertes, emboldened by Athena's intervention, was the one to end it," Telemachus continued, his voice growing softer, tinged with something more solemn. "He killed Eupeithes. It was quick, a final act of vengeance for all that had been done to our family."

You blinked, the gravity of the moment hitting you. The father of Antinous was gone, and with him, the leadership of those seeking revenge.

Telemachus nodded, as if he could see the questions forming in your eyes. "Athena didn't let the violence escalate. She stopped it, just in time. She spoke to everyone, reminding them of the destruction that would come if they continued this senseless feud. She insisted that it end there, that no more blood be spilled."

He looked down, his expression softening, the weight of everything finally seeming to lift from his shoulders. "And it worked. The families saw the will of the gods. They laid down their arms. They accepted peace, knowing they could not fight against the gods themselves."

He paused again, taking in a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exhaustion and hope. "Athena erased the hatred from their hearts—the desire for vengeance, the anger that had festered for so long. She promised that the past would be forgiven and that we would all work together to rebuild Ithaca."

For a moment, the courtyard was silent, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. You could feel your heart pounding, the weight of his words settling in, the realization of what had just transpired.

Athena had not only brokered a truce, she had ensured that the hatred would not linger, that peace could truly be restored.

It was as if a miracle had been gifted to Ithaca—a second chance, a chance to heal.

You looked up at Telemachus, a small, hopeful smile breaking across your face. "Thank the gods," you whispered, your heart finally beginning to calm, the weight on your chest lightening ever so slightly.

Telemachus smiled back, his hand brushing against yours gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "Yes," he said softly, his voice steady. "Thank the gods."

The peaceful moment between you and Telemachus was abruptly interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps crunching over the gravel path. You both turned just in time to see a young servant girl rushing towards you, her face flushed, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Prince Telemachus! Miss ___!" she called out, her voice breathless but urgent.

You and Telemachus exchanged a wary glance, the serenity of the courtyard shattering like fragile glass. The prince's expression instantly grew tense as he shifted his attention to the girl approaching.

The servant girl skidded to a stop in front of you, her hands resting on her knees as she tried to steady her breathing. "Ships, my lord..." she managed to say between gasps, her eyes wide with fear. "Ships are arriving at the docks."

Telemachus frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. You found yourself instinctively stepping closer to him, your heart pounding as you tried to read the meaning behind the servant's frantic message.

"Ships?" Telemachus repeated, his voice low, guarded. He glanced at you, and you could see the same unease reflected in his eyes.

You swallowed, your gaze darting back to the servant. "Are they friendly? Do we know who they are?"

The servant shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "No, Miss ____. I only know they bear unfamiliar colors—green and yellow—and they approach quickly. The guards are trying to discern their intentions."

Telemachus' gaze hardened, a silent determination forming as he nodded. "Thank you, Althaia. You did well to inform us."

The girl dipped into a quick, awkward curtsy before she quickly turned and rushed back toward the palace.

Telemachus exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he turned back to you.

For a moment, there was silence—just the wind rustling the leaves overhead, the tension hanging between you like a storm about to break.

You looked at him, your heart twisting in your chest. You could see the weight of the moment in his eyes, the same thoughts running through your own mind.

After everything they had just endured, after the gods themselves had intervened, could more trouble be looming on the horizon?

Reaching out, the prince took your hand in his, his grip firm, reassuring. "We should go," he said, his voice steady, though you could hear the strain beneath his calm exterior.

And with that, the two of you turned and made your way towards the palace, the promise of peace feeling more fragile than ever, slipping further from your grasp with each hurried step.

☆

The flurry of movements after the servant girl's message had led to this moment, every step since then deliberate, hurried, with an underlying sense of urgency.

Telemachus had led you through the palace corridors, stopping by your room to quickly grab your lyre, the instrument a comforting weight against your side. His expression was tense but purposeful, and you followed without hesitation.

The two of you had moved through halls filled with servants whispering nervously, the tension palpable, until you finally reached the great doors to the throne room.

Telemachus stood in his honored position, close to Odysseus' side, while the king sat in his grand chair, regal and composed, the weight of his kingdom resting on his shoulders. Beside him, Penelope sat, her eyes fixed on the doors, her expression poised but visibly anxious.

A few guards stood scattered around the room, their eyes trained on the entrance, their postures rigid. Several servants, including Althaia, stood farther back, their heads bowed, waiting quietly for whatever news would come.

The flags hanging along the walls fluttered slightly, moved by the breeze sneaking through the open windows, the sun casting beams of light across the stone floor.

It might have been a beautiful day, but the fear that clung to the air turned it cold.

Odysseus had already briefed his son on the situation—the green and yellow banners of the ships' flags belonged to Bronte, a neighboring island kingdom.

The family crest, Odysseus explained, belonged to Andros' kin—the arrogant red-haired suitor who had been among those vying for Penelope's hand. Andros was the third son, far down in the line of succession for his own kingdom, seeking to elevate his status by claiming Ithaca as his own through marriage.

The news was such a surprise to you; who knew that brute was a prince?

Odysseus' jaw clenched as he spoke, his eyes narrowing. "It seems they come seeking answers, perhaps retribution, for what has befallen their kin," he said, his gaze shifting between Telemachus and the few gathered officials and guards. "We must tread carefully. The last thing we need is another conflict before peace has even had a chance to settle." He gestured towards a nearby guard. "Fetch the envoy from the ships. They are to be escorted here for a public discussion. Let them see that Ithaca stands united, that we have nothing to hide."

The guard bowed deeply before turning on his heel, marching briskly out of the throne room to carry out the king's orders. The echo of his footsteps faded into the tense silence that followed, the air thick with anticipation.

Now, here in the present, the great hall was silent, the tension palpable, the kind that came right before a storm.

You knelt beside the steps of the throne, your eyes fixed on the polished marble floor, the lyre resting against your knees, a comforting weight against your side.

You could hear the quiet rustle of the guards shifting their stances, the occasional creak of leather as they adjusted their grips on their spears.

Telemachus stood tall beside his father, his eyes forward, his expression unreadable. You could see the way his hands were clasped behind his back, fingers flexing slightly—a small sign of the tension he carried.

Odysseus sat still, his gaze fixed on the doorway, waiting.

Penelope's eyes, however, were on her son, the worry she felt clear in the way her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line.

The moments stretched on, the anticipation growing heavier with each passing second.

The servants along the sides of the room exchanged nervous glances, their postures stiff, uncertain of what was to come.

The sunlight streaming in through the high windows seemed almost too bright, the golden rays a stark contrast to the somber mood that had settled over the throne room.

Your fingers brushed against the strings of your lyre absentmindedly, the soft hum of the notes barely audible. It was a comfort, a reminder of something familiar amidst the uncertainty.

You kept your eyes lowered, focused on the instrument in your hands, but your ears were attuned to every sound—the shuffle of footsteps, the creak of the throne as Odysseus shifted, the faint murmur of voices just outside the grand doors.

Your thoughts wandered as you waited, the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Perhaps this kingdom—Bronte—was foolish enough to believe they could defy a goddess' will, or maybe they hadn't heard in time that the call for vengeance had already been stilled by divine decree.

How long could news travel across kingdoms? It wasn't hard to imagine that word of Athena's intervention might not have reached them, leaving them ignorant and reckless in their grief.

Or perhaps, they simply didn't care.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, the grand doors creaked open, the echo reverberating across the high ceiling of the hall.

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, all eyes turning towards the entrance.

Your eyes flickered towards the grand doors as they creaked open, revealing the guard that had been sent to meet the visitors. Behind him, you could see the figures approaching, their outlines dark against the bright light streaming in from outside.

The guard stepped inside first, his expression serious as he turned to face Odysseus, bowing deeply. "My king," he began, his voice clear, carrying across the silent hall, "The visitors have arrived." He turned slightly, gesturing for the figures behind him to step forward.

A herald then stepped inside, his voice ringing clearly as he announced, "Princess Andreia, envoy of the Kingdom of Bronte, daughter of King Aeron."

Your breath caught at the name. Andreia. There was no mistaking the connection. She must have been related to Andros—sister, perhaps.

And then, she entered.

The sight of her took you by surprise.

Andreia was a striking figure, her beauty undeniable, but it was a beauty edged with something softer, something almost tragic in the way her eyes swept across the throne room.

Her hair, as red as her late brother's, spilled over her shoulders in waves, but where Andros' presence had been rough and full of brashness, hers held an elegance that was both captivating and disarming.

She wore a flowing gown of green and yellow, the colors of her house, the fabric catching the sunlight in a shimmering cascade that made her seem almost otherworldly. The dress was adorned with gold embroidery that traced along the bodice and sleeves, each stitch intricate and precise.

Her pale skin seemed to glow beneath the golden light filtering through the windows, and her eyes—green, like the deepest parts of a forest—were filled with something that you couldn't quite place. Sadness? Determination? Perhaps both.

Andreia moved with a grace that seemed practiced, her steps deliberate as she approached the dais.

Behind her trailed a small group of servants, each dressed in the same green and yellow livery, their expressions carefully neutral. They moved in unison, their heads bowed, carrying baskets and satchels that clinked faintly with each step.

You watched as she drew closer, her gaze briefly flicking over you where you knelt, before turning towards the throne.

There was something hauntingly familiar about her—the color of her hair, the sharpness of her features, the way her chin tilted upward with a sense of pride that echoed her brother's—but the hardness that Andros had worn like armor was missing.

Instead, there was a gentleness that made her seem almost out of place amidst the tension of the throne room.

Andreia came to a halt before the thrones, and slowly, she sank into a deep bow, her eyes lowering in deference. "King Odysseus. Queen Penelope," she said, her voice smooth, almost musical, but carrying an edge of something unspoken. "I come on behalf of my family, the royal House of Brontes, to speak for our fallen kin."

For a moment, there was silence.

You could feel the weight of her words settling over the room, the tension thickening as Odysseus leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the young woman before him.

Penelope's gaze softened as she looked upon Andreia, her fingers no longer tracing the armrest but now resting still, her eyes taking in the sight of the woman with a mixture of empathy and caution.

Odysseus spoke, his voice measured, the authority of a king evident in every word. "Lady Andreia, you are welcome in Ithaca," he said, though his tone held no warmth. "You must understand that the suitors—your brother included—took liberties that demanded consequences. They disrespected my home, my family, and my kingdom. Yet, here you are, bearing their colors. What is it that you seek?"

Andreia lifted her head, her gaze meeting Odysseus'. There was a fire there, restrained but present, as she drew in a breath. "I seek understanding, my lord," she replied, her voice steady, though there was a tremble beneath the surface, as if she were struggling to maintain her composure. "I seek to know why my brother's life was ended without a chance to answer for himself, why his ambitions were met not with words but with death."

The tension in the room grew, the silence that followed her words almost deafening. You kept your eyes on Andreia, your fingers tightening slightly around the lyre, the strings pressing into your skin.

Odysseus' gaze darkened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the scepter, but it was Telemachus who stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much. "Lady Andreia, the actions taken were in response to the dishonor your brother and others brought upon Ithaca. Their intentions were clear—seeking to take advantage of my father's absence, to claim what was never theirs to claim."

Andreia's eyes flicked to Telemachus, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed to falter, her gaze lowering. You could see the pain etched in her expression, the way her fingers clenched around the folds of her dress.

"I do not deny that my little brother was ambitious," she said, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "But he was still my brother. And I... I am here to ensure that his memory is not one of disgrace." She lifted her head again, her eyes meeting Telemachus', and then shifting to Odysseus. "I come not to seek retribution but to seek closure, to understand the choices that led to his end, and to ask that his body be returned to our family, that he may be laid to rest with our ancestors."

A hush fell over the throne room, the weight of her plea hanging in the air.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the emotions in the room almost tangible—the grief, the anger, the longing for peace. You glanced at Odysseus, who leaned back in his throne, his eyes never leaving Andreia, expression unreadable.

For a long moment, he was silent, the throne room holding its breath, waiting for his judgment.

The tension was thick, each second dragging on, the silence almost unbearable.

You watched as Penelope glanced at her husband, her lips parting slightly, as if she wished to speak, to offer some kindness to the young woman before them. But she held her silence, respecting her husband's authority in the matter.

Odysseus finally nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, his voice echoing through the hall. "You shall have your brother's body, Lady Andreia," he said, his tone still guarded but carrying a note of finality. "But understand this—what was done was not done lightly. Your brother's choices led him here, and Ithaca responded as it had to, to protect itself, to protect its queen." His gaze bore into hers, a challenge, a warning. "There will be no retribution, no further claims upon this land."

Andreia bowed her head deeply, her shoulders sagging slightly in what might have been relief or perhaps exhaustion. "Thank you, King Odysseus," she said quietly, her voice barely audible.

You watched her, the sight of her bowed figure filling you with a sense of sadness.

In her, you could see echoes of Andros—the ambition, the pride—but also something gentler, something that perhaps had been lost in him along the way. She was here not for power or revenge but for something simpler, something more human.

Odysseus turned to Telemachus, his gaze softening slightly. "Telemachus, escort Lady Andreia and her retinue to a place where they may rest and prepare. Ensure they are comfortable, and that they have all they need."

Telemachus stepped forward immediately, bowing his head in acknowledgment. "Of course, Father." He turned towards Andreia, his expression polite, though his eyes held a hint of curiosity. "Lady Andreia, if you would follow me," he said, his voice steady.

Andreia straightened, nodding once before gesturing for her servants to follow. Telemachus led them out of the throne room, a guard falling into step behind them, ensuring that the visiting party was properly escorted.

The room seemed to collectively exhale when the grand doors finally closed behind Lady Andreia and her entourage. The echo of their departure faded into the distance, and a different kind of silence filled the throne room—a silence tinged with relief rather than tension.

The guards visibly relaxed, shoulders loosening as they resumed their positions, their once rigid stances softening. They exchanged quick glances, the unspoken communication between them conveying a shared sense of cautious optimism.

A few of the servants resumed their tasks, their steps light as they moved to tidy up the room or to attend to matters elsewhere, their nervous energy now dissipating.

It wasn't long until the throne room was nearly empty, just a few trusted guards stationed near the exits, the king and queen, and you.

Penelope turned towards her husband, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, the lines of worry on her face softening. "You handled that beautifully, my love," she said, her voice tender, full of genuine admiration. "Many others in your position would have shown nothing but hostility, yet you offered her understanding." She leaned a bit closer, her gaze warm as she watched Odysseus. "It shows a strength that is rare, a wisdom that goes beyond vengeance."

Odysseus looked at her, his stern expression softening in response to her praise. He did not speak immediately, but his eyes held hers, his gaze filled with something unspoken, something tender. He gave a small nod, his lips curling just slightly in what could almost be called a smile.

Though his words were few, his attention to his wife spoke volumes—his gaze unwavering, listening to every word as though her voice alone anchored him.

"And that young princess," Penelope continued, her voice brightening, her eyes sparkling. "To travel all this way on her own... there is a strength in her that I admire. It takes courage to face what she has, to step into a kingdom that might view her as an enemy."

Odysseus hummed thoughtfully, as he nodded. His hand moved to rest over hers on the armrest of her throne, a simple gesture that conveyed more than words could in the quiet that settled between them.

Penelope's smile grew, her gaze distant for a moment, before she turned back to Odysseus, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Perhaps," she began, a hint of enthusiasm creeping into her voice, "Lady Andreia should join us for dinner tonight." She rose from her seat gracefully, her movements fluid as she stepped forward, her eyes alight with purpose. "It would be a gesture of peace, a way to make her feel welcomed."

She looked over to you, her smile widening as she beckoned you forward. "Come, dear. There is much to do—let us head to the kitchens. We must prepare the menu and find out what our guests might enjoy." Her voice was filled with a warmth that seemed to dispel the lingering tension in the room, her excitement contagious.

You blinked, startled for a moment, before quickly standing, clutching your lyre tightly as you moved towards her. You nodded, offering her a small smile as she reached for your arm, her grip gentle but insistent.

As Penelope led you out of the throne room, her demeanor was almost buoyant, her steps light, as if she had already dismissed the worries of the day.

Her presence, her warmth, brought a sense of normalcy, a reminder that even amidst uncertainty, there were still traditions to uphold, still hospitality to offer.

A/N: sorry for the lack of updates, the semester's coming to an end so im kinda swamped with exams, papers, etc. as well as trying not to fall into a hibernative-depression due to me having to start back working to fix this damn tooth 😡😡; also i took a lot of you guys advice and decided that apollo will be met last, hehe

[A/N: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 ��𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐂 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 "𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐚" 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭; 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐝 😭😭. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫~]

andreia:

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nahoney22 · 9 months ago

Text

🌺 Foxglove Commander Fox 🌺

Garden Wishes

X female senator reader

word count: 1.3k

🌸 💐 Flower Fic Event 💐 🌸

Just a cute little event with Clones and some Flowers me and some of my moots decided to do on discord for @arctrooper69 birthday today! 🎉 🌸 🌺 Check the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see more! 💐

warnings: None, fluff, reader wearing a skirt, catching feelings.

Others involved with this event are (will add links to there fics once posted💜):

🌸 @arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

🌸@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

🌸 @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

🌸 @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

🌸 @l-lend - Wolffe

🌸 @jedi-hawkins - Kix

🌸 @moonstrider9904 - Howzer

“It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree, Commander?” You muse, enjoying the sun's warm caress on your skin. Your question is directed to Clone Commander Fox, who trails a few steps behind you as you stroll through the Senate Gardens.

As a Senator, moments of peace and solitude are rare and precious and for you, it’s best spent admiring the diverse plant life. Though Commander Fox, your assigned protector, doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“It is, ma’am,” he replies curtly, his lack of enthusiasm evident. You decide not to press him and continue your walk with a playful roll of your eyes.

Pausing by a bush adorned with tiny white flowers, you crouch carefully to avoid snagging your regal, albeit cumbersome, skirt. “These are some of my favorites,” you say as Fox halts behind you. “Leucanthemum Vulgare.”

“I’m not familiar with it, ma’am,” he responds, surprising you. Fox rarely speaks unless spoken to, but perhaps after weeks of close quarters, he feels inclined to converse back.

“Just daisies,” you chuckle, standing again. You notice Fox instinctively reaching out to assist you, only to quickly tuck his hands behind his back when you were fine.

Continuing your walk, your feet eventually tire, and you opt to sit on a nearby bench while Fox stands awkwardly beside you. “You can sit with me, Commander,” you suggest, patting the space next to you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must remain vigilant to protect you,” he replies, giving you a nod and you can’t help but wonder what expression lies behind his helmet.

“I doubt anyone will attack me here,” you say, though Fox’s squared shoulders suggest otherwise. “...or do you know something I don’t?”

He clears his throat and gazes down at you, his eyes meeting yours through the visor. “All Senators are at risk, ma’am. However… your advocacy for Clone rights has made you a target in certain political circles.”

You shrug. “If they want to shoot me for it, so be it.”

“Ma’am, please don’t say that,” Fox winces, looking away and shaking his head. He seems to want to speak freely, but refrains.

“Thank you for protecting me,” you say gently, shifting your gaze to the vibrant flowers that soothe your nerves. “I can’t think of another Clone I’d rather have by my side to appreciate these gardens.”

Fox tenses beside you. “Y-you’re welcome,” he stammers, a rare but endearing lapse in his typical stoicism.

You both settle into a peaceful silence, though you wondered how Fox is faring. Often, you ponder whether he enjoys these quiet moments with you or would rather be back in his office. You recall the amusing sight of his brothers stuffing countless empty caf cups into a corner when you first visited him, and the strain in his voice and stiff body language betrayed his embarrassment over the discovery of his caf addiction.

You just hoped it wasn’t because he was exhausted.

“So,” you begin, snapping out of your worried thoughts, “you’ve walked with me in these gardens plenty of times now, Commander. Is there any particular plant, flower, or tree you like?”

Fox turns his head towards you, tilting it slightly, which you find unexpectedly adorable and you scold yourself mentally for thinking so.

“I’m afraid my answer will bore you.”

You give a wry smile. “I’m sorry, you probably have more important things to be doing, I’m sure.”

“Taking care of you is the most important thing to me,” he says almost sternly. The way he says it sounds almost desperate, not just dutiful. Realising this, he adds, “as it is my current job.”

Clearing your throat, you turn your gaze away, hoping he doesn’t notice the tips of your ears burning with a blush. “I see.”

He nods simply, but after a moment, he sighs slightly. “There is, uh, one flower that catches my eye every time we come here actually.”

You look back at him, surprised. “Really? Which one?”

“It’s over there in the corner to the right.” He nods in the direction, and you stand, asking him to show you.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if you’re serious. But judging by your smile—something he has grown rather fond of—he nods and leads the way.

You stop in front of a flower bed filled with a mix of pink, purple, white, and red flowers—tall and breathtaking, and quite familiar to you.

“I believe these are Digitalis purpurea,” you say, leaning forward to inhale their delicate fragrance with a soft smile. “I can see why you like them, come to think of it.”

He nods slightly, pleased to have a name for the flower, even if he wasn't going to try to pronounce it. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” you say with a smirk as you turn to him, “it’s also more commonly known as ‘Foxglove.’”

“Oh, really?” he asks, genuinely curious, and you nod in confirmation.

“Quite the coincidence, don't you think?” you add, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Fox seems taken aback, the irony not lost on him. “Yes, quite the coincidence indeed.” His voice is softer, and there's a hint of a smile in his tone that you wholeheartedly wish you could see.

Fox admires the flowers once more before his eyes drift to the ground where a small bunch had been either knocked or blown off. He bends down and picks them up, then without thinking, holds them out to you. “Would you like these?”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, looking at the outstretched flowers and then at him. “Oh,” you say pleasantly, reaching out and taking hold of the slightly battered and broken stems, “thank you, Commander.”

But you notice that he doesn’t let go at first, instead focusing on the way your fingers brush against his. You feel your heart skip a beat as you both look at each other, neither of you willing to let go. This had to stop. This was completely inappropriate. But yet…

“Senator, Commander Fox.” A voice interrupts you both, and you almost gasp as you quickly let go of the flowers and turn to see who has interrupted this—if you could even call it—moment.

“Thorn,” Fox acknowledges, his attempt to sound composed betrayed by the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

“You are both needed inside. I did try to comm you, but I, uh, must’ve not gotten the signal.” Thorn's tone carries a hint of amusement, and you feel a rush of nervousness and fluster. Did Fox feel the same awkwardness you did?

You glance at Fox, who gives a curt nod to Thorn. “Understood. We’ll head there immediately.”

As you walk back towards the Senate building, you can't help but replay the moment in your mind. The gentle brush of his fingers against yours, the intensity of his gaze behind his visor—it was so unlike the stoic Commander you had come to know.

“Thank you, Commander,” you say softly once the two of you were alone again, glancing at the flowers in your hand. “For the flowers.”

Fox nods, his voice steady but tone also softer than usual. “You’re welcome.”

Later that day, you receive word that you are needed on a different planet for urgent Senate business. As you prepare to leave, you find yourself thinking about Fox and the moment you shared in the garden. An idea forms in your mind, and you act on it impulsively.

Before you depart, you make your way to Fox’s office. It's empty, as he's likely out on duty. You place the flowers on his desk, arranging them neatly. Beside the flowers, you leave a small note:

‘Hopefully you will protect these like you protected me until I come back, Fox.’

And signed with your name. Not just Senator.

With one last glance around the room, amused to see his caf cups still there, you quietly slip out.

When Fox returned to his office that evening, confused with the days events and how he was feeling about you, he never realised he would experience missing someone. Yet as he reads the note you left and looks at the flowers, he does something strange. He pushes his steaming caf to the side and instead, lets the memory of you and the scent of the Foxgloves relax him.

He would not tell the others, but he could not wait for another stroll in the gardens with you.

Masterlist is pinned 😊

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @thiswitchloves9904

@whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @the-bad-batch-baroness

#cloneflowerficevent #commander fox x reader #commander fox #reader x commander fox #clone fox #fox x reader #nahoney22 writes

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valrayne-faeu · 22 days ago

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Hi! This AU is still living in my head rent free ^^

Could I ask about what the galas/balls in the Fae realm would be like? What kind of music would be played? Who would be invited? What would everyone be wearing? Would there be any performers? I'd like to know everything!

there would be differences depending on what the event is for! i’ll give some general details for the most common things i can think of ^^

fae galas and parties last a lonnnnng time. they go on through the day and night without stopping and can last anywhere from a few days to a couple weeks depending. because of this they take a lot of planning and the kings don’t really get to enjoy them as much as everyone else does. attendees don’t have to be there the entire time, of course; people leave and return at their leisure.

smaller/shorter functions probably happen with relative frequency (maybe a few times a year) while larger and longer celebrations are much more infrequent (once every 3-5 years). it really depends on what’s been happening lately, and if there’s anything worth celebrating, like major anniversaries (the courts’ truce, the kings’ birthdays (at this point they really only pay attention to even centuries like 1400, 1500 etc))

usually the kings will pick some kind of suitable theme for a gala and the food and music will be based around that. similarly, dresscode depends on what the event is for; it can range from casual everyday-wear to incredibly lavish and elegant attire like ball gowns. it's up to the kings and the event.

the kings care a lot about presentation and their citizens can be very critical if things go wrong, so they are very careful to choose cohesive elements and making sure things go smoothly. Nightmare is partial to masquerades (i have lots of fun facts about those), Dream loves harvest festivals

Dream prefers smaller groups of entertainers so that in any given area in the massive hall in the Summer Court you can hear a different kind of music or see a different kind of performance at all times. Nightmare usually centres some kind of major performance at given times with breaks between, like a grand orchestra or a short play or poetry recital. it’s a big deal to be selected to perform for either king, and fae artists spend lots of time preparing their auditions.

food is usually a large spread that is continuously refilled; you’ll see things like spiced wines, artisanal pastries, exotic fruit, roasted meats, basically anything you can think of.

depending on the intent behind the event, invitations can either be to specific groups, fae specifically invited by the kings, or be open to all. celebrations for a big successful trade caravan for example may only have the merchants, their families, the caravan workers, and the court ambassadors in attendance.

celebrations for the kings’ birthdays would be preferred by both to be kept small, but due to how major of an event it’s considered by everyone else they’re always a major event. the kings will host a large party (they haven’t held a shared birthday party in a millennia, but it could happen someday….) and all citizens are invited. they’ll make their required appearances at the gala, but generally will host a small private get together with their close circle that is their true party.

a truce anniversary is a combined, massive party held either in Winter or Summer (they alternate) and any and all are welcome to attend. massive swaths of fae will make the journey and it lasts weeks with dancing and food and wine. it’s one of the rare times you’ll see both kings at the same event and actually interacting amicably (though it is a little tenuous still).

some notes about fae parties and human attendees:

-fae wine is potent and influenced by the intent of whoever pours it. this means if someone is feeling particularly happy when they pour it, whoever drinks from that cup will be inclined to also be happy. it doesn’t force you into that emotion, but you will be more likely to experience it and if you’re already experiencing it it will be heightened. fae wine is particularly effective on humans!

-fae dances are also potentially deadly to humans; if a human joins in a fae dance circle they can get overwhelmed and swept up in the experience and forget to stop dancing, or may not even want to. humans that have joined fae dances have danced themselves to death from exhaustion/dehydration. so always bring a buddy that can pull you out of it :)

—note: a one on one dance (like a slow dance with a partner) would not have the same effect! it’s just if the fae are doing a dance circle; there’s usually one going on at all times, so just be wary of what dances you’re joining

-fae food and drink will, of course, trap you if you haven’t been already. avoid the big spreads at a fae party unless you want to have to request the trials once the party is over

if you have any other questions about a specific kind of party, please feel free to ask!

#faeu asks #faeu lore #faeu nightmare #faeu dream #mod owl #faeu worldbuilding

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rainerioun · 6 months ago

Text

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖧𝖮𝖡𝖡𝖨𝖤𝖲 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖯𝖨𝖢𝖪 𝖴𝖯? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hi there! Remember, no matter which pile you pick, if you think of a certain hobby that isn't on the list, it still counts! Your own interpretation matters. I hope you all are well. :D

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : JULY 19TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

Explanation. Nine of Cups [Reversed], Two of Swords [Reversed], King of Swords. The Queen : Determination, Sacrifice [Reversed].

Consider finding a hobby that offers inner peace and mental stimulation rather than just physical satisfaction. Discovering the value in activities that don't give instant rewards can be quite enlightening.

Hobbies: — Reading, Writing, Meditation, Yoga, Puzzles, Singing. [Learning a new language for some!]

PILE TWO

Explanation. Page of Swords, Four of Wands. The Botanist: Parenthood, Legacy.

Finding a hobby centered around creating would suit you best. Consider exploring multiple hobbies; even learning about them can be beneficial. I envision more 'domestic' hobbies, activities you can do that will add to your home.

Hobbies: — Gardening, Macrame, Crocheting, Painting, Crafts, Candle/Jewelry/Soap Making, Scrapbooking, Collecting Trinkets, Pottery.

PILE THREE

Explanation. Six of Pentacles, Eight of Cups, Seven of Swords. The Pathless: Difficult Decisions, Lack Of Direction. The Walker: The Unknown, A Journey.

This pile was a bit challenging to interpret. If any of you are considering turning your current hobby into something profitable, you absolutely should. Everyone who chose this pile needs something that will significantly change their life. It's time to embark on a journey you might have been afraid to take before and share your gifts and interests. For others, you need physical hobbies that get your heart pumping. It might be a good time to explore hobbies that help you move on from past interests that have grown stale.

Hobbies: — Volunteering, Jogging, Roller-skating, LARPing, Cycling, Martial Arts, Dancing, Bowling.

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delusionalwritingsofagay · 4 months ago

Note

Hellooo can I request for soulmates!au with targaryen male reader x oberyn?

Reader is rhaegar's twin brother, but other than the same sliver hair and dark purple eyes they don't look much alike, reader is tall and broad shouldered and on the heavy side, introverted and is not a fan of court whatsoever

Sun kissed

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Male Targaryen reader Tags: soulmate au {A touch from your soulmate will leave an imprint there}, falling in love, word count : 1179

Y/N Targaryen the twin brother of Rhaegar Targaryen was not one for grand gatherings. With his silver hair cascading down broad shoulders and dark purple eyes that often flickered with disinterest, he stood in stark contrast to his brother's ethereal beauty. Y/N preferred the solitude of the castle gardens, where whispers of nature could replace the empty chatter of the court.

Having left the festivities behind, Y/N wandered through the red keep garden. He stopped by a fountain, its waters shimmering under the light of a crescent moon. There, he let out a long, weary sigh,

Little did he know, someone was watching him from the shadows.

Oberyn Martell leaned against a pillar in the dimly lit space, his dark, serpentine eyes studying the man who was both a prince and a ghost in his own castle. The air crackled with intrigue as the prince of Dorne took a step forward, the fleeting moments of his reputation as a fierce warrior clashing against the pull of something deeper when he laid eyes on Y/N.

"Lost in thought, are we?" Oberyn's voice was smooth like honey, cutting through Y/N's musings.

Startled, Y/N turned, locking eyes with the Martell prince. "Being lost is preferable to being found," he replied with a teasing smirk, an armour against any vulnerability.

Oberyn chuckled softly, the sound invigorating the cool night air. "And yet here I am, willing to find you. Not many can say they have seen Rhaegar's brother."

"People have strange inclinations," Y/N replied dryly, "and I have made it abundantly clear that I do not belong in their games."

“Neither do I,” Oberyn said, stepping closer, the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Court is a web of lies and politics. I'd much rather hear about your thoughts on the sea or the stars.”

Intrigued, Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You are very bold, aren't you? To approach me like this, in the dark."

“Perhaps,” Oberyn admitted candidly, his smirk shifting to sincerity. “I find something… interesting in you.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened at the charged atmosphere weaving around them. “Interesting… how so?”

Oberyn smirked, stepping even closer. For a brief moment, Y/N could almost feel the warmth radiating off the man before him. “You are fierce in your silence. An undercurrent of passion flows beneath, like a dormant volcano. You’re trapped by those who seek to define you. But I am not afraid of fire, nor am I afraid of the ashes.”

And then it happened. Oberyn reached behind his head, brushing aside the silver hair that veiled Y/N’s eyes and cupping his face momentarily in a gentle but daring touch. The world around them faded, and Y/N felt a surge of warmth wash over him, a sensation blooming vividly where Oberyn’s fingers lingered.

It felt as though a piece of himself had been uncovered—a mark left upon him, an imprint that whispered of possibilities. “You…” Y/N faltered, lost in the intensity of the moment. “You felt it too.”

“Of course.” Oberyn’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper,his gaze filled with understanding as if they shared a secret no one else could grasp. Oberyn's eyes gleamed with a mixture of mischief and sincerity, a blend of emotions that both excited and terrified him. “It means we are bound in a way that defies the chaos of our worlds, Y/N. A connection that transcends mere courtly expectations.”

Y/N felt his heart race at the sound of his name on Oberyn’s lips—a melody he hadn’t realised he longed for. They were a stark contrast, he and the Dornish prince; where Y/N was all stormy skies and shadows, Oberyn was the blazing sun, radiating life and intensity. Yet, within that contrast, there was an undeniable pull, a gravity that knew no bounds.

He took a step back, consideration forcing a separation he wasn’t sure he wanted. “You have no idea who I am, Oberyn..” The walls he had built around himself felt shaky now, as if the touch of his soulmate had begun to erode the very foundations he had relied upon for protection.

“Perhaps not,” Oberyn replied, not backing away but rather holding his ground. “But I am not afraid of getting to know you behind your reclusivity. But tell me—what do you truly desire?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Y/N had never considered what he wanted for himself beyond the confines of duty and expectation. He rubbed the spot where Oberyn’s fingers had brushed him, a soft imprint warming his skin, like a reminder that he wasn’t just a shadow of his brother.

However, a sense of wariness crept in, fueled by the walls of responsibility society shoved upon him. “I desire—” he faltered.“I desire freedom. The ability to explore the world without judgment hanging over me. Here in King’s Landing, I feel like a ghost. I wish to step away from it all—”

“Then why don’t you?” Oberyn stepped closer, an unyielding shimmer of encouragement sparkling in his piercing gaze. “Leave King’s Landing behind. Come to Dorne with me.”

The proposition came like a revelation, an escape untainted by the dark intrigues of their current lives. “You can't be serious,” Y/N responded, the idea both exhilarating and impossibly terrifying. Just the thought of leaving everything behind sent jitters of anticipate

through his body.

“I am very serious,” Oberyn said, his voice low and inviting. “Dorne is a land of sun and freedom, where the winds carry the salt of the sea and the laughter of the people. You will not have to hide there, Y/N. You could do whatever you wish. Be whoever you want to be.”

The moment was filled with anticipation , and Y/N felt the weight of Oberyn’s words stirring something deep within him. Hope. The flicker of a longing he had tried to extinguish for far too long began to simmer again.

“Your touch…” he said, hesitantly tracing the imprint where Oberyn's fingers had rested. “It leaves a mark. A reminder of our bond.”

Oberyn’s voice turned low, almost conspiratorial. “Then cherish it. Cherish the possibility of what we could create together.” His gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through the fog of doubt.

“Are you truly unafraid?” Y/N asked, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped closer to the Dornish prince, boldness emerging he hadn’t recognized within himself before.

“Fear has never kept me from seeking what I desire,” Oberyn replied with decisive earnestness that stoked the fire within Y/N.

“Perhaps one is foolish to court danger so closely,” Y/N mused, allowing a grin to break through his troubled countenance.

Oberyn stepped forward, the air thick with tension perhaps so,but I can think of no greater folly than living a life devoid of passion.”

He took a breath, his heart pounding as he dared “Then, perhaps… Perhaps I will venture with you.” he took his hand clutching it in a fierce grasp. “I will come to Dorne, my prince.”

#x male reader #game of the thrones x reader #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x reader #oberyn martel x male reader #oberyn martel x reader #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #pedro pascal

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pedgito · 1 year ago

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Five: Christmas (Week Four)

Chapter Summary: The end of your vacation with Joel is lingering in the distance, spending the final few days sharing as many moments as possible until your final day, which might not be the end of you and Joel, but it definitely feels that way.

Chapter Warnings: (6k) : no outbreak, consensual somnophilia (talk mentioned in chapter), oral (f & m receiving), joel being vulnerable, the most sappiest and deeply emotional sex you can have with a man you've only known for a month, unprotected piv, bittersweet goodbyes

The days leading up to Christmas are slow and cherished. With the looming end of your shared vacation not far off, it feels like each moment is precious. A story that could be shared a million times, but something you craved to keep close to your chest.

Joel always looms near, a step or touch away. He eventually found the courage to sift through your stash of books, picking something old and worn away and relaxing himself on his own couch while you took up the other, a mutual moment of quiet bliss.

You bug him with random questions more often now, curious to gather as much stuff about him as your brain could manage and he often did the same, whether out of courtesy or not.

His favorite color is green, occasionally blue. He likes the softer purple…lavender, he thinks? But, that’s only because Sarah does.

He doesn’t think he’s much of a cat or dog person, but he always ends up feeding the stray animals around his neighborhood—again, something he picked up from Sarah.

He carries her with him everywhere and smiles at every mention of her name. It’s beautiful. And you feel the lingering bittersweetness around it all, knowing that he didn’t get to see her nearly as much as he wanted.

“What’s your favorite animal?” He asks a few days before Christmas, stirring the sugar into your coffee before shoving it into your waiting hands.

“Uh—wolves?” You sound unsure, but you nod more confidently, “Yeah, wolves are cool. What about you?”

“Horses.” He answers simply, “You ever ride one?”

“Given I’ve lived in Austin for so long, you would think so–but no.”

He almost has the inclination to invite you, but then he remembers.

You won’t exist to him outside of here. And he to you.

“You gotta change that, darlin’.”

“I’ll try.” You answer with a smile, sipping gingerly at the steaming cup of coffee.

Joel likes his time to himself too, unlike yourself. Being alone here felt off, weird—considering you went into the trip with idea that you would be completely alone, it was almost too lonely when Joel would sneak away or take a drive into town. You never questioned it, though. Sometimes he’d leave to call Sarah, even if the call didn’t actually make it through. Sometimes he’d leave to pick up more coffee that he would eventually run through because he wasn’t a one cup a day type of person.

He was more like a five or six. Seven on the days that seemed too dreary and long. It couldn’t be good for him, but he knows none of this is either. The sex, the growing affection toward a stranger that he would eventually have to leave behind, the underlying attachment to you.

It’s Christmas Eve when Joel rolls over in bed and throws out the idea of having breakfast in the small town a couple hours away, just for a change of pace.

He doesn’t explicitly try to make it seem like he’s asking you on a date, but it feels that way. The shyness he hides behind a few clears of his throat, turned over on his side in the bed that he had very savagely fucked you in the night prior, thighs still aching from the way he gripped your skin and forced you open.

It’s a stark difference from the gentle man in front of you and that’s what you loved about him.

And the moment the thought slips from your mind you feel your heart stop, the idea of loving someone so new—who didn’t have any intention of seeing this through, nor did you. You try to batter it down to the intimacy you’ve shared, that Joel was just a likable guy underneath all the disdain and grumpiness. People loved him and that didn’t have to be a huge thing, still, it terrified you.

The restaurant he takes you to is small, but filled to the brim. Small families, older couples, all hammering away at their early morning breakfast while you and Joel ordered your own, feeling like this was a peek at what could’ve been.

Joel knows he can’t have you.

You’re younger, naive—life left to live that didn’t include him. You needed to make mistakes, follow the goals you had set for yourself and that ultimately, he would be the type of person to bog you down.

He rubs at your extended hand tenderly where it lays on the table and for a moment, you try to pretend this is something real and not a fantasy you were both allowing to play out.

Christmas is something else entirely.

Joel had stayed up into the late hours the night prior, something you couldn’t be bothered to take part in, hearing him sneak into the room well past midnight. He didn’t sleep well often, noticing how often he woke up in the middle of the night and walked the halls, paced, thinking about whatever was ailing his mind. You’d count the footsteps and wait, playing asleep when he’d crawl back into bed and wrap himself around you.

He’s sprawled out on his back this morning, face buried into the crook of his elbow that was slung up high by his head, snoring softly. His other arm slung loosely against his chest, fingers curled into a soft fist.

You remember the brief respite you both had about situational opportunities—outright admitting to him that you were okay with him fucking you awake, which should’ve surprised him but it didn’t. It took him a while to admit it himself, but after a night wrapped in the sheets together he allowed himself to open up a little more freely.

“Are you into anything?” You ask softly, “Like, is there anything that just makes you go—oh, fuck yeah.” You mimic him lamely toward the end of your sentence and he laughs softly, shoving a gentle hand over your mouth.

“You tryin’ to make fun of me?” Joel asks playfully. “But, no—I don’t know. I guess I like things…a little rough. Maybe that’s more one-sided—”

You coyly shake your head, the edges of a smile framing the corners of your mouth.

“Alright,” Joel notes, “Uh, that thing you said about,” Joel clears his throat once, “fuckin’ you awake, don’t think I’d mind that either.”

“Joel.” You gasp scandalously, soft and quiet.

Which lends to the position you’re in now, slowly moving the blanket down his thighs and revealing his tanned skin, left in a worn out black shirt and a matching pair of briefs that held snug to his body, soft cock lending a beautiful outline in the cotton material.

You sneak between his legs quietly, one leg hiked up slightly as he stretched out, unbeknownst to your lingering presence as you press your mouth against the outline of his cock, fingers running teasingly over the waistband as he stirs slightly, still deep in a heavy slumber. He hums a soft noise and turns his head away.

Feeling the warm heat of his skin through the fabric, you crave a real touch. The heady smell of him, mixed with his fresh body wash and remnants of cologne from his jeans just a few feet away. It’s addicting, intoxicating, driving you to near madness.

You slowly pull his underwear down, far enough that you can settle the waistband underneath his balls, a soft and light touch as you trail your fingertips over his shaft, exploring carefully, watching for any signs that he might wake up soon.

He doesn’t move an inch.

But, you know it won’t take much.

You give a few slow, experimental tugs before slotting your mouth over the side of his cock, tongue dragging a long line down his shaft and fitting himself in your mouth, repeating the process a few times before you start to feel him harden underneath your tongue, smirking at how quickly things go from calm to feverish.

“Jesus,” Joel murmurs from above, his hand finding your head and cradling the back of it, urging you to keep going, holding him as deep as you can until you feel the burn and gag, eyes watering at the sensation, “fuckin’ Merry Christmas to me, huh?”

You snort softly, allowing yourself to settle more comfortable as he slowly awoke, rubbing his palms into his eyes and blinking away the blurry morning haze, groaning lowly when you take him just a little too deep, the tip of your nose nudging the base of his groin, the stubble tickling your nose.

You could do this for hours, really—solely to hear the quiet and muffled reactions Joel tried to keep to himself, slowly losing his grip on reality as you pick up your pace, hand covering what your mouth couldn’t reach when you intensify the pace, dragging your tongue around the tip of his cock until he shutters underneath you, using the grip on your head to hurry up your pace, knowing he was already near the edge and allowing you the courtesy of a warning when he did feel the urge to come, but he’s tapping your chin and you’re not moving.

“Baby, I—” Joel doesn’t get another word out before you double-down, eyes flicking up to look at him while he falls apart, eyes nearly rolling back at the intensity of heat he feels as he comes down your throat, allowing you eagerly swallow every last drop, pulling off with a soft pop, grinning at him salaciously.

You hum softly, climbing over his lap until your noses touch, staring into his wide eyes with an unrestrained adoration for one another.

“Good morning,” You say quietly, “sleep well?”

“Got a few hours in,” Joel admits, “I’ll manage. Nothin’ a few cups of coffee can’t fix.”

“Uh huh.” You mock playfully, moving slightly so Joel can readjust his underwear.

“I gotta take care of somethin’ first, though.” Joel tells you, rising up slightly, his touching prickling your thigh, “If you don’t mind?”

“Wha—Oh!” Joel flips you onto your back without much resistance, gaining the upper hand with the surprise of his movements, tugging at your bottoms with his eyes trained on your expression, grinning with a giddiness that was only reserved for him.

Joel doesn’t give you time to adjust either, bottom half free of all clothing—he gets his palms under your thighs and pushes them up, nearly folding you in half as he dives into your pussy, mouth wasting no time to latch onto your clit, the glorious dig of his nose as he licks a long stripe down the seam of your cunt, ravishing after last bit you had to offer, not sparing any expense.

You’re white-knuckling the sheets before you feel Joel reaching blindly for your hand, moving it into his hair and silently asking—begging—you to take hold and use him to fulfill your own selfish needs. You card your fingers through soft curls, the slightly aged brown that was sprinkled with grays and you tugged, guiding his face against your cunt greedily. He sucks on your folds briefly, oversensitive now with how turned on you were, clit swelling underneath his tongue.

“Jo—Joel,” You gasp, “fuck, that’s—right there—”

“Yeah?” He says, muffled against your cunt, the vibration of his bravado doing nothing to ease the urge to come, quickly creeping up on you with how intense he’s set the pace, determined to get you off in record time, speaking in spurts as he dipped his tongue inside of you, fingers squeezing at your thighs when he feels your hole flutter around his tongue, so close to coming you might cry, “Shoulda’—been doin’ this the whole fuckin’ time. Never would’ve let you leave—leave this goddamn bed.”

“Oh–fuckfuck,” You stammer, legs shaking as you feel yourself tip over, coming with a loud sob, tears brimming your eyes from how forceful you feel it, Joel not stopping even when you’re well-past finished, “Joel—Joel, please—”

“Gotta clean you up, baby.” He murmurs against your cunt, the soft sting of his stubble as it burns your inner thighs but keeps you conscious, otherwise you would’ve given up right then and crawled back into bed—screw Christmas, this was better. Joel would’ve stayed in bed all day if you asked. But, he’s pulling back eventually, nurturing the achy muscles in your hips with a tender rub of his fingers, mumbling a quiet apology.

You smile softly, allowing him to pull you upwards, tossing your clothes in the direction of your lap, trying to desperately to calm your rapidly beating heart and how nonchalant this man was acting after he’d had you bent in half and coming within just a few minutes.

“You stay put,” Joel orders, “I’ll be right back.”

….Okay. You slip your bottoms back on, sitting comfortably on the bed, legs tucked to the side and your fingers pulling at a lose thread in the stitching, hearing his descending footsteps going to god knows where—but there’s only a few seconds before he’s returning, something small tucked behind his back.

“Joel,” You scold, “What the hell did you do?”

He had that smug look on his face, walking toward you slowly.

“Close your eyes,” He tells you and you do so, feeling the dip of his weight as he sat on the mattress a few moments later, “Alright, open ‘em.”

You open them slowly, peeking through one eye at first before braving another, eyes searching his face before the flick down to the small figurine in his hands—a wolf carved out of wood, nothing too intricately detailed but the shape and idea was there.

This motherfucker.

You look up at him, brow furrowed in anger. Not specifically at him, but that he was trying to surprise you with something when you had nothing to offer in return—deadset on the idea that something like this was too personal, too connected. If he gave you this, it was something you would keep with you forever, a constant reminder of him.

You weren’t sure you could handle that. Still, you noticed the worry in his face, the lines in his forehead creasing as he noticed your distaste before it quickly fades.

“Joel,” You sound sad, pinched as you look over at him, hands cupping his own as you take the figurine from his hands, “—it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Joel knows it’s genuine, watching your bottom lip pull between your teeth as you nibble at the flash lightly.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Joel asks, trying not to seem offended.

He wanted to do something nice. Anything.

He didn’t know how to thank you, feeling like anything he could say would pale in comparison to such actions as gift giving or gratuitous morning oral.

“I just—I didn’t…get you anything.” You tell him, rubbing a thumb over the wolf’s head and wooden snout—it was around the size of your palm, a perfect fit if you held it outstretched. You already had a place in mind of where you would keep it.

“I didn’ expect you to, darlin’.” Joel assures you, “I needed somethin’ to distract me last night so I made it. You ain’t gotta keep it. If it’s too much.”

“No, no—” You swiftly assure him, clutching it to your chest.

It was in your possession now. It was yours to keep.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Joel seems fidgety, rubbing the thumb on his opposite hand over his knuckles, wringing his fingers together nervously.

“Not that there’s an obligation,” You remind him, “but yeah, of course.”

“I’m just—real glad this happened,” Joel admits, staring down at the duvet intently, avoiding your gaze. You touch his palm, slowing his nerves down to a dullness that he could barely feel, “I thought you might like it, but I really don’t expect nothin’ in return.”

He was used to it, but that wasn’t the point.

You squeeze his hand before pulling him into a gentle hug, giggling softly as he slings your legs off to the side over his lap so he can hug you fully, burying his face into your neck and inhaling slowly, a gentle rock back and forth as you both enjoy the silence.

“I came out here to be alone—I know you did too.”

You nod, fingers running gently along the tip of his spine, right into the beginnings of the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling back to look at him.

“I’m glad you were here,” You tell him, “No matter how much we wanted to murder each other that first night.”

Joel snorts at the fading memory, “Shoulda known then how much troubled you be.”

“Oh, so much trouble, Joel.” You counter, “You have no idea.”

And he wants to.

You both share a simple, chaste kiss that doesn’t linger. A solid thank you.

Thank you for being here. Thank your being you. Thank your for sharing this space.

Thank you for saving me.

Much of the day is spent tucked under Joel, watching a melody of Christmas movies he bought when he went to town a few days prior—old classics and new, fresh snow pelting the front windows and two steaming mugs in hand.

Joel opted for coffee, of course. You, a sweet hot cocoa loaded with mini marshmallows and cinnamon. Joel couldn’t help but grimace with every handful you topped on.

But, he also said something that had stuck with you well into the day.

“We’ve already been over this,” You scold him, “stop judging me.”

“You and Sarah would get on real well,” He says around the edge of his mug, “—that sugar intake is ridiculous.”

It stalls you for a moment, brain short-circuiting at the mention. Really, it shouldn’t matter. It was a simple statement that meant nothing and Joel, to your surprise, doesn’t even seem phased. Which—it’s a good sign. But, it still stings.

You wish attachments didn’t eat away at your mind, body, and soul. But, they did.

And you were so fucking attached to Joel it could kill you.

You force on a smile, stirring the hot cocoa with a spoon.

“Says the guy who drinks like twelve cups of coffee a day.” You argue, “A day.”

And Joel’s tendency of touch has only worsened as your time together waned, feeling and knowing that you would slip through his fingers—he’s holding onto this for as long as he can, knowing that once you both go your separate ways, this would all be for naught.

It’s nearing night by the time you both crawl into bed, sun already set for the day and sky outside dark, quiet aside from the occasional creak of the house.

“Any plans when you get back to Austin?” You ask lightly, trying to cut through the silence.

Joel’s gaze was ever-present, eyes examining you carefully.

“Just workin’,” Joel answers simply, “Nothin’ different than usual.”

You want to ask him to visit you, to spend time with you when you get back to Austin. But, you bite your tongue—afraid that whatever you’ve created her would crumble on the outside, the safety bubble of this sanctuary keeping you both together.

Joel asks instead—maybe not outright, but you can see the look in his eyes. Hopeful, for once. He quickly covers his tracks with, “I’m not sayin’ it’s a good idea, but if we run into each other it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

But, knowing him—he’d have to explain that at some point. He could lie, that was always an option. Though, it didn’t seem like Joel was all that good at it.

‘I don’t think so either, but—”

Joel nods, reserved, “I get it, darlin’. I’m just sayin’, if I run into you ‘m not sure I could just ignore you.”

“And I’m not sayin’ I want you to—“ You sigh softly, attempting to mince your words so they don’t come out wrong or harsh, rather just indifferent, “but this,” your fingers wags vaguely between you both, “I think you and I know that it wouldn’t go over well outside of here.”

Public perception, the major differences in your stages of life, different experiences—it felt impossible. Not to mention, there was so much about Joel you didn’t know and it was scary.

You trusted him deeply, but only with what he’s willing to share and vice versa.

This is all like a fever dream—a few more days and you’d be thrusted back into your normal life at the bookstore six days a week, living your dreary life out minute by minute.

“Then let me have you here,” Joel says lowly, tone lingering with a softness, his hand cupping you cunt hesitantly, waiting for your cue, “while I still can.”

You nod earnestly, chewing at your bottom lip as you lifted your leg over his, attempting to curl your body around him, pulling him closer and in turn wrap him around you, both of you so intertwined you weren’t sure where either of you started or ended. You blink away the slightest sting of tears and kiss him, so hard he makes a muffled mmph sound at the pressure, but reciprocates it all the same.

He soon forgets moving things along quickly, deciding that this would be the time he could really allow himself to revel in it, pick you apart and put you back together again and give you all the attention you were yearning for in the moment. His hands slide around your cheeks, cradling your face gingerly as he kisses you back, slowly shifting until you’re under him and he’s got his thighs wedged under your legs, essentially barricading you beneath him, fleeting presses of his lips to your cheek, collarbone, down your chest and back up again, returning the action to him when he wasn’t so dead set on leaving you breathless, tongue licking into your mouth and your teeth clashing briefly as you both dove in a little too eagerly.

Your hands fist into his shirt as they trail down his chest, pulling and rising until he gets the idea and slips the fabric over his head, palms flatting against his skin, blunt fingernails against his skin as you sigh into his mouth, his thumbs rubbing the memory of his fingerprints into your cheekbones with how tenderly he’s holding you, stopping briefly to rest his forehead against your own.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, though the words are deafening within the space, breaking the silence that had fallen over. “Joel—”

“Yeah—” He answers eventually, pulling away briefly to examine your face. You slowly allow your hands to find his face, fingers rubbing along his jaw, the scratchiness of his grown out facial hair and the way he swallows tensely under your touch, shrinking from your admiring gaze, “I’m okay.”

This feels like more than what this cabin can handle.

Maybe not love, but there was a line and it was being blurred. And if one of you hasn’t crossed it, this would be the moment.

You nod slowly, pulling at his wrist gently to guide it down abdomen and toward your underwear, his fingers rubbing gently over your cunt for a brief moment before you speak, “Then touch me—and stop thinking, please?”

Joel shuts his mind off and allows his heart and body to take hold, nodding slightly as he applies pressure, fingers rubbing into the growing wet spot between your legs, eyes locked on your face as you expression grows faint, eyes falling closed at his touch.

“Hey, hey—” Joel calls out softly, “keep those eyes on me.”

You laugh airly, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as Joel slips his fingers beyond the fabric, aiding in the pull of fabric down your legs, disappearing somewhere under the sheets.

“You mind if I—” Joel nods toward where his fingers are leisurely working away, fingers running playfully along the seam of your cunt.

“You’re really fucking asking me that?” You respond, exasperated at him dragging things out, though he knows the response holds no anger or frustration.

His chuckle is enough of a sign that he finds it entertaining how worked up you already were, descending the bed as he shoved the sheets away, spreading himself out comfortably between your legs as he moved them over his shoulders, your hands gripping the sheets were pried away and intertwined with Joel’s own fingers—it feels so wholly intimate you want to melt away, but the thought is interrupted as his tongue dips inside of you, hole fluttering at the touch.

“Hu-Oh—” You sigh shakily, squeezing his hands as he laps at your pussy, tongue flattening out as flicks at your clit, sucking gently before swiftly guiding your hands into his air, ultimately deciding that this pace was far too torturous for not just you, but himself. “Jo—Joel—”

“Shhh, baby,” He soothes you, gripping the underside of your thighs like he has before, but only lifting them up enough to allow him some actual leverage, asserting himself as buried his face into your cunt and directed all his focus on your aching clit, his eyes locked on your own all the while. Your mouth drops open in a desperate whine, yanking firmly at his hair and causing Joel’s eyes to roll back slightly.

And you wish you could say you held out, that it didn’t take some expertised flicks of his tongue and his suckling at your clit to have you gushing against his mouth, coming with a moan that rips from your throat unexpectedly, leaving you both breathless as Joel pulls away.

If you both had any patience you’d allow a moment to speak, let the moment of reprieve flow in and break the obvious tension, unspoken and wading just below the surface.

Instead, Joel’s restraint breaks free.

He shoves his underwear down his hips and you could’ve swore they disappeared into thin air before Joel is slotting himself between your legs, sliding into with one fluid push of his hips as he leans over you, moaning into each other’s skin as you wrap around one another again.

The intimacy is overwhelming. But, in the way that it makes your entire body go hot, blocking out everything but Joel and the soft grunts of pleasure he was attempting to keep at bay.

Strangers didn’t love like this.

But, you weren’t strangers anymore.

“Joel, hey,” Your voice is featherlight and sweet, rubbing at the back of his head as he pulls back, lips in a defined pout as he look at you, fucking into you at a pace that is agonizingly slow but necessary, “I like hearing you—no holding back, okay?”

It does Joel in completely, his arms scooping up behind your shoulder blades to haul you into his lap, a brief moment of tangled limbs as you adjusted yourself while he leaned back, calves tucked underneath him but his legs splayed wide enough that you sat comfortably, your hand guiding his cock to slip back inside of you with ease, your bodies connected at every possible point.

“Fuck—baby,” He swears, his mouth pressed into the point where your neck meets your jaw, aiding the slowly increasing rock and bounce of your hips, “like that–gonna need you to give me ‘nother one, alright?”

Baby, baby, baby.

You were addicted to the way it sounds falling from his lips—how he means it.

You nod, though blindly, eyes squeezed shut as you don’t feel far off from another orgasm, so wholly turned on that it seemed impossible.

Joel had a way with you, like years of exploring and learning and knowing all wrapped into a few weeks—this stuff was kismet, meant to be. It had to be that way. There was no other explanation for it.

“Answer me.” Joel urges, sounding more composed but still strained.

“Yes—yes,” You answer without hesitation, “I’ll try.”

Joel laughs softly, nipping at your jawline, pistoning his hips at a speed that had your arms gripping him tighter, “Hmm—no try, darlin’. You will.”

You squeal as Joel quickly switches positions again, laying out on your back while he settled between your legs in the same position, hooking your knees over his hips as he guided himself into you seamlessly, guiding your hand toward your cunt wordlessly.

Oh—he wanted you to come with him.

And he wanted to enjoy watching you–he does, while you did it and came apart around him, cunt tightening around his cock so snug it pulled the air out of his chest, your fingers working tirelessly over your clit, moaning loud and drawn out.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby—” He grunts, if the soft squelch was any indication. In any other situation you were sure you’d be mortified at such a callout, but Joel manages to ignite that fire in your core, squeezing down on him with his words, “Yeah—like how good I make you feel?”

You nod wordlessly, but Joel doesn’t accept that.

You can see he’s almost there, his hips faltering slightly as his brow pinched together.

“So fuckin’ good, Joel.” You tell him, “No fuckin’ idea how good you make me feel.”

Joel pulls out swiftly, jerking himself with a stroke before he’s coming over your bare cunt, nearly allowing himself a slip-up with how lost in his mind he was. He collapses on you immediately after, uncaring as your bodies mix with his cum, cradling Joel in your arms as much as he allows, your breaths melding together after time.

This was different.

Joel carefully cleans you up when he finds the energy to move before allowing you to take a quick shower, a pair of his own spare pajamas waiting on the bed for you as you switch turns, him disappearing into the bathroom as the door clicks shut.

When he returns, you curl against each other instinctively. There were no words to be shared, no looks to be stolen, but a silence you both found comforting.

You were going to miss Joel and it felt terrible.

But, Joel was going to miss you and that devastated him.

You fall asleep long before Joel, who sits up thinking off all the reasons he wouldn’t have to let you go, knowing you were already slipping through his fingers.

The rest of your vacation is bittersweet, a few days of cleaning and tidying up the place, but also of endless talks—attempting to absorb as much about each other as possible.

“Bullshit,” You retorted, finger pressed against his chest as you sat beside him on the couch, body halfway turned toward him, “you cannot play guitar.”

“I can, I have,” Joel says matter-of-factly, “You know—I was your age a time ago.”

“I want proof.” You challenge.

“You’re gonna have to take my word, darlin’.” He tells you. “Had a band and everything. We recorded some songs, but they never saw the light of day.”

“No fucking way.”

Joel rolls his eyes, pressing his lips to yours in a desperation to shut you up.

It works.

But, the final night is what has you both clinging to each other with no urgency to let go.

Hours upon hours of mindless conversation, too scared to allow the other to fall asleep in fear that you’ll wake up and you’ll have to face the reality of the next morning.

You were leaving, Joel was leaving.

Separate ways, both of you.

And you can’t remember which one of you caves first, but it isn’t without fight.

Joel packs with a quiet finality, helping you lug your bags into his old truck too. He seems troubled, distant, worried about you and far, far more.

You want to comfort him, but you fear it will only worsen things.

Joel promised to drive you back into town after enough deliberation, unwilling to let you go just yet and stretching out the time he had with you—driving you far enough that you could order car service to get you to your apartment in Austin, just inside the city and away from the suburbs.

But, the brief moment you have before he leaves you is something that engraves itself into your mind, lingers for long, long after you leave him.

Joel kisses you fully, tenderly—well beyond anything without meaning. He’s kissing you with everything he has to offer, feeling like you might lift off your feet at how full of love it makes you feel, gripping his wrist to hold him near as he cradles your face.

“Can’t let you go.” He says quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it

“Hey,” You lean into his eyesight, pulling his gaze to your face, “It’s okay.”

He doesn’t understand how you seem so calm, despite how broken you feel inside.

But, you do know one thing—as someone who spent an entire holiday with a complete stranger who you didn’t just come to befriend but to care about—that anything was possible.

“If it’s meant to happen, we’ll find each other again.” You tell him, eyes full of hope.

Joel laughs softly, though bitterly. He pulls you into a tight hug and sways, soaking in the final moments of you and how you feel, the soft hitch of your breath as he squeezes you gently, giggling in his ear.

“Gonna miss the hell out of you.” He admits.

“Me too, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “Seriously.”

Joel wasn’t sure how he could recover from something like this, but he would try. He’d push it down deep and go on about life, forget all the good and drown in the awful, like he usually did.

“I’m gonna get your money back,” He jokes weakly, “for the cabin—just give me a few weeks.”

“Joel, it’s okay.” You tell him through a subtle blinking of tears, but Joel notices, wiping them away silently as you pull back to look at him. “Best fuckin’ money I’ve ever spent.”

“God, how are you real?”

You hum softly, “Well, maybe I’m not. Maybe you did just imagine me up.”

“For my sanity, I hope to god you’re real, darlin’.”

It’s a lame joke, but Joel feels the need to reiterate it.

The car pulls up shortly after, allowing you to give him one last nearly suffocating hug before he finally lets you go, despite how badly he wanted to hold on.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

“I’ll be seein’ you, darlin’.”

Maybe he only meant it as a hopeful utterance into existence, that if putting it out there it would somehow come true. But, Joel knew it to be true. This wouldn’t be the last time and he felt that to his core, watching your bittersweet wave as you climbed into the car, bags all packed in the trunk courtesy of the driver.

You had hope too.

And only time would tell.

(Guys, there's an epilogue (coming December 30th). Please don't yell at me lol. I promise this isn't going to end on a horrible note and you won't want to hunt me down)

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing #MMITW

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imarvelatstars · 3 months ago

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Meet Me At Our Spot

Pairing: Master Sol x gn!Reader

Prompt: bakery date

Word Count: 758

[ao3 link]

You incline your head politely in Sol’s direction. “Master.”

“Knight,” he replies, returning the gesture with the same lighthearted air.

“What a surprise meeting you here.”

His eyes flicker across your face for a moment, his expression shifting just slightly with the softness of his affection. “Indeed.” The muffled ambience of the bakery lingers in the space between you – it’s mostly half whispered discussions and muted laughter and the chime of the register because all you can really hear is the beat of your own heart and the rush of blood in your ears. “A surprise, my dear, but a pleasant one. I hope…”

Sol hesitates, long enough for his face to flood with uncertainty, and you don’t press him for more. You know he’s nervous. You’re nervous too. Rather than placate him with words, you reach out with the Force and brush against his conscious mind with a voiceless murmur. It’s alright. It’s just us.

He raises a brow. It’s a look that says everything he’d said last night, every anxiety and every uncertainty translated into an assemblage of expressions that only you can interpret.

You reach out again. All they see are a couple of strange Jedi. They won’t pay us any attention.

That is, after all, his greatest fear and understandably so. He has more to lose if his attachments surface within the Order. He could lose his Padawan, his title, and everything else he’s worked so hard to achieve these last few years. At worst, you think you might be prompted into guided meditation with a Council member to ensure you aren’t starting down a dangerous path.

But such are the risks of love in the world of the Jedi.

“I hope you are well.”

Your eyes meet Sol’s and you feel as if your heart is going to burst. “I’m better now that I’m with you.”

This time, he laughs. It’s the most wonderful sound in the world. No matter where you are or who you’re with, if you catch even a glimpse of Sol’s smile or happen to hear the low and gentle rumblings of his amusement, it immediately brightens your day. It’s just a shame that you’re in public right now or else you’d kiss him breathless for it.

“You’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “Is it working?”

Dark eyes glitter in the fluorescent light of this tiny Coruscanti bakery, jam-packed with civilian regulars and intergalactic tourists, and you think you love him more now in this manufactured normalcy than you ever have before. “A little too well, I think.”

After ordering you manage to snag an empty barstool in the back corner of the building, sandwiched in between a startlingly large Nikto biker and the wall. Ever the gentleman, Sol places himself between you and the rest of the world, and you swear it’s like falling into your own little world. Here you can pretend that you’re just another citizen of the galaxy on a normal date with your even more normal lover. You’re not hiding from the rules of your own society here. No, you’re too lost in Sol’s eyes to be afraid of anything at all, not even losing him.

The Nikto behind him jostles with laughter and Sol very nearly collapses on top of you. He stops himself with a hand braced against the table, and his caf sloshes over the rim of his paper cup onto your robes, and you don’t give a damn. How could you when he’s looking at you like that? Like you’re everything to him?

“This is…” He can’t even find the words to finish the thought.

“Perfect,” you answer for him.

You know it’s not what he wants for you. If Sol is anything, it’s a romantic, and that’s just another addition to a long list of reasons why you love him. But it’s because this bakery is so imperfect, so crowded and noisy and maybe a little dingy, that you find yourself enamored with it. It’s that little bit of normal you can never have in the Temple. Your own little slice of “could-be” that you’ll only ever share with him.

The clientele are noisy enough, in fact, that no one can hear you say you love him. No one but him. His eyes immediately mist over and, well, if he kisses you in the corner of that too-tiny bakery on the 5,000th level of the most crowded planet in the galaxy, then you two are the only Jedi who will ever know about it.

#master sol x reader #master sol #x reader #star wars #sol patrol #page divider by saradika-graphics

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drainslo · 11 months ago

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Brains & Brawn- Chapter 7: Kiss

You woke up that morning half expecting Chishiya to be gone. No nightmares again you noted gratefully. The bed he slept in was neatly folded, but the sound of the running faucet in the bathroom made you realize he was still there.

You wrapped one of the thinner bed sheets around yourself and ambled to glance at the bathroom door. It was cracked halfway open and you could now see Chishiya fervently scrubbing his teeth with one of the Beach’s toothbrushes.

Upon seeing you, he attempted a form of acknowledgement but he couldn’t execute it successfully with the toothbrush still in his mouth. You burst out laughing and entered the bathroom to wait for him to be finished so you could brush your teeth.

Chishiya’s expression was unreadable, and after he finished swishing water in his mouth he left the faucet running. You stood up to use the sink, but not before Chishiya flicked water at you.

“The fuck?” You said abrasively as you blinked away the droplets. You weren’t sure if the act of splashing water towards you, or the fact it was Chishiya doing it was more surprising.

Chishiya softly chuckled and attempted to maneuver around you so he could leave the room. You did not plan on letting him leave without seeking vengeance. You cupped your hands to fill them with the water from the still-running sink, and reached up to dump it on his head.

You began to laugh again, pleased by your ill-earned revenge as Chishiya’s back was turned. He whipped around and you backed away from him, expecting another water assault. However, Chishiya simply followed you until your back was against the wall.

Chishiya was short compared to Kuina, but he was still taller than you. And he felt much taller as he cornered you in the shared bathroom.

Your breath caught as he inclined his head towards you. You didn’t feel like he was going to hurt you somehow.

You were sorely wrong.

You were so focused on him that you only noticed he held a plastic cup full of water behind his back when he dumped its contents on your head.

“I think I win,” he said coolly, and turned to leave.

“Fuck you,” you shouted to his back but he didn’t respond. The water dripping down your face reminded you of Chishiya’s true nature. Chishiya was as playful as a lion who had caught a mouse that it didn’t want to kill.

You slammed the door so you could shower, and continued to pout as the water trickled down your body. Chishiya was at least more than one step ahead of you with any game you played. You were glad at the very least he was civil with you.

You would’ve hated to be his enemy.

You finished showering, and changed into one of the swimsuits that you had left hanging in the bathroom. It was plain white with lace frills that stylishly embellishes the ties of the bikini, heavily contrasting with the black gun you kept by your side.

Chishiya was standing outside on the balcony, looking over the rest of the Beach. It was early morning so the noise wasn’t as loud as it was at night, but you could still hear the faint chatter of people from inside.

You joined him and watched him contemplatively as he continued his observations in silence. The wind blew a strand of his silvery hair across his face, and you wished to brush it away.

“Isn’t all of it so futile?” Chishiya broke the silence, nodding towards a couple who were passionately making out. “He looks like he’ll die in his next game,” he snorted in amusement.

“I think it’s nice to have a distraction. People have different ways of coping in tough times,” you replied as the man began to push closer to his girlfriend. “Maybe it’s even love,” you grinned wryly.

“A distraction,” Chishiya hummed thoughtfully. “Do you think she has accounted for the possibility of him dying?”

You glanced towards the couple again, who now were getting quite intimate. “Gosh, Chishiya. Do you think about things like this all the time? How morbid. You know, you can do things without thinking about it.”

Chishiya paused for a brief moment before finally brushing the silver strand out of his eyes. “I prefer to avoid unpleasant outcomes.”

You slightly winced at the reminder of your own unpleasant outcome. “But you know,” Chishiya continued to your surprise. “You were rather impressive during that spades game. For a spades player, the way you got to the safe zone was ingenious.”

You smiled at the compliment. “I was honestly afraid that I’d get tagged and we would all die,” you confessed.

“So what?” You looked back to Chishiya in confusion as he leaned rather dangerously over the edge of the balcony. “We’re all going to die eventually.”

You laughed nervously and thought that he looked like he might jump over the edge if you weren’t there. “I wouldn’t enjoy dying, that's for sure, and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for all of your deaths either.”

“You wouldn’t have to live with the responsibility,” Chishiya said drolly, which drew another laugh from you.

“I guess I wouldn’t,” you smiled at Chishiya who gave you a faint grin to your surprise. You both fell back into silence. You looked through the crowds of the Beach players, and found that the couple you were discussing was gone. Chishiya did have a point; It would be awful if the person you cared about died.

You wondered how you would feel if Chishiya died. You felt affectionate towards him, but you hesitated to call it love. If he died, you would keep your executive position at least, and would go back to being alone in your room.

“I have to go,” Chishiya said suddenly and disappeared without further notice from the balcony. You stayed there on the balcony longer for no particular reason. You sometimes in the past liked to look out at the Beach, but you eventually became lonely seeing all of the couples. Chishiya’s absence reminded you of that familiar feeling of emptiness.

It was different though, because even if you weren't with anyone you weren’t exactly alone anymore.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kuina!” you smiled as you saw her leaning against the column while smoking. You were looking for her for another round of sparring. Your smile slightly wavered as you saw her talking to Chishiya rather intensely. He was speaking in hushed whispers to her and you couldn’t hear anything they said.

A flicker of jealousy fought to rise in your chest as you drew closer while observing them. You never saw Chishiya so friendly with anyone. You also recalled that Chishiya had shared your room-sharing situation with Kuina much earlier on.

“(Name)! Hiya!” Kuina gushed when you stood next to her. Chishiya gave a short wave as a greeting which you returned with one of your own.

“You up for sparring?” You asked Kuina nervously. She bobbed her head in agreement and started walking towards your sparring room.

“Sorry for stealing your girl,” she winked as an apology to Chishiya.

Chishiya rolled his eyes in reply.

“Have fun with my girl,” he drily mocked the terminology Kuina used to describe your relationship.

You ignored their exchange and continued to trail behind Kuina when you both passed Niragi in the hallway. Niragi had his arm around a different woman this time, and he raised his hand to wave at you.

You laughed to Kuina, “It seems like I’m seeing everyone today.”

Kuina rather didn’t look amused. She was horror-stricken at the sight of Niragi and her eyes darted to Niragi then back to you in astonishment.

“You’re– friends? You’re friends with Niragi? That Niragi?” She stuttered and covered her mouth with both of her hands.

“Yes?” You were confused at Kuina’s reaction to Niragi. You knew Niragi could be a prick, you hung around him. but you never saw your association with him warrant that reaction. But you never discussed Niragi before with anyone other than Chishiya, who didn’t comment on it.

“Niragi is horrible. Sincerely god awful. Have you seen the way he acts– especially in games? He’s like a sadist. I played with him once and I think he enjoyed killing other people,” Kuina said in a hushed tone as she watched Niragi turn the corner down the hall.

“Niragi?” You questioned doubtfully. From your last exchange, Niragi had made you feel unsettled but you didn’t think it was too this extent. You realized that he hadn’t played any games with Niragi since the six of spades either. Hopefully the Borderlands hadn’t turned him into a monster like other players you’d seen.

“Yes, Niragi! Seriously you should see how he plays games–Oh look, we’re here,” Kuina interrupted herself as you arrived into the room.

Kuina walked towards the middle of the room, and assumed her fighting stance. She made direct eye contact with you and spoke. “You know, I always feel like you’re holding back when we spar. It's a little weird. You’re not bad, but it’s like you’re deliberately altering your technique to minimize how hard you hit me.”

You froze in the entryway of the room and gripped the side of the door. You hadn’t expected Kuina to notice.

She smiled at you, and gestured for you to come in. “Come on, don’t be afraid! I understand, I have a similar problem but try at least.”

You walked to stand across from her, and tried to change the way you fought. But you still wanted to avoid hurting your friend, and to Kuina’s disappointment she ended up triumphing over you once more.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You became more comfortable with Chishiya leading up to your shooting session on Tuesday. In the evenings, when you drank, you sometimes could convince him to drink with you. More frequently than not, he heavily sighed and took the poison you were offering him that night.

He elaborated on being a medical student, and you learned he was studying in a hospital that wasn’t so far away from the Beach. However, when you inquired about his family, he frequently brushed you off or changed the topic.

“It’s not significant,” Chishiya would say. You thought his parents would be significant, but the only thing he told you was that his father was also in the medical field. Eventually, you got the vague impression that his relationship with his parents was virtually nonexistent, so you stopped pressing the matter.

You told Chishiya about your former life, and occasionally cried when reminiscing on the family and friends you lost when you came to the Borderlands. Chishiya always watched the tears roll down your cheeks without saying a word, observing your misery quietly.

Tuesday afternoon, you met with Chishiya at the shooting range. You were true to your word, and alerted him for the last week when the militants weren’t there so he could practice his shooting. You weren’t exactly surprised to see he made little to no progress in aim.

“Chishiya, why are you standing like that? Look, do this.” You altered your stance to be the proper one for pistol shooting, and watched as Chishiya mimicked you marginally successfully. You then noticed that his handle on the gun was generally plain wrong.

“Here, let me show you how to hold it properly like this. I don’t think you’re making any progress with that grip.” You gently pried Chishiya’s fingers off the gun and readjusted them. You overlapped your hand with his to show him how to take aim properly. He flinched slightly but reluctantly let you touch him.

“Alright, now lean like this,” you demonstrated and Chishiya mimicked your movement. “Exhale, aim, and pull the trigger. Don’t overthink it. Just look at the target and pull.” You removed your hand from his and watched as he hit the target in the center for the first time with his pistol.

“Hey! You did it–” you trailed off as you noticed Chishiya smiling while watching you instead of the target. You tilted your head to the side hesitantly as he gently lay the gun on the floor.

“Don’t overthink, right?” Chishiya said, approaching you closely.

“Right,” you said breathlessly, remembering all the times you had said the exact thing to him.

Chishiya placed one hand on the side of your face and leaned in towards you. He smelled like faded peppermint, and soap. You closed your eyes and you felt his lips touch yours. It was like heaven for a moment.

Then, you felt the pieces shatter and wrestled out of Chishiya’s light grip. “Hey! What would you do that for? I don’t understand.” You backed away from him confused. He had never indicated any interest in you.

This move was the most uncharacteristic thing you’d seen from him, and the impulsivity of it was like something you’d do. Except you didn’t, because you were sure that Chishiya didn’t care much about you.

“What is there to understand? ” Chishiya’s voice felt condescending, which made you slightly ticked off.

“Everything- no, I just don’t understand. I don’t.” You stepped further away from him as you recounted his earlier commentary on couples. You locked eyes with him, silently begging him to explain that he liked you. That he meant something by it.

But he didn’t.

Chishiya just blankly stared at you, not responding to anything you had said. He seemed to be thinking about something far away from you.

His hands were fidgeting with the gun as he watched you drift further and further away from him. You felt a pang of disappointment as the silence grew longer and longer.

“I’m sorry Chishiya,” you eventually said softly. “But I don’t think we should meet anymore. You can still use the practice grounds if you’d like.” You quietly sniffled as you left him standing alone in the shooting range.

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bridgetotheskyyy · 2 years ago

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godly hither

series masterlist

chapter summary: gojo has a fetish

chapter warnings: smut, 18+ content, fingering, pwp absolutely NO plot, gojo is a tease, gojo's also an ass

word count: i have no fucking idea i wrote this so long ago wait *checks ao3* 1.1k

a/n: very excited to share this series on tumblr as well I hope you all enjoy! based on this thirst post I made ages ago

read on ao3 here

��Go — Gojo!”

He couldn’t deny it; he had a certain preoccupation.

Gojo laughed as your spine arched at the command of his finger — his thumb feathered against your clit as his index teased the spongy space within you. You moaned at the touch and he rolled the universe that lived in his eyes, your leg brushing against his obvious erection as you squirmed.

“That’s right,” he said, his head falling back, relishing in the warm wet of your cunt, “squeeze me, love.”

He honestly enjoyed it more than fucking you. How victimized you became at the slightest touch. Despite how his cock strained against his boxers, begging to be buried inside of you. He retrained eyes on you, on your naked, shameless form, begging and whining — and all at the single, paltry touch of his fingers. He smirked, marveling at the sight. Gojo wagged his thumb on your clit, delighting in the way your hands went to cup your breasts in response, your legs imprisoning his wrist as they squeezed against them.

Gojo had done this for so long, tortured you so. He knew your end was near, knew he held your climax in his hands, so close he could hold it, fit it in his palm. He loved it. To have the power to make you cum, your release at his literal fingertips.

With a wicked grin, he knocked against your g-spot. Gojo laughed at the shuddered gasp you rewarded him with, his mirth carrying into the cold, quiet space that was the storage closet, dispersing into a series of echoes. You whined before clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the cry. Gojo licked his lips, an idea propelling him forward —

He offered his other hand to your mouth.

“Use this, darling,”

You happily took it, biting into his hand. He grunted at the feel of your teeth, his cock twitching, aching for release. He thrust his finger deeper. It was a simple, horrible tease of what could really feel you up, what you truly wanted. Your hips rocked into his other hand, growing impatient for your end, biting down on the one he offered with stuttered gasps. The boxes behind you squeaked against their cardboard, threatening to fall as a consequence of your rutting. Gojo felt his own heavy breathing, your midsection brushing endlessly against his erection.

He swooped down, moving his abused hand to inch closer to your lips, yet another part of you he owned, and licked them.

“Perfect,” he managed, meeting your eyes. He maintained composure for just a second, but only a second.

Gojo bucked against you. He lived for your agonized moan, descending into a whine. He allowed you to suppress your voice with his thumb before bucking into you again.

You trembled, mewled, and all at the curl of one tiny little finger.

Well, technically two — he remembered his thumb at your heat and pressed it into the tender, singing nub — but who was counting?

Oh, that’s right … he was.

The smirk that painted Gojo's face had to have been sickly; he would make you whine and mewl and beg for another one.

“Say it,” he bucked, almost as though he were truly fucking you. The boxes above slipped farther apart, farther forward, inclining for the floor.

“Please!” you shuddered, no patience for playing coy. “Please, gods, yes, Gojo — please, give me another! Another!”

You had played this game before and knew the rules. Victory.

Who was he to deny you?

He slipped a second finger in, then a third, the moist of your cunt sending saliva to his mouth.

“Yes —! Mmph! …” you hissed, because you wanted to scream and because you couldn’t scream.

Gojo forced two fingers into your disobedient mouth, muting your senseless appraisals as you squeezed your eyes shut.

So wonderful. It was he could to do to resist releasing into his boxers, fighting to keep his tongue from falling out of his mouth like a fucking dog as you hooked a leg around his waist, burying your face in his neck, clinging to him in such a delicious, damsel-like fashion. He maneuvered his other hand, wet with your saliva, to your ass to push you up, your arms around his neck as he fed you his fingers.

“Yes …” he said as his fingers thrusted, as you offered him your sweet honey. His fingers curled, pace torturously slow as he asked your climax to come forth and coat him with your sinful juices.

You moaned, squirmed in his embrace, and he could only want more. You were going to cum, cum, and it would be because of him. All because he commanded it —

He covered your mouth with his as your climax came, your insides clenching down on his eager fingers as they brought you to your end. Gojo was delirious with his own pleasure, his orgasm supplied by the endless rutting of his hips against yours. You would both be filthy and dripping in one another’s cum.

He couldn’t wait to lick your wet off his fingers, couldn’t wait to savor your taste, but he preferred to let you finish. Your orgasm sent your head lolling backward, pushing a box at its edge back against its brothers just in the nick of time.

He touched your orgasm from you. Once the final grasps of your insides waned along with your pleasure, he pulled his fingers away. He fed them to his mouth, one by one, licking off the cream as though it were frosting from a delectable pastry.

“Mm,” he sang.

You peaked an eye out to watch him, your gaze heavy-lidded. Your breath was shallow as he eased gently to the floor. He did not let go; your legs were weak from the play and he did not want you falling.

You were the one to push him away as he began to work on the second finger, sucking vigorously. You checked your clothes and grumbled, annoyed, at the wet spot circling your jeans.

“Mmmm,” he sang still, ignoring the mess he’d made on you. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” You said. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

You gestured to the stain at your jeans.

“Say you dropped your popsicle.”

“Popsicles don’t smell like this, Satoru. And you could’ve gotten us caught!”

“Wouldn’t that have just made it more fun?”

“Maybe for you.” You fought back, but your breath was still noticeably labored and it only made him feel triumphant. “Pervert …”

You passed him, aiming for the door.

Heh, you’re right, (Y/n).

He let you go, beginning on the third finger, licking off the orgasm he had won from you.

#gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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missamyrisa2 · 10 months ago

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15 questions for 15 friends:

Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~

Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~

When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~

Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle

Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~

What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.

What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint

Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~

Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.

Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.

What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.

Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer

How tall are you?: 6'2

Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.

Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.

Join in and pass it on if you can. Don't feel obligated!

@witchy-giggles @atomiccollectorwitch @crystalstarlight4657 @opossumgirltongue @adventuresofmelody @greenticklerdreams @juviisworld @dusktexanler @polsj103 @fuzzypilled @androgynousangeldreamland @daisylovestickles @yourgothgfswitch @magicaltickles @giggliestgirl

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vhagarlovebot · 2 years ago

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UNDER THE MOONLIGHT.

pairing: jake sully x omatikaya!fem!reader.

summary: jake has been acting weird and distant for several days now and you can’t stand it anymore. but when you decide to find out what’s going on, you see him with someone else and it’s definitely not what you were expecting.

warnings: avatar 1 jake. hurt/comfort. jealousy. first kiss and just pure fluff.

note: hi besties! here i am writing for some blue aliens as i said i was going to. if there are any mistakes i apologize but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

IT WAS LATE, way past eclipse, when you went looking for jake. you were a second away from giving the warning of his disappearance when you finally saw him getting lost in the forest with ninat.

he was laughing, unaware of the knife cutting through your chest at seeing them walking away from the clan for the third time in the week.

and it’s not like you haven’t asked him, curious to know what business does he have with her. it’s jake the one who hasn’t given you an answer, dismissing the topic altogether by just walking away.

this time, however, you decided to follow them.

you did not know what you were going to find but certainly them putting together a picnic wasn’t what you expected.

“this will help.” ninat says, taking out a flower from a basket and handing it to jake, who immediately smiles.

you feel like you’re watching something private but can’t seem to find the strength to walk away and leave them to it. a part of you believes that if you stay right there you will prevent something from happening.

you only look away when jake reaches for another flower in the basket, and places it behind ninat’s ear. only then, you decide it’s better if you go. you don’t want another reason to cry at night.

but eywa has other plans and just when you take a step to run out of there, a branch breaks giving away your location.

their conversation stops abruptly and you close your eyes praying they haven’t heard you.

jake laughs. “all right, come on out.”

you come out from your hiding place, feeling embarrassed, but jake doesn’t seems upset, he, as well as ninat, still has a smile dancing across his lips. the only difference is that ninat looks at you with a weird expression on her face. and when you turn your face to look at jake, she swiftly disappears.

“it wasn’t my intention—”

“well? do you like it?” he interrupts you, his cheeks a deep purple.

of course you like it. the night is your favorite time of the day because how pretty and breathtaking the forest looks. if you add a picnic, it’s simply just perfect.

but that doesn’t mean anything. it’s not for you.

"it's for you." he pulls you out of your thoughts, as if he could read your mind. "ninat— she helped me prepare it all week. i didn't know how to do it, i just... i wanted to have a night for just the two of us." he explains and you feel like the most stupid and lucky girl in all pandora.

jake takes your silence the wrong way, face falling a little. but you react before he begins to feel bad, jumping into his arms and wrapping them around his shoulders as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing slow and calm puffs.

jake’s surprised at your reaction, given that this is the first time you two share more than just soft hand touches, and it takes him a good couple of minutes to finally wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly against his body.

“i thought this was all for ninat.” you admit, softly playing with his hair as he still has you in his arms.

“silly girl.” he coos, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “don’t you see how i feel about you?”

you leave a kiss on his cheek before pulling away, but just enough so you can see him, and inclining your head to one side, feeling how the blood rushes to your face.

“now i see.”

“hey, listen,” he cups your face with his hands. “i’m sorry for being a skxawng but don’t you ever, not for a second, doubt my feelings for you.”

jake’s words make your heart skip a beat and feel something you thought was only in the stories the sky people told. the stories about how does it feel to be in love; how calm and right would it feel. that’s exactly what you feel right at this moment being in his arms, feeling his heartbeat, his breath against your cheek.

you can’t tell what he’s thinking but his next movements are enough to give you an idea. he looks at you with such intensity that your whole body trembles, his touch like fire.

“i’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?” jake whispers, thumbs caressing your face.

you can’t talk, barely breathing actually, and just nod, slowly closing your eyes when you see jake leaning is head and shortening the distance.

his lips are soft and fit perfectly against yours. both of you had been waiting months for this to happen and now that is finally happening, is sweet and soft. jake has one arm around your waist while his other hand is cradling your face, lips moving slowly, tasting every second of it.

when jake pulls away you chase after his lips, making him chuckle. but you don’t open your eyes right away, feeling dizzy and oh so happy.

jake grabs your hand and you force yourself to finally open your eyes, immediately seeing his pretty smile. he helps you sit down on a blanket he borrowed specially for tonight. he lays down taking you with him, and you rest your head on his chest, and your hand just above his heart.

you spend hours talking and seeing the stars, him telling you stories about his planet and you telling him about all the things you love about yours.

you end up falling asleep in his arms, dreaming of a human jake, subconsciously thanking eywa for bringing him to you.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#jake sully #avatar #jake sully x reader #jake sully fluff #jake sully angst #jake sully x you #jake sully imagine #atwow x reader #avatar 2009

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invinciblerodent · 22 days ago

Note

for the rook/partner game: 14. for marcus and bellara, 4. for verbena and davrin (I think you talked about it before but I cannot remember for the life of me) 1nnd 16. for emmrich and tristan?

Ahh, I love these, thank you for asking! ❤️

Question list here!

14. Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

Ooh, tough one! I think since neither of them have a lot (hey, neither crypt orphan turned glorified undertaker NOR underfunded Dalish historian who lives in a forest is a particularly well-paid profession), I want to say that... it's probably things like, experiences. Loaned books is for sure one, but I want to say that what they exchange most is just... time. Experiences. Small things that only prove that they're thinking of one another.

Like him taking her to skate the Minater and (unused to having money) buying them a bag of roasted chestnuts to share, or leaving a small bag of sweets on her desk. (Candied nuts, perhaps? Dry fruit? I get both the vibe that she likes those, and the feeling that if she were to mention at any point something like "oh, I LOVE honey-roasted almonds!", she'll get some honey-roasted almonds every time he sees some.) Or if she mentions once that it was nice the first time he made it, he'll be making her a cup of spiced tea when he makes one for himself in the evenings, and even if they had no plans, dropping it off for her on his way back to his room. A paper with one of her serials that he'll likely end up keeping, embarrassed, when he realizes that Neve had already bought it for her.

She in turn might blush her way through giving him the first chapter of her story to read. Eventually one of her many janglies (that's totally not a protection charm!) or a strip of fabric in her favorite color will perhaps find its way to the grip of his staff. Little things, sentimental things, ephemeral things that disappear like a shower of sparks in the air.

4. Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Ooh, I have spoken in passing about something of the like, yes!! Due to her backstory, I gave her an overall... shall we say, healthy wariness of the Warden order in general.

Since there are no (known?) Warden strongholds in Tevinter, I like to think that Ver's experience with them is restricted to the odd wandering recruiter, picking through the prisons and such in search of able bodies to bolster their ranks.

And, due to her work as both a Shadow Dragon and a guard/errand girl in a poor district of the city, Ver unfortunately also meets and gets to know a comparatively large number of people who are down on their luck, or don't have a lot of options- who, when the Wardens come knocking and ask for brave souls, are prime candidates for joining up with them. (It certainly sounds like it beats starting their lives over from scratch either as runaway slaves who will be hunted for the rest of their days, or, if they're lucky, as Liberati always glancing back over their shoulder and one bad month away from slipping back.)

Naturally, of those who leave with the recruiters, not many are ever seen again- whether they perish in the Joining or after, or if they just never get to return to the city, is unclear.

Her best friend (and sort of lover/QPR partner/previous fuckbuddy) Adris was also one of those escaped slaves who got arrested (taking the fall for her entirely), and in order to escape the gallows, left with a Warden instead. He never did end up coming back, and for years, Ver didn't know if he had even survived. (to her excuse, he was a skinny, pale elf boy. like she's pretty sure she could have snapped his femurs like a pair of toothpicks by sitting on his lap, if she was so inclined. even if she had known what the Joining entailed, she thought it was as much a death sentence for him as the gallows.)

(originally I liked leaving it kind of ambiguous whether he lived, but now I'm more of the mind that against all odds, he'd survive the Joining AND Weisshaupt, just to be there in Hossberg to Cause Emotional Turmoil, lol.)

Her mistrust of the Warden order was like, on a very average level for a Tevinter citizen, but the bulk of it comes from how the recruiter, when she demanded that they take her too, rejected her, and that old resentment kind of just fermented into prejudice over time. She's more or less convinced early on that all Wardens are pompous assholes riding high on the old glory of a few, with hero complexes the size of the Anderfels, and their heads so far up their asses that they could tie their small intestine into a bow with their tongue as a party trick.

Initially, the First Warden only reinforces that (even though she knows very well that she sounded a few elephants short of a proper circus when they met)(she had far more than enough clowns tho), but it will take Evka, and Antoine, and most importantly Davrin to dismantle that.

On the flipside, I don't really think Davrin has many Shadow Dragon specific comments or issues, I think he's just... quite aware that she's of Tevinter, and of the city, so he isn't, like, immediately eager to defer to her. He doesn't know her, so he has his doubts, and right away, puts a little mental asterisk beside the statement that she outranks him. But the leadership she shows right after his recruitment and at Weisshaupt will dispel pretty much any doubts about her.

The way it affects their relationship is, I think, not super obvious either, because, well, they are professionals. Davrin gives the barbed comments as good as he gets, plus they are immediately pretty impressed with each other, right from the Minrathous dragonfight on.

also they're both hot, and they both have eyes. that might also skew things slightly.

16. How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

Oh, I'm looking very much forward to that on that playthrough, because I think Tristan is going to be losing his absolute shit in there. (But in like his own stoic, determined way.)

I mean, he's no mage, furthest thing from it in fact, but he's been in the Fade in his dreams before. He's been there physically this whole time. He's got a bloody spirit hitching a ride in his mind, it shouldn't be that different from what he's used to.

But that particular space in the Fade, that place... it's just wrong in there. It's a purgatory. It's a void, it's oppressive, the stench of Solas' rage, and pride, and despair, and just sheer, immense power is all over it, and while he's trying to stay calm, it feels like Purpose within him is in an absolute blind panic. And, with the two of them being so seamlessly fused together, so integrated over the past.... jfc, 22 years, Purpose trying all it can to escape, pulling at his soul... it feels fucking horrible.

It's like his very concept of self is trying to tear itself apart, like his soul is separating into two at a seam that doesn't exist, like his legs want to cleave themselves from his body and he has only his hands to hold them there.

Pile all that happens in there, all the revelations and worries, on top of that, and Tristan is having an awful fucking time.

And he can't even punch/kick/stab the source of his agony! It really is his personal torture chamber in there.

Honestly, though I like to think that Tristan, due to his unique and inexorable connection to the Fade, feels that it's been less than a day in that pocket, and can think somewhat clearly still (unlike Ver, who I think falls victim to the time distortion effect, and loses track immediately- could have been hours or months as far as she's concerned), but still distantly, at the back of his mind, feels how those weeks that pass outside of it are dragging along, day after day.

I think Emmrich, while there was no way of knowing in advance how something as peculiar as Tristan and Purpose's union would react to something like that, had what he thought was a pretty good guess as to what would happen- and I don't think there's any way for him to not have been worried out of his mind.

I think in the regard of their separation, Tristan is probably less worried than Emmrich, considering that he at least has the luxury of knowing that whatever is happening outside, Emmrich has the chance of fighting back, while Emmrich doesn't even know if Tristan is physically capable of staying alive in there.

If being in a place like that had torn Tristan and Purpose apart, it would have killed him instantly, and Emmrich needing to place his utmost trust in the courage of a spirit that can barely communicate (certainly not in words, and certainly not with him), it's... kind of horrifying. Especially with a spirit as malleable and kind of vulnerable as Purpose.

I guess it's very lucky that they are so enmeshed, Tristan and Purpose, because them being one means that their drive for self-preservation is also shared. Without that, they wouldn't have made it out of there alive, I think.

#squirrel plays datv #oc: marcus ingellvar #oc: verbena mercar #oc: tristan thorne #bellara lutare #davrin #emmrich volkarin #did i ignore everything going on around me for an hour as i tried to come up with the precise way Purpose might handle the fade prison?#sure did #and i'll DO IT AGAIN #....also every time i think about him Marcus just gets cuter and cuter #someone stop this guy #he's too wholesome for a straight white guy #(every day i get a kick out of the knowledge that nobody really knows that he's NOT actually a cishet white guy)#(but a he/him nonbinary amab straight white person)#(his gender truly is “guy*” (*terms and conditions apply)”)

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outsidereveries · 4 months ago

Text

old asks from curiouscat (17th august 2024—22nd august 2024)

17th August 2024

is it okay to ask about heeseung's well-being?? i just saw a tweet saying he doesnt look well these days .. may i ask where he is mentally as well?

as i asked recently and he allegedly has insomnia (not sleeping well), i am updating as an exception.

the sun, the world, 5 of pentacles rx, the star, the hermit rx

he's feeling a lot better and has really slept better than .. the last weeks, for which i'm really glad. the energy feels warm and it's like he's saying to me that he's really feeling better and he feels thankful that i listened to him?? this is so odd to me, i'm crying from joy?? (i'm serious, i appreciate it a lot it just doesn't explain why to me, does he believe more these days??)

his mentality though, he feels misunderstood from belift, and it's all over the same stuff he has experienced so far: him wanting solo gigs, his time to shine already came to him, solo popularity, solo opponturities, money, money and more money, heeseung questions why belift aren't normal at all, he sometimes has migraines because of them, he doesn't want to burden me at all but i'd say that if there's someone to blame, blame belift.

can you do reading on woozi’s latest condition? is he okay and socializing?

the lovers rx, 9 of wands, 2 of cups

mentally no. he seems to be single now as his ex cheated on him.. allegedly, didn't they? that's why he feels like a (curse word). he's currently trying to get over them and so far it's not working. when it comes to socializing.. except for work, seventeen and family, no. he doesn't talk with people except when it has to.

"he" allowed me to share all of this personal stuff btw :)

can u make a reading about ha yoonbin? will he come back to be a idol? (0wave’s viin)

temperance, 9 of cups, 3 of cups

as of now, no. compared to before, he's open to do it again some day but nowadays he's comfortable doing whatever he's doing in 0wave.

do you see anyone from BLACKPINK missing the group, no matter if it’s now or in the future?

ace of pentacles, 5 of swords rx, 9 of pentacles

straight away, no.

fans seem to be very conflicted over rosé’s choice at the black label and I am too :’) she’s a very creative and musically inclined person so going to a company who’s leading man isn’t exactly known for that is a little disheartening but it is her choice! my question is if rosè is going to have a lot of creative input in her solo release because it feels like she’s sticking to what’s comfortable?

5 of wands rx, 8 of pentacles, page of pentacles, 3 of cups, 2 of pentacles

she has unreleased songs in his drive (like, local disks, computer stuff) and that's the maaaain reason why she signed with him (to release them and eventually leave). so yes, she'll pour her soul and be more creative than ever. she's clear this time and planning.. too much. but i understand her, this time she's overthinking. she'll do well.

how do you read into hybe continuously releasing media play against ador/mhj/newjeans? it’s generally understood that hybe does this to try and stay ahead and to use whatever they’re leaking to act as a shield before their laundry gets aired but it’s not like it ever works in their favor and it actually hurts them more?

10 of swords rx, the empress rx, 5 of cups rx, 7 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles

the corporation have all the money in the world (i don't mean it literally) and .. they listen to sihyuk's childish desires from what i see. i don't see anything much but it's the same energy as eu trying to repress the far-right parties (or democratica trying everything to make trump lose). the same jackass vibe. the intentions aren't the same, yes, because here is thanks to the chairman rather than power, money and all the synonyms in the world but it's the saaaaaaame hypocrisy i'm feeling.

hybe just received their karma, that's it. thanks to the aquarius pluto, it makes wonders!

how is HYBE managing? are they aware that they’re just waiting for the clock to run out? and how are the newjeans members faring? i like to assume they know a good deals more than we think so where do they see things heading? Is their outlook positive?

how are hybe managing.. everything | 6 of cups, the emperor, 2 of swords rx, 3 of pentacles, page of pentacles

aah, so sihyuk is still stubborn like he's having a third-life crisis.. because he's probably past that middle-life crisis. pretty much, yes, the corporation is aware that they have no choice but .. to plan not ahead, as i see. they seem to want to finish this fiasco until its end because of the founder's idiocy. ironically enough, the emperor is still upright, but with the 6 of cups, it's just like the emperor is reversed with the hint of the childish-ass mindset he still has! because of his mentality for the situation hybe .. have no choice but to still continue. if they planned ahead before, then now they realised that min heejin's a master compared to .. them. so they plan, act and it's a cycle afterwards until its end.

newjeans' journey during the fiasco | wheel of fortune, knight of cups, the magician, justice, king of cups

yes, the girls' future is bright, especially for hanni and haerin. they might get more creative and i can see them writing at least a few songs and getting the credits for it!

how do you see LE SSERAFIM’s comeback in case they do well during their encores, do you think they’ll get more support

the hermit rx, 10 of swords rx, 3 of cups

... well. from k-fearnots.. no. i-fearnots seem to support them anyways.

can you do a new reading for nwjns’ comeback at the end of this year? how will it do in terms of success? will it surpass get up era? and will there be hybe “sabotaging” them?

the magician rx, 2 of wands, the star, queen of cups, 8 of pentacles

in terms of success, newjeans might .. hold onto some specific types of gigs. when they are solo or group ones, it's not important as the main key is the rebranding the girls are going to do. as newjeans are currently working on it (i actually can see them having ideas, and the creative freedom is being there), it can go in many, many ways. the chances of their next comeback doing good are there but as they're currently working on it, i still cannot see will they do well.

do you see sakura improving? she’s been telling the same story for nearly 10 years but she has not made a step forward? i do not want to be insensitive but is anxiety really the issue here? like I said before you can go back 7 years even before she entered the kpop industry and find videos of her saying that she’s a poor singer and wants to improve?

3 of cups, the tower, page of pentacles, the hierophant

yes, i can see her improving, and it might happen quite rapidly. the reason for her vocals sounding the same seem to be her environment (like how it was for her when she was in iz*one and how it is now in ls). i have no clue how it was in her home (japan and akb48) but in both journeys she had/has with iz*one and le sserafim are like exactly the same (until now). with otr/swing (now wakeone as they and other companies .. merged) her abilities had stayed the same while for soumu is in .. similar situation, i assume.

when it comes to the reason why she hasn't improved, no, it's not anxiety. it's the teachers and coaches' ignorance. behind the scenes, sakura is very obedient in her job and listens to what she has to do and what she doesn't, therefore whoever was responsible for how the idols trained their vocals did the worse job possible (doesn't matter where, the experience in both situations are the same), she needed the punch, the individuality and when the coaches are too ignorant, she works on what she has to do and forgets about her voice in general. she might improve after le sserafim though.

what's relationship between taesan (bnd) and minji (newjeans)? | update

i usually don't ask for dynamic update but since you're extremely persistent, with 4 of cups rx, the star and judgement show me that the energy hasn't changed and it's still "non-existent" like i said. ironically the bottom card of the spread is still page of pentacles, maybe that's minji? with the combination of the star and judgement, i can also see that there's potential between them to know each other better but not now and not in their current circumstances. i really hope next time you ask the same question around the beginning of the next year, usually for bonds between at least 2 people i make updates in 6 months at its earliest if the energy is extremely stagnant like theirs :)

18th August 2024

can you read whether Suga will leave BTS due to his controversy?

4 of swords, 4 of pentacles, king of cups

well, he's in military and his focus is on that, so i also doubt it too. he actually reflects on the situation. however, i see that he actually drank a little (shocking) so when he's drinking alcohol, he might have higher BAC genetically and that's why .. it happened. he will stop drinking from what i see, therefore no. he'll stay as member of bts.

how are HYBE’s higher-ups feeling about all the troubles going on there?

i'm asking for bang sihyuk, lee jaesang, 🛴🟤 (sorry i just dislike this guy), han hyunrock, so sungjin (soumu), kim taeho (belift), min heejin (ador) .. and only them

sihyuk | temperance, 4 of pentacles rx + the tower

jaesang | page of swords, 6 of cups

🛴 | 5 of swords rx, the devil rx

hyunrock | 4 of wands, 2 of pentacles

sungjin | queen of cups, 8 of pentacles

taeho | queen of swords, 5 of swords rx, the devil rx

heejin | temperance rx, 4 of pentacles rx + the tower

i see that 🛴 and hyunrock aren't involved and try to work despite whatever hybe are doing so far.

on the surface sihyuk is blank, emotionless, and inside is an chaos. min heejin is a chaos on the surface too, compared to sihyuk.

sungjin seem to be involved in the dirtyass work too much, idk what will be the outcome for him in the future though.

taeho is trying to come clean but he's aware that he'll have no choice but to do x and y when someone pays him to do mediaplay or some random propaganda stuff.

here with the new ceo is interesting, he's really trying to be neutral about all of this and actually likes min heejin, therefore he tries to talks with her about what happened so far. mhj's willing to make everything work better between ador and hybe without lawsuits as much as she can, so the things for her actually look bright because jaesang is also willing to find a solution about it (not only mhj but him too). this time the things for hybe look bright because the new ceo really believes that he can fix everything, and i see that he can and will.

how are the original members of Fifty Fifty feeling at the moment?

the original members of the group were keena, saena, sio and aran, so i'm asking about 4 of them.

keena | 8 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles rx

she's working and this is her only thing in her mind. nothing much i can see, she's just.. practising.

saena | 2 of swords, the hanged man rx, 5 of wands

in short, she really screwed up and doesn't want to re-debut with the other 2 girls at all, she's pressured to do it thanks to her current company. she should look at her mental health as it's at risk.

sio | 4 of pentacles rx, the tower, temperance

ohhh, she's just in love! .. nothing else

aran | 5 of pentacles rx, judgement rx, ace of pentacles

simialr to saena, she isn't sure if re-debuting is the right thing to do now, her feelings however are about her thought that she's very skeptical this will work out and doubts her company's intentions at all, she'd prefer for them to be realistic rather than giving her false promises especially what happened with alice recently (they disbanded)

hii can you do a reading on katseye’s career? will they find some success in the west? will they be popular?

ace of pentacles, judgement, 4 of pentacles rx, 3 of swords rx, 10 of swords rx

they seem to be busy in their own way, i don't see them gaining many many fans until the end of 2024, their pace will be slow but steady. so far i don't see them being overbooked, they will have just enough gigs and other work behind the scenes. nothing else as of now

are aespa going to be at any major festivals this coming year?

4 of pentacles rx, the magician rx, strength

currently i don't see it. there were invitation/s about something (a festival, i believe so), but it was rejected due to them being on their tour and the dates seem to overlap.

are ive satisfied with their lolla performance?

the sun, 2 of wands, knight of cups, 2 of pentacles rx

oh yes, they surely are satisfied. next time they don't have to be anxious about how they'll do, they'll nail it like they usually do!

how LE SSERAFIM are feeling about the reactions to Coachella and how they impact the girls?

coachella | the moon, queen of cups, page of cups

this time i'm sensing sakura more than the rest, so i can be more sure for her rather than the rest of le sserafim, so she's confused what she did wrong and really tries to find why the comments were pretty much negative. sakura's really trying to be objective and learning from her mistakes, however she is also aware she cannot do much, mainly because her training hasn't changed much to her. eunchae and kazuha felt way worse than sakura; if sakura tries to see it from neutral pov, kazuha and eunchae felt really insecure about their signing abilities and .. it just hit them now. chaewon and yunjin don't care about all of us' opinions.

impact | king of wands, page of wands rx, 8 of swords rx

sakura and chaewon don't care tbh, the rest of them feel that these feelings impact them more negatively. while for kazuha and eunchae they felt insecure from coachella onwards about their signing.. yunjin is different breed and realised what's going on only recently.

can you do reading on lance stroll? will he ever reach his peak racing again with aston martin or switching teams? how will be his 2025 and 2026 racing?

q1: justice, 5 of cups rx, the hermit, the star

i don't see him reaching his peak with am, it looks like he'll switch teams and only then the chance of re-peaking will increase.

2025 | 3 of pentacles rx, 9 of pentacles rx, 3 of swords rx

not as great as it might look, behind the scenes he'll have hard time with his team because of some difficulties between what he wants and what his team wants. therefore he might not do good.

2026 | death, the devil rx, 5 of swords rx

he might switch the teams around that time, so far i can only see this for 2026.

how does danielle actually feels towards haerin?

4 of cups rx, 10 of pentacles, 10 of cups

her feelings and thoughts of haerin overall are optimistic. i don't think that this spread shows that allegedly danielle sees haerin as shy or something like that, actually, i could see that danielle thinks very highly of her. danielle sees haerin as someone who's very enthusiastic when it comes to whatever she does. danielle sees the full potential of haerin and sees that she's exteremely dedicated to her work (which haerin loves). danielle also sees haerin as incredibly mature girl for her age who is, ironically or not, as optimistic as her, maybe like an equal when it comes to danielle's joyful side of her personality.. also is haerin coming from a wealthy family? because i sense danielle's acknoweledgement of this too.

22nd August 2024

will TREASURE & BABYMONSTER ever meet YGE & Yang Hyunsuk’s expectations?

treasure | ace of cups, justice

individually yes, but not as a group. there's karmic lesson with them.

babymonster | 6 of cups rx, ace of swords, 5 of cups rx

they won't be as successful as blackpink, yge and hyunsuk should get over with it. if they lower their expectations, then they'll meet.. whatever they expect.

have yunjin or chaewon ever felt negatively about their other members because of the backlash they get for their vocals?

chaewon | king of wands, 5 of cups rx, ace of swords

nah, she doesn't care.

yunjin | 5 of swords rx, ace of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

she felt sad for the backlash, because she will earn less and less if that continues (and therefore everyone else). she doesn't care about how the others feel but if that affects her salary + bonuses, she will react somehow.

does belift hate heeseung, or are just trying to tame him?

2 of cups, the chariot, page of cups

heeseung overworks on his own, the disclipine he has is because of himself and not belift. despite their complex relationship, belift tried to help but didn't worked out. they won't stop trying though but heeseung will ignore everyone like he ignores the rest of enhypen (for that).

may I ask what the members of ENHYPEN truly feel abt heeseung?

queen of cups, ace of pentacles, the hermit rx, the world, the sun rx

they know that heeseung works very hard and are concerned for his overworking, they are worried but cannot help much, heeseung isolates himself from them and doesn't listen to the boys :(

what will the public think of MEOVV?

the fool, 6 of swords rx, 5 of cups rx

the korean will like them, the foreign will be indifferent to meovv (as of now).

will MEOVV surpass or reach nwjns’ success?

page of wands, 2 of swords rx, 2 of pentacles

i don't see it as of now, the chances for this to happen are small.

can you read on how will jun’s seventeen upcoming drama effect for him and how it’ll be received in public? is it opening other acting opportunities or making him more famous as seventeen?

temperance, knight of cups rx, 4 of pentacles rx, 6 of pentacles, the sun

his upcoming drama will do very good, he seems to be alongside people who are way more famous in the chinese acting industry, so he'll star with big names. i can see carats being very proud (and even cry from joy), jun might be really good at acting (if that's his acting debut).

when it comes to his acting path, it's up to him to decide what he will do but more people will want jun to star here and there for sure, therefore it looks bright for him.

what concept BABYMONSTER would do for their first full album?

5 of wands rx, the world rx, 7 of cups rx, the star

i see some sort of repetitive things, like their logo, teen crush concept, the sound being the same, i don't see any new stuff. asa might have some ideas though but i am unsure if they'll come to reality mainly because of the reversed 7 of cups. yge are just stubborn what i can say

how is baemon feeling at the moment?

the devil rx, knight of cups, 5 of cups rx, 4 of pentacles rx

they are feeling great from what i see and work hard for whatever they will experience in the future. nothing else i can pick up on currently.

will seventeen's career changes during the military service be? will the group continue to rise or slowly decline?

7 of swords rx, 2 of pentacles rx, 10 of swords rx

... more likely decline faster than expected. they will do better individually from what i see.

will MEOVV have a successful debut?

the world rx, queen of cups, 3 of swords rx

in korea i can see it will be successful but outside of there is complex, so that's why i cannot say exact answer.

can you read on seventeen’s october comeback? what’s the concept theme and the meaning of it?

5 of cups rx, 6 of cups, 4 of pentacles rx, 10 of wands, knight of pentacles rx

basically i sense something they've already done .. and nothing much. i don't feel any meaning or other symbolics

is heeseung guesting in any vocal centered show? .. also any guesses on whether he's guesting on lee mujin service again?

1: 4 of pentacles rx, 6 of cups, the moon | he wants to but he doubts belift will give him a chance

2: 8♣️, 6♠️, king ♥️, 2♦️, 4♦️| it looks kind of complex but heeseung might not want to guest there (again?), if he wants to, it can happen next year

heeseung hinted at releasing a mixtape this year or maybe in early 2025.. any predictions on how it will be received and what can we do as fans to help?

the hermit, queen of cups rx, king of pentacles, the lovers, justice

he will receive good responses to be honest, however it might get a bit delayed? heeseung might want to make it perfectly. as of the second part, just support him. or try to manifest for him to have something individual (gig i mean), it can make him feel even better.

how will be j-hope's career from 2025-2027? will he be appreciated more and get more fans? will he go on a solo tour?

4 of cups rx, 5 of cups rx, 5 of pentacles, 8 of wands rx, 6 of wands

not as good as he wants it to be because of what tf hybe wants for him to do solo, there will still be differences between him and hybe (for his solo gigs). mainly i see loss of gigs and even delays, therefore he'll be stuck with what he has now.. therefore i doubt there'll be a tour or he will gain more fans

are there any major scandals waiting for aespa for the rest of the year?

the sun, 4 of pentacles, 5 of swords rx, the devil rx

no, i actually see lack of buzz for them, which is .. odd

will the former fifty fifty members have the same success as “cupid”?

knight of swords, 9 of pentacles, the world

the potential is there, but i personally don't see it.

how will le serrafim cb do? will they be more successful than before or will they fall short of expectations?

the devil rx, 5 of swords rx, the sun, 9 of wands, 4 of pentacles rx

in the middle, i still see that in korea they won't do well while they'll do fine outside of korea.

what Nicole (old translator) thinks of jungkook?

4 of swords, 8 of cups, death

she had feelings for him before, but she got over them, so that's why currently she tries to stay neutral when it comes to her thoughts on him. nicole thinks that he's too beautiful and it was hard for her to handle her job as his translator. honestly, to her he's very impactful (in personal matters), but up to that, she really doesn't want to say more.

how does mhj actually feels towards each member of nwjns?

min heejin towards..

minji | 5 of pentacles rx

mhj thinks minji's very authentic to her real self and improves with each day, she likes her honesty

hanni | 6 of pentacles

mhj thinks hanni's very good person and works very hard to get to what she is today. to mhj hanni helps in the subsidiary a lot

danielle | 3 of pentacles

mhj sees danielle as someone who's destined to work in a team and similar to hanni, dani helps in the subsidiary a lot, she can work with the most random person you can see

haerin | queen of pentacles rx

mhj is worried that she's workaholic and hopes she's resting as much as she can

hyein | 5 of cups rx

mhj sees her as mature girl who understands a lot, the energy is kind of similar to mhj towards minji's when it comes to improving herself

will adornbg be successful? how far they will get?

king of wands, 7 of cups, the emperor

the group might succeed slow but steady if the king of wands and the emperor promote their group like crazy. basically, similar energy as tws with the difference these 2 boys will be so relevant that it can be compared to very popular people such as cha eunwoo or other idols.

there’s a rumor that adrian newey already signed with aston martin in f1, is that true? if it’s true then how will aston martin f1 under newey?

sorry for responding short, again, but it looks like (according to my pendulum) he hasn't decided yet. i saw other rumors with ferarri and alpine but so far it looks it's like that.

can you read bts’ relevance after they’re enlisted? like how’s the group going and their activities

the chariot, king of pentacles rx, page of pentacles

quite complex because mainly hybe is deciding instead of them; though they're still as popular as usual

will hybe and ador settle down publicly or privately?

the empress, 2 of cups, page of wands

so far it's likely for hybe and ador to settle down publicly with private conversations here and there that we might not know about.

will bts ever leave HYBE?

the magician, queen of cups, death

obviously yes, someone might create their own company/firm (maybe suga as he's troipcal pisces; if the water sign person is the vedic sun, i'd add jin; if it's about their big3, i'd also add jimin here and i've sensed them the best here)

how bts members feel about hybe especially with the way they’re handling yoongi vs bang pd in the media

for suga, OT6 without yoongi | knight of cups, 8 of pentacles

they knew it was on purpose to save the boys' future so they're thankful. on the other hand i feel that it was announced on purpose because of another scandal to bts?

for pd | the lovers, knight of pentacles

"we knew it, anyways-", basically that was the vibe, they pretty much don't care? they knew it'd happen sooner or later.

can you do a reading on the suga DUI situation? what is he going through that made him drink that much? is this a thing he dose more than once (like drive while being drunk)? Anonymous

1: 9 of swords rx, 7 of swords rx, knight of pentacles rx, page of cups, 5 of cups rx

so much, so much, it's like 2 glasses of beer from what i see. why though is because of hybe vs. ador's drama apparently, he tried to do other things to let it out but hasn't work so far.

2: 10 of swords rx, ace of wands, 10 of cups

i believe it's for the first time he was caught with such big bac (due to his age and genes with the years like i saw before) and if there were other situations like this it wasn't that bad. so far i sense that he's not caught for the 1st time but i'm unsure.

can you do a reading on how i’ll-it feel about each other? | asked collectivelly

6 of cups rx, 5 of wands rx, wheel of fortune, 6 of swords, ace of cups rx

it's not negative, it's just that it could be way way WAY better. to me i'll-it's feelings towards each other are leaning towards neutral, i doubt they're close with each other currently. all of them have drifted away from each other and their dream (to be an idol and so on). they aren't happy to be in i'll-it and expected way better things to happen when they debuted.

overall they've drifted away and if they were close in the past, now it's not like that.

is newjeans’ future as a group positive?

2 of wands, the sun, the chariot, 10 of cups, 3 of pentacles

yes, it's extemely positive! so far i see there'll be a choice that has to be taken; whatever it is, it'll turn out very good in the end.

will BHM promote TXT in the group’s upcoming comeback and would it be received well by the public?

1: 5 of cups, ace of wands, 10 of pentacles rx, 5 of swords rx, the hermit, 3 of wands rx

so far it's way worse than before, i see way more delays, setbacks and this stuff, txt might postpone their promotions because of physical reasons (lile they're tired or injured; so far i see soobin, beomgyu and taehyun here). therefore bhm and hybe will experience extreme losses compared to before.

2: 4 of cups rx, 9 of cups, 4 of swords

from moas, yes, otherwise there'll be indifference.

how izna feel about debuting with the members that were chosen? | asked collectivelly

the devil rx, 7 of pentacles, the chariot

they feel really great about how their lineup turned to be, they are happy that all of them worked hard to debut in izna.. and that's simply it

what will the outcome of suga’s drunk driving situation be? is the sk public really mad about this or is it being blown out of proportion?

7 of cups rx, wheel of fortune, queen of wands

they were mad at first but now they aren't, it's kind of exaggerated, to be honest.

do you see suga going to prison?

queen of cups, the lovers, 7 of swords rx

straight away, no. the korean police don't even want him there.

is there any chance for txt soobin to debut as actor this year or next year?

2024 | 4 of pentacles + 2♠️, ace♥️, 9♣️

leaning towards no, he's working on his skills in that industry like i saw in july. he doesn't think he's good enough to go on castings but gets better with the time

2025 | temperance + jack ♦️, 4♣️, 3♠️

i am also leaning towards no but it's not because of his abilities, he'll be ready to actually try it. in 2025 i can see him doing auditions but so far i see 2 possibilities:

- the jack of diamonds might be his colleague in his acting debut and they'll be really helpful but behind the scenes the stuff doesn't feel so good. with this option i can see he'll be accepted to do a drama but how it will be done can be way harder than he expected and it'll be harder for him to jiggle his acting job and his idol one, therefore it'll be harder for soobin to attend some gigs that are reallt profitable for bhm, therefore i'm leaning towards that his acting debut can happen in 2026

- jack of diamonds is soobin himself and he'll do many, too many auditions but so far there might not be a drama that he'll be accepted but will be thankful that he's searched for this industry nonetheless

- are hybe/belift trying to sabotage enhypen?

3 of wands, 7 of wands, 7 of swords rx

intentionally, no. it's more like hybe/belift don't really know what's better for enhypen. what i see is that they think x is the best for them while it's y.

there’s a rumor between mina twice and nam joohyuk, do they even know each others tho? what’s their dynamic?

7 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, knight of wands, the fool, the hermit

if there was any dating rumor, false.

i actually doubt they personally know each other, the vibes are about their hard work as entertainers (idol, actor) and the admiration about what they do. the admiration seem to come more from joohyuk's side rather than mina's but even then it's on the social medias and isn't visibly seen.

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sinfulsalutations · 2 years ago

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hello!!! i absolutely LOVE your writing!!! could i maybe request a smut where the reader is between hunter and crosshair, and they’re constantly trying to one up each other in how good they can make her feel?

thank you so much, and i hope you’re well!! <33

𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥! ⋆*･ﾟ𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ & ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴘᴏʟʏᴀᴍᴏʀʏ, ᴀʟʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴍɪ-ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴇx, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx (ꜰ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱʜᴀɪʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ ʙᴀꜱᴛᴀʀᴅꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀʀʏ

⋆ ★ ᴏᴍɢ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ… ᴇᴀᴅ;ᴊꜰᴀ;ɪᴇʀᴀ;ʟꜱᴋᴅꜰᴊ (ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʏ). ᴏᴋ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ, ꜰɪɴᴀʟ ᴇxᴀᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ɪ'ᴍ ᴄʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴅᴋ ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ/ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴛɪᴇꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜᴏ!

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You would complain. No, really, you would. The two are acting like literal children. Picking useless and nonsensical fights with each other only creates tension and mistrust between the three of you.

It's no secret to the rest of the batch you have been exploring relationships with each of them. First with Hunter, on a night when the two of you finally acted on your festering desire and indulged in passionate lovemaking until the sun rose. Then with Crosshair, which was something far more harsh and selfish. Your first night with him left purple love bites littered all over your neck and a sweet soreness between your thighs.

However, no matter how much they insist that one experience must have been better, they were both equally perfect in their own unique ways. You might be starting to tire of this endless unspoken debate the two are having.

Not about who gets to have you, no. They have no problem sharing. At least, not together. Yet.

Maybe once they get over this you'll ask them to. But for now, trying to make you moan and whine as loud as possible so the other can hear loud and clear will do for them. So will leaving you fucked out and their spend rubbed all over your skin, muttering a sly 'top that!' in their brother's ear when they pass by each other afterward.

An unspoken rivalry has developed between the two of them; it being judged purely on how good they can make you feel.

Of course, you haven’t actually expressed any real disapproval of the two of them. Mostly (entirely) because of how much pleasure you’ve been able to wring out because of it.

You’re somewhere cramped in a tucked away booth at 79’s; the other members of the batch are scattered around the bar getting drinks or absolutely jamming out on the dance floor (Just Wrecker, actually). All the while you and Hunter can't seem to tear your eyes away from each other, even as Crosshair's side is pressed to you.

A pair of lips dance lightly against your jaw, and you squeak softly in your throat when fingers tickle your skin unintentionally when he decides to wrap an arm around your waist. His mouth trails up your face, breathing hard and intentionally against you before nipping softly at the shell of your ear.

Not once do your eyes shift away from Hunter. His fingers curl tightly around his cup of whiskey rocks and a dark stare overtakes any higher thinking. A steady thumb taps the cold surface of the glass, the other hand curling and twisting his vibroblade between two fingers. His posture is all too casual compared to how intensely he looks at you.

It's so much. Crosshair's hand on your waist rubs your skin through the fabric of your shirt, riding it up until his long, cold fingers make contact with your stomach. He's admiring you, doting on you, even though you know he's doing it all to make Hunter more mad.

“You look good tonight,” He compliments you, the deep trills of his voice sending pleasant vibrations down your back. With a soft, delicate flutter of your eyes, you incline further into Crosshair's body, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. You can feel the smirk against your skin. The hand wrapped around your waist drifts further down, fingers hovering above your skin and brushing against it like a soft tickle until he holds your knee firmly, thumb brushing the skin thoughtfully.

And then, he moves his hand. Further and further up your leg until he’s slowly dipping it past the bottom of your skirt, caressing your thigh with the heat of a thousand suns. The tips of his fingers tease the innermost part and you hiss under your breath, so close to breaking your eye contact with Hunter. But he does it before you. They drift a few inches higher than where your eyes lie, his look of intensity suddenly having a wave of petty anger fall over it. You don't have to see Crosshair's face to know they’re staring each other down.

Crosshair whispers warmly into your ear again,

“Good enough to eat, don’t you think?”

And you scoff at the cheesiness. All to get a rise out of his brother, you realize. Yet it still has the most desperate inducing effect on your senses. You turn your head, ashamedly hiding the fact in his neck and letting the meekest whine hum deep in your throat. A chuckle ruptures in his stomach.

"That's my girl," He praises lowly before taking your waist and hoisting you out of the booth. Finally, you tear your eyes away, looking at Crosshair with the stare of a lost puppy. Maybe he could pause this little petty fight to give you what you need right now.

Hunter, to no surprise of anyone, doesn't look as satisfied with himself as Crosshair is when the two of you return; your clothes have been rustled and your thighs are pressed together tightly, a new coat sheen rubbed on the lower half of Crosshair's faced paired with a cocky smirk.

Tech's the first to comment on it, making a strange remark that perhaps Crosshair is using a new aftershave, and Hunter grumbles under his breath.

All while you're positively fucked out, your entire body leaning onto Crosshair when you all finally leave 79's, head tucked into his neck and lips ghosting over the skin, any skin you can reach. He's soaking up the rays of your satisfaction, how pleased you look in his grasp all from his ministrations.

When the two of you pass by his brooding stature, he slyly whispers in his brother's ear,

"Made her come four times," He brags. Hunter turns to him with a questioning raise of his eyebrow, but Crosshair doesn't falter. "Think you can beat that?"

Hunter laments something bitter under his breath, something you can't pick up on in your state of bliss. But he makes sure that Crosshair hears, loud and clear, straight in his ear,

"Try me, vod."

***

"Fuck, Hunter," You whine breathily, neck lazily moving from side to side on the pillow. Hunter has his tongue all over you, licking long, warm patterns over your cunt. He's already had you finishing over his mouth, his fingers, and his cock so many times tonight, but he doesn't seem to be done, even as you can feel tears running uncontrollably down the crest of your cheek and staining the mattress.

He leaves a heavy petted kiss on your clit and you buck into his hips involuntarily with a small cry. He only hums into you and presses your hips down further with his grasp.

"It's- too much, Hunter, too much-"

A shush subsides your begging, and Hunter trails his lips up, leaving a soft kiss on your stomach. You do your best to lift yourself onto your elbows to see his face. His bandana, still tightly knit, has been adjusted so now all of his hair is lifted into a man-bun, all for better access to you. He flashes you a look of mischief before reaching up and softly pecking your lips.

"I know, mesh'la," He says softly when you break away. But when you flash a pout his way, he doesn't seem very keen on stopping just yet. "Can you give me one more?"

Lost in the haze, you simply nod.

With a smile and another brief kiss, he dives back into your pussy. You gasp with the touch, all of it just teetering on too much, too overwhelming, but it's somehow bordering constantly, leaving you in a state of pure perfection. It doesn't take you long to come again with a sigh, and then a few moments later fall sound asleep, chest rising and falling heavily.

Oh so conveniently after Hunter has you tucked into your Crosshair decides to walk in. Hunter turns, and his neutral expression quickly switches into something smug. Without speaking, he walks up to his brother, holding up the shoulder pad of his kit and pressing to his chest chauvinistically. Crosshair with a perplexed gaze looks down, seeing the carves left on it by Hunter's vibroblade; six tally marks.

"Beat that, vod," Hunter says with a proud puff of his chest, bumping their shoulders together one last time before leaving their barracks, his face covered in the same shine Crosshair had boasted so exclusively two nights before.

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420

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