#smutty fanfiction too!!!

[labelma]

Men need to STOP bringing up Thrawn to me on a first date unprompted it’s making me crazy 😭

Most recent guy asked me who the blue guy is to test if I knew who he actually was??? And I had to refrain from being like “you should see my fucking Google docs”

[lilmissnatcat24]

im writing a shakarian one shot that's actually so out of pocket im getting slightly ashamed with myself, please enjoy

When Shepard first left the Battery, door swooshing close behind her, leaving Garrus alone in what could only be described in a fugue state in a room that resembled less of a gun battery and more of a coffin-- the only thing he could think of was how in the world he was supposed to have sex with a woman without plates to protect their skin from his talons. Did she realize that? That she had such a thin epidermis that all he had to do was look at it sharply and it would rupture? Had she ever seen his talons? He knew the answer to that before he ever proverbially asked it in his own head: no. Of course she hasn’t seen your hands, he thought. That’s much too intimate for whatever it is that you and Shepard are. Maybe she’d back out if she saw them. Maybe she’d come to her senses. Or maybe, he’d shave them down for her.  Garrus attempted to lean over his calculations once more on his console. All of the numbers on the screen blurred together, seemingly floating into the air around him and making him slightly motion sick. Or, it was possibly due to the fact that the only friend he had left in the galaxy just told him she wanted to fuck him. That potentially could have been it, too.  He’d talk to Dr. Chakwas, get Shepard’s medical history. Maybe Cerberus undid a few of the screws she had left in her head. Or, maybe the Collectors were one big, elaborate cover for Cerberus. Maybe they just wanted to run tests on cross-species intercourse, and Shepard was the galaxy’s most expensive guinea pig.  Despite it all, despite the disbelief, Garrus felt a warm sensation in his gut. It wasn’t heartburn or indigestion. It wasn’t a stomachache. It wasn’t anything that could be explained rationally. He ate the same exact thing every day, and unless Gardner decided to mix his rations up with the levos, he doubted that he was getting poisoned.  It wasn’t until Garrus tried to touch his stomach did it flourish into something else entirely. It was arousal. He swallowed it down, suddenly horrified and disgusted with his own treacherous body. Was that all it took to get him going anymore? What was he, fifteen years old and fresh faced cadet in his first week of bootcamp? Had it been so long since he’d been with another person that even just the insinuation of sex turned him on? 

[virescent-v]

Hey, can I request #92 pls. Maybe with a little angst but I’m leaving it to you🩷

hi hi hi, so sorry this took like...two weeks. life, ya know?

it started as something, and im not sure this is the angst you were really looking for (that really isn't my area of expertise i should work on that lmfao) but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Definitely Not Friends

Word Count: 2.7k+

Prompt: “friends don’t do this kind of shit”

Warnings: It's smutty, ya'll, but not my "normal" kind of smut

The repetitive nature of your ongoing…tryst with Emily was getting under your skin. It had all started off so innocently; just some casual flirtation between coworkers. Nothing that Derek and Penelope haven’t been accused of over the years. But before you knew it, you were spending more alone time with Emily than any of your other coworkers. Late night talks on the phone, dinners after long cases to unwind, Friday night movie nights, the list goes on. 

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Just two coworkers who saw some terrible shit every day who got on well enough to lean on one another. 

But then Emily started pushing the envelope. 

A brush across your shoulders as she was passing by. A squeeze of your hand before getting out of the SUV to catch a killer. Eye contact that lasted just a little too long. A lip bite that made your breath catch. 

Innocent enough things that you convinced yourself you were just imagining them. 

But then one night after a gut wrenching case, she kissed you. 

She had driven you home from the airport after getting back from a two week case in Minnesota. It was well after midnight, you could barely keep your eyes open, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to spend the rest of the night crying, eating your feelings in ice cream, or sleeping for the next six days. 

She walked you to your door, nothing out of the usual. You looked at her before going inside to say goodbye, but she engulfed you in the best hug of your life. Her arms around you were strong. Supportive. You could feel your whole body melt into hers. 

You’ve never felt more safe. 

When you pulled back a little to look at her, your eyes caught and you tried to convey everything you couldn’t find the words for. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

And then, she kissed you and she ran. 

You stood stupefied on your porch, watched her get back into the unmarked SUV before speeding off into the night. 

You didn’t talk to her for three days. 

At work, she acted like everything was normal. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up because you weren’t even sure what it was. Was it just a comfort thing? Did she have feelings for you? You couldn’t tell. Emily was so hard to read on a good day, let alone when your head was all over the place. 

A few days passed and it had seemed like everything went back to normal. You talked every day, had gone to a few meals together, and she came over for a movie night. 

Except this movie night was different, too. 

She was wearing a skimpier set of pajamas. A loose fitting tank top and the shortest pair of shorts you had ever seen. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra because her nipples were visible through the material. You weren’t sure how she hadn’t caught you staring. 

She sat closer to you on the couch than normal, too. Your sides were basically joined from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her warmth radiating from her to you, the nervous excitement making your body heat up even more in return. 

Again, you weren’t sure what was happening, but you were going to roll with it. The unknowing was thrilling in itself. 

Emily fell asleep halfway through whatever romcom you had put on, her head on your shoulder, her hand lazily resting on your thigh. 

You were too nervous to move, your breaths short as not to jostle her. 

You’re pretty sure you could die happy on this couch with Emily’s head resting on you. 

It was almost the end of the movie when Emily shuffled in her sleep, her head moving towards the crook of your neck, her hand traveling dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat erupt through your body, your stomach starting to twist into knots. You knew you should probably wake her, get her into your guest bed, and go to sleep. But you were enjoying her being this close too much. 

You could feel her breath against the side of your neck, the little puffs of air almost tickling. She grunted in her sleep, her hand tightening around your thigh, her nose nuzzling against you as she let out a sexy little “mmhmm.” 

Your mind immediately went to the gutter and you could only imagine her making that sound as she ground her hips against yours in your bed. 

You pressed your thighs together to stop the zoom of arousal that shot through you. You barely suppressed the moan that wanted to tumble from your lips. 

You finally gained the courage to wake her and get her to the guest room. Sleepy Emily was one of your favorites; she turned almost incoherent and klutzy and it was maybe the cutest thing you’d ever seen. 

As you were pulling the sheets up around her, she all but dragged you into the bed with her. She got you settled under the covers and immediately cuddled into you, making you into the little spoon. Again, you could feel her breath on your neck, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your upper thigh and hip. 

You felt yourself freeze as she sleepily mumbled, “Stop overthinking it. Go to sleep.” 

You woke up the next morning and she was already gone. 

Your life with Emily continued on like this for a month. Little things would happen that would make you question your relationship to her and then she’d act as if nothing happened and that you two were just really good friends. 

It was making your mind spin, giving you a constant headache. 

You were almost fed up with the constant see-sawing, ready to talk to her about what was happening, when you two first fell into bed together. 

Another bad case, a late night out at the bar with everyone, and too many shots of tequila. 

You woke up the following morning with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and fuzzy memories of the night before. All you could remember was the smell of her signature perfume, the feel of lips on skin, and sore muscles. 

You probably would’ve written it off, thought it was just your overactive imagination if it hadn’t been for the rather large bite mark on the inside of your thigh. 

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, especially since the memories were still alluding you. You probably would’ve tried to write it off as a random hook up if it hadn’t been for the fact that Emily had woken up in bed beside you, an almost matching bite mark against her collarbone. 

This time, it was a little harder to write off what had happened. Especially since you were both naked. 

You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish, an almost panicked look in your eyes. 

Emily cleared her throat. “Wanna get breakfast?” 

You were never more appreciative and pissed for her nonchalant attitude. 

“Sure,” you said, a sudden burst of confidence hitting you as you got out of bed to head to the bathroom without worrying about covering up. 

You’re pretty sure you heard Emily gasp as you closed the bathroom door, a little victorious smirk playing at your lips. 

Again, you two never talked about what happened. 

It almost seemed like a game. How many days you two could go before stumbling into one of these moments together. 

You made it thirty-six hours without snuggling on the couch for a movie. 

You made it thirty-seven hours without Emily’s hand finding your thigh. 

You made it eighty-eight hours without her kissing you after a night out. 

You made it one hundred and fourteen hours before she was back in your bed. 

Except this time, you were both sober. 

You had almost gotten yourself killed. Not on purpose, just a run in with one of the many psychopaths you deal with at work. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. 

But after he’d been placed in cuffs, Emily had this absolutely feral look in her eyes. Uncaged. Like she was seconds away from combusting. 

She drove you home. Like always. But the entire ride was silent. 

You made it into your apartment, the door barely closed behind you before she exploded. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She shouted. 

It made you take a step back. She’d never raised her voice at you before. Emily was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her fists clenched at her sides. 

You were sure you looked scared, befuddled, bewildered. You couldn’t even process quick enough to say anything before she continued. 

“You almost got yourself killed! He had you pinned to the fucking floor! There’s bruises along your arms from where he touched you!” At this point, you could see Emily almost vibrating with her anger. But you were fairly certain she wasn’t actually angry. At least you hoped not. 

“I can’t believe you would be so reckless to walk into a building alone! You knew what he was capable of! How sneaky he’s been! But you didn’t care!” Emily started pacing around the floor, her eyes wild, but focused on her hands, her fingers twisting around each other. 

You could feel your own misplaced anger starting to race through your veins. “I knew what I was doing! I had cleared the room! I don’t know how he got the jump on me, but how on earth is that my fucking fault, Emily? We split up, like we do to cover the premises, and I drew the short end of the stick!” You let out a breath. “Why are you blaming me? Blame him!” 

She spun around to face you, her nostrils flaring. “I am! But I’m also blaming you!” 

You rolled your eyes, tossed your hands up,” Why? What did I do? Why are you mad at me and yelling at me?” 

“Because you didn’t wait for me!”  

Your eyes caught Emily’s. Beneath the anger, beneath her guarded shell, you could see the fear in her eyes. The realization that something worse than a couple of bruises could have happened. 

You tried to open your mouth, say something, but before you could, Emily muttered a quick “fuck it” before crossing the room to you, crushing her lips to yours. 

Before you knew it, clothes were scattered along the hallway to your bedroom. 

Emily tossed you back onto the bed, her body quickly making its way between your thighs. You quickly wrapped your legs around her waist, dragging her closer to you, tangling your hands in her hair as you brought her down for another heated kiss. 

Emily broke away from you, trailing her lips down the side of your neck, quickly finding the spot behind your ear that made you moan out loud. She spent a considerable amount of time there, making sure to leave her mark before moving lower down your throat, kissing across your collarbones, and down between the valley between your breasts. 

She wasted no time wrapping her lips around your turgid peak, taking satisfaction in the way it made you fist the sheets below you in your hands. She made sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, her hand making sure to not leave the opposite one alone for long. 

Emily could spend hours giving your breasts the attention they deserved, but she was almost as impatient as you seemed to be, so she kept making her way down your body, finding the sweet spots that made you whimper or sigh, making note of them for later. 

You could feel how wet you were already, but with Emily between your legs, you couldn’t get any friction to help the ache that was building. 

“Em, please,” you whispered, almost embarrassed by how much you needed her. The build up from all of the times she was just a little too close, the lingering touches, and even the thought of the last time you two fell into bed together (even though you unfortunately don’t remember much of it). It was driving you crazy. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you,” she smirked at you before swiping her tongue through your wetness. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your eyes rolling back a little, one of your hands shooting down to her hair to keep her there. 

Emily ate you out as if her life depended on it, as if she could spend the rest of her life between your legs. She took her time to explore every inch of you, figuring out what moves made you whine, which ones made your entire body shudder, and what made you grip her hair harder. 

It didn’t take long for you to climb towards the edge of your orgasm, but before you could fall over, Emily stopped and pulled away from you. 

The gasp, the outrage on your face almost made Emily laugh out loud. “I love being friends with you,” she snickered at you, a taunting glint in her eyes. 

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit,” you scoffed, flabbergasted at Emily’s ability, even with your juices all over her face, to ignore what was happening between you two. 

You could feel Emily pause, her body tight, afraid to move. She didn’t expect you to lash out, and she could tell you weren’t really happy with her, upset with her disregard of everything. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands finding purchase on your hips, her thumbs rubbing back and forth a little. “I never knew how to…address this,” she shrugged. 

You nearly laughed at how small she looked, unable to make eye contact with you. She didn’t have an issue with having her mouth on your pussy two minutes ago, but now she couldn’t look you in the eye. 

“A conversation would’ve been a good place to start, Em. You made me feel like I was going crazy.” 

Her eyes finally caught yours and you could instantly tell that she really did feel sorry. Feelings just weren’t her thing. Before she could apologize again, you cut her off, “We can talk about it after you finish fucking me, Emily.” 

You watched her demeanor transform to something hungrier, cockier, feral. “Yes ma’am,” she mockingly saluted before connecting her lips to yours again, trying to convey everything that she was feeling. 

Her hand traveled down from your hip, stilling at the apex of your thighs, silently asking for permission. You nodded against her, your lips still connected in a heated kiss. 

She teasingly stroked your warm, wet pussy with her hand, gathering your juices on her fingers. She pulled back from your kiss, watching your expression as she slowly thrusted two fingers inside of you. 

You tried to keep eye contact with her, but after the build up of all of the little moments between you, it felt so good to finally have her inside of you. Emily slowly built up to an almost punishing pace, something fast, and hard, and exactly what you needed. Her fingers curled at just the right angle to hit that spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. 

Emily’s other hand made contact with your straining clit, rubbing tight, little circles to match her thrusts. You could feel yourself rushing towards that edge again, a breath away from letting go. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Let go for me.” 

Your release hit you like a freight train, your back arching off of the bed, your mouth open in a silent scream. You felt your muscles tense, the euphoria washing through you, before letting go and relaxing as Emily fucked you through your orgasm. You tried to catch your shallow breath, a light sheen of sweat across your flushed skin, before looking at Emily, your hands starting to dance across her skin. 

Emily’s own hands caught yours, catching the questioning look in your eyes. She kissed both of your palms before tangling your fingers together. “Later, baby. We should talk first.” 

Those words would usually cause a rush of panic to course through your blood, but something about the way that Emily was looking at you put you at ease. 

You took a deep breath, smiling a little at her, kissing her hands in return. “Yeah, we should.” 

She smiled back. 

And she didn’t run.

[wildflowerspollinator]

Between Confusion and Clarity

I published a new chapter of my fanfic. It’s smutty but sweet, and it could also work as a standalone piece. The whole story is fluff and smut with a bit of angst.

Chapter 18

Colin confidently steps down from the carriage, the sounds of bustling London streets muffled by the cool night air. Reaching into his coat pocket, he carefully withdraws a small, unlit candle. The coachman adjusts the carriage lantern.

"A candle in your pocket? I thought you were just happy to see me?" Penelope teases. 

Leaning in close, Colin grins. "Upon closer inspection, my dear, you'll find that I am very happy indeed."

Stepping away from Penelope momentarily, he touches the wick of his candle to the carriage light. The flame catches quickly, casting a soft glow that illuminates his face. Satisfied, he turns to Penelope and offers her his arm with a warm smile. "Shall we?" he asks, the flickering candle casting light on the stairs leading to the townhouse.

Penelope takes his arm, her eyes reflecting the light as she gazes at him. "Thank you, Colin," she replies.

As they step inside, the interior is cloaked in darkness, save for Colin's candle's soft, solitary glow. He turns to Penelope, his expression warm and reassuring. "Stay close; it won't take long to light the place up."

Guiding her inside, he moves to the nearest sconce on the wall, gently tipping the candle to light a larger one in the wall-mounted holder. The flame catches, spreading a warm light across the entryway. Colin moves quickly, repeating the process with a few more sconces and a lantern, casting a welcoming glow throughout the room.

Penelope admires him and appreciates how he cares for her comfort, even in the smallest gestures. "There," he says with a satisfied smile. It's much better."

She nods, her smile widening as she takes in the sight of the townhouse's entryway. "Much better indeed," she agrees.

Colin sets the now mostly melted candle on a nearby table, its purpose served. Extending his hand to Penelope, his expression softens. "Shall we find somewhere more comfortable?"

"We could," she replies, pressing him against the wall and unbuttoning the first two buttons of his vest. "Give me a tour."

"A tour, you say?" His voice drops, "I think I can manage that."

"I should hope so," she says, her fingers lingering on his vest before slowly stepping back, giving him just enough space to move.

Taking her hand, Colin threads his fingers through hers and leads her down the hallway. "This is the drawing-room," he says softly, pride evident in his voice. "I thought it would be a good place for us to entertain guests or just relax with a good book. I've already moved some of my books and added a few decorative trinkets as placeholders, but we can work on building the collection together."

Penelope's eyes scan the room, taking in the cozy furniture arrangement and thoughtful touches. "It's perfect, Colin," she says sincerely, her voice filled with admiration. "I love it."

He turns to her, a tender expression on his face. "And I love you."

"Penelope," he begins, her name a question on his lips as if searching for the right words. "Before I lead you into every room, know it's a promise."

"A promise?" she echoes.

He nods. "A promise that this is our home."

Tears well up in her eyes. "Colin…"

He takes a deep breath, his voice softening even more. "Marry me, Penelope. I want to spend my life discovering you slowly, day by day. I want to learn every story and cherish every moment with you. I want every part of you. The bold, the shy, the playful, and the serious. I want it all, and I want us to fill this home with memories of a well-lived and well-loved life."

"Yes, Colin," she says, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. "Yes, I will marry you."

He leans down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. When they finally pull apart, his eyes sparkle with joy. "Well, good," he says with a grin. "Then the tour can commence."

Retaking her hand, he leads her further into the townhouse. "We'll send an invitation to your house in a couple of days' time. Once Anthony and Kate have settled in, we'll have your mother over to decide on the wedding details. I told Anthony a dowry wasn't necessary—between my funds and, well…" He lowers his voice conspiratorially, "And he doesn't know about your Lady Whistledown earnings, but I think we'll have more than enough."

Penelope squeezes his hand, "So, Anthony is back?"

"Yes, that's why I was finally able to ask. But I've been working on getting everything set in motion since I told your mother I intended to court you," Colin explains, his eyes shining with pride.

"Hence the home," Penelope says, her voice soft with understanding.

"But now that it will be official, you must act somewhat surprised when you see the home again in full light when you return with Rae to settle on everything you'll need to run the household."

"Colin!" she exclaims, her voice catching with laughter and tears.

"Yes?" he asks, turning to her slightly worriedly. “Is it… is it not…”

"No!" Penelope quickly interrupts, shaking her head. "It's not that. I've always wanted you."

He steps closer, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down her cheek. "You have me, Pen," he says gently. "You've got me forever."

"I know," she whispers, her voice trembling. "But I wanted you and this for so long. And to discover that you've been putting it in motion, making our future turnkey ready, it's… it's…"

He looks at her expectantly, his heart thudding in his chest. "Yes?"

"It's the most attractive thing you could ever do," she finishes.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Colin's face. "I'm glad you think so," he says. He pulls her into his arms again, holding her tightly against him.

"Because there's nothing I want more than to make you happy. To build this life with you."

She hesitates for a moment, then whispers, "I…"

"Yes?" he prompts, his eyes searching hers.

"I intend to ravage you, Mr. Bridgerton."

His eyebrows lift in surprise and delight. "Oh? And where might you have in mind for such an endeavor?"

"Upstairs?" she suggests.

Without hesitation, Colin takes her hand, his grip firm and reassuring.

"Upstairs it is," he replies, reaching for the lantern. Its soft light flickers in the dim hallway and leads her toward the staircase. "I think you're going to love what I have in store for you," he proclaims as they ascend, their steps quick and eager.

"Wait," Penelope asks, her voice soft but insistent.

Colin pauses, looking down at her with a curious expression. "You don't want to go upstairs?" 

She steps ahead of him, turning to face him on the stairwell, "It's not that," she declares, smiling. "I just never had the chance to kiss you on a stairwell... to kiss you at your level."

Colin pauses, his eyes flicking between her and the steps. His heart quickens at her boldness, "Then, by all means, Penelope," he says with anticipation as he leans toward her, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Kiss me."

Her smile deepens, and without hesitation, she leans in, her hands finding their way to the collar of his jacket as she pulls him closer.  She brushes her lips against his, slow and teasing at first, savoring the novelty of being on equal footing.

Colin breaks away momentarily, breathless, his forehead resting against hers. "You know," he begins, "if I get you out of this dress and you sit in my lap like you did that night in the garden, we'll nearly be at the same level."

Penelope presses her hand gently to his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. Her eyes lock onto his with a softness that holds him in place. "Okay," she whispers.

With that, Colin begins walking her backward, his steps slow and deliberate, guiding her up the stairs one step at a time. His mouth doesn't leave her skin as they ascend; his lower lip drags lazily up her neck as his lips find her earlobe, his teeth grazing it lightly before he sucks on it. She lets out a small, quiet gasp, her hand tightening its grip on his shoulder. His tongue flicks over her ear. 

He pulls back slightly, taking her hand in his. His thumb brushes soothing circles into her skin, a gentle, grounding touch as they move down the hallway toward the main bedroom.

Once inside, Colin releases her hand momentarily and moves the lantern by the bedside. He lifts it carefully, using the flame to light a few candles scattered around the room, bathing them in a golden light.

As soon as Colin is done lighting the room, Penelope moves on him, fingers tugging swiftly at the buttons, so many buttons. Colin's gaze is intense, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he watches her undress him. His hands twitch at his sides, yearning to touch her, to return the favor and undress her just as urgently—but Colin waits, allowing her to take control at this moment. He waits because he loves the way her fingers move with confidence, her brows furrow in concentration, and her lips part slightly in anticipation. The hunger in her face drives him wild with need.

"Like my own Greek statue," Penelope whispers in awe. Her eyes sweep over Colin, admiring every line of his body, and her hands sweep over his abs.

Colin's lips twitch as he steps closer, "You know," he begins, "the nice thing about not having staff around yet is that you don't have to whisper." He leans closer, "We can be as loud as we want."

Penelope's cheeks flush a soft pink, but she grins, straightening her posture. With exaggerated enthusiasm, she repeats, "My own Greek statue!"

Colin laughs, the sound rich and full, as his hands slip around her waist, "And my goddess!" he declares, his lips brushing against her forehead.

His laughter subsides, and with a new intensity in his eyes, his hands move to undress her. His fingers work with care. Her dress falls in a soft heap at her feet, leaving her standing before him, exposed and vulnerable but powerful in how she looks up at him.

Colin's eyes trace her form before his hands slide to her waist in one smooth motion; he bends slightly, scooping her up effortlessly as Penelope lets out a surprised gasp. As he lifts, Penelope instinctively wraps her legs around his hips. His arms move to cradle her under her thighs, holding her securely against his chest. She grasps his shoulders for balance, feeling the warmth of his body and the strength in his embrace. 

With a grin, he moves toward the ensuite door, nudging it open with his shoulder. "You know, we never completed the tour," he says.

Penelope laughs softly, her arms wrapped around his neck as she leans close. "Well, I'll have plenty to be surprised by in the light of day," she says, kissing his shoulder. 

Colin smiles as he steps inside the room. "I know we have the sitting room downstairs," he begins, his tone thoughtful, "but I thought a smaller, more private library would be nice. With a writing desk..."

Penelope listens, her fingers trailing through his hair. Colin pauses, and he gently lowers her onto the desk, her body settling against the smooth surface.

"Are you going to read me more excerpts from your journal?"

"Not now."

"No?" Penelope's fingers trail down Colin's chest as he sits in the desk chair, facing her. His hands move to her thighs. "I'm going to write the next chapter."

"Now?" she manages to ask.

"With my tongue," as he slowly spreads her legs. 

Penelope's eyes widen, "Oh," she gasps softly, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Do you plan on writing many chapters this way?"

Colin grins, his hands kneading her thighs as he moves in closer, his lips hovering just above her skin. "I'd like a reminder of this memory every time I sit at this desk," his voice a low, "to remind myself how best to use my talents, whether it's the stroke of a pen, the stroke of a finger, or..."

As his lips descend, Colin's tongue traces a slow, deliberate path; Penelope gasps again, her head tilting back as the intensity of his touch overwhelms her senses. Colin's hands continue along her sides, steady and firm as if savoring every inch of her.

Although a faint light poured in from the open door, it wasn't enough to reveal all the details of each other. Instead, their eyes remained veiled in shadow, amplifying the sensitivity of every other sense. Penelope's skin tingled as Colin's fingertips skimmed across it, the feel of his tongue, each touch electric in the darkness, making her hyper-aware of every movement and brazen by the darkness.

For Colin, the taste of her was intoxicating, her scent, her wetness dripping on him. The way Penelope didn't hold back, the moans spilling from her lips, drove him to the edge. Her voice filled the room, his name on her lips like a mantra. 

In the afterglow, Penelope moves from where she's perched on the edge of the desk, her bare feet softly padding against the wooden floor as she shifts onto Colin's lap. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, and a gentle rock of her hips follows; Colin's hands instinctively grip her, his fingers splayed firmly over the curve of her ass, holding her securely in place.

"I want..." Penelope's voice is a breathy whisper, her lips brushing against his ear as she speaks.

Colin's head tilts back slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at her, barely able to make out her face. "What is it that you want?" he asks, his voice rough with desire, his hands tightening their hold.

"The feel of you... on top," she murmurs, her voice dripping with want. As she says this, her hand moves between their bodies, fingers trailing lower until they brush against him. And then, taking some of her own wetness in her hand, slowly, deliberately, she takes the palm of her hand and rubs it against his tip.

Colin lets out a guttural moan, the sound deep and primal, his head falling back as his body reacts to her touch. His grip on her tightens, fingers digging into her skin with a barely controlled need. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his heart pounding against hers. "Penelope," he groans, his voice ragged, barely holding onto the last threads of restraint.

She leans in, pressing her lips to the pulse point at his neck, feeling it race under her kiss. Her body shifts again, her hips rocking slightly.

Colin's body responds immediately. His hands slide up her back, tracing the curve of her spine with a possessive touch. His breaths come in short, ragged bursts as he struggles to keep in control, her teasing touch unraveling him with each passing second. "Yes," he growls, his voice low and filled with heat. Let's do that."

Penelope shifts, her body slipping from his lap as he stands. Her fingers reach out to graze him one last time, but instead, he props her back up on top of the desk; he steps between her legs, his body moving forward as though drawn by a force he can't resist.

He enters her in one swift, fluid motion, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure. She arches her back, curving to meet him. "I said I want you on top," she breathes, the words half teasing, half commanding.

Colin's face twists into a smirk, his eyes filled with unrestrained hunger. "I need fuel for the walk over to the bed," he replies, his tone ragged and filled with a desperate need for control. 

With a low moan, he thrusts deeper, the sensation making them both shudder. Colin's hands grip her hips, pulling her closer; the desire to lose himself in her is overwhelming. He can still taste her as he licks his lips.

She could feel the strength in his arms, the steady beat of his heart against her palm when she rested her hand on his chest. The softness of his hair, the roughness of his stubble, the firm lines of his shoulders—everything.

"I dreamt about you last night, and it was incredible, but then I woke up, and you weren't there beside me," Colin admits like a confession. His face hovers near her chest, the warmth from her skin beckoning him closer.

"I dreamt about you last night and woke up dripping wet," Penelope replies, her voice a sultry whisper as she wraps her legs around him.  

Colin lets out a soft grunt, overwhelmed by the admission. His fingers tangle in her hair as he frees one hand from her hip, brushing back the damp strands clinging to her forehead.

"God, Pen," he gasps.

"Give it a tug," she instructs the words sending a thrill through him. He complies, gently tugging her hair, feeling the way it elicits a soft gasp from her lips.

"You're unbelievable… you feel–" he mutters. 

"How do I feel?" she asks, her mouth brushing against his throat, her fingers tracing paths through the hair on his chest. 

"Soft," as his grip on her hips tightens, "and moist," as he grinds against her, "and hot and…breathy," as his mouth lingers near hers.

Colin starts to pull out, but Penelope digs her heels into the back of his thighs, pushing against him. "No, don't stop."

"I thought you wanted me on top," he murmurs, his voice teasing. "To feel the weight of me on you…"

"I do, but—"

He thrusts back into her, cutting her off. "You want everything," he rasps, one hand pressing just above her pelvic bone with his palm. 

"I want everything," she whispers back, her voice catching on a breath.

He begins to move again, slow and deliberate, savoring every gasp and tremor from her body. His hand, still on her lower abdomen, feels every flutter and pulse beneath his touch, driving him to the edge.

"God, Pen," he murmurs, "You drive me mad."

Her nails dig into his back, urging him on,  "Then go mad," she breathes against his lips, "Show me."

With a growl, Colin complies, his rhythm quickening. His mouth finds hers, capturing her moans as their kisses grow frantic, desperate. He feels her tighten around him, her body arching into his as he shifts slightly, angling his hips to find that perfect spot within her.

Her head falls back, a choked cry escaping her lips as he hits it just right. "Colin!" she gasps her voice a broken plea, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"That's it," he encourages, his own control fraying. "I've got you." 

"Colin," she mumbles.

"Pen," driving into her one last time, sending them both spiraling over the edge.

Colin pulls back, slipping out of her with a slow, deliberate movement that makes Penelope gasp softly. He takes her hand, his grip firm but tender, and gently tugs her forward. "Come with me," his voice low, "I want to be able to see you." He leads her toward the bedroom, the soft glow of the lantern casting light across the room.

As they reach the edge of the bed, Colin turns to face her, his hands moving to her waist as he slowly guides her back onto the sheets.

Penelope watches him, a flush rising to her cheeks as he positions her in the center of the bed, his eyes tracing over her body. Before joining her, they lay on their side facing each other.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. One hand props up his head as the other caresses her back, trailing slowly down to her hips and lower, lingering as if savoring every curve. Meanwhile, one of Penelope's arms rests under a pillow, and the other settles on Colin's waist, fingers gently gripping as she leans into his touch.

"What books are in our private library instead of downstairs?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Works deemed a bit too… daring for polite society. The ones I deem inappropriate for anyone but your eyes," he replies.

"Oh? Such as?" she presses.

"Well, there's some of the classical works. Ovid's Ars Amatoria , for instance. It's poetry, technically," he says, his eyes locking onto hers with a knowing look, "but it's far from the kind of poetry you'd read to your mother."

Penelope lets out a soft laugh.

Colin shifts, thinking for a moment. "I have a translation of The Decameron by Boccaccio. Scandalous in parts. It's... an exploration of human nature, let's say."

"There's more, of course," he continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I managed to get my hands on an old copy of Fanny Hill —don't ask how. And then there are a few manuscripts that were never officially published.

"Will the travel journals of a Mr. Colin Bridgerton be amongst the collection?"

"Perhaps," he replies thoughtfully, "although they may need some revisions. I plan to ask my muse for guidance and be my editor."

"And who might that be?" she asks, a smile forming.

"You," he says simply, his gaze intense as it meets hers.

"Not your French—"

He cuts her off, his voice firm and unwavering. "Nothing compares to this. Nothing is like the inspiration you provide me. I've been quite the prolific writer since our first kiss. You should revisit the journal, take a peek anytime you want, into my endless thoughts of you, my desire for you, how you spur my imagination, both mystical and here on earth."

"Can you read me the passage of our first kiss?" she asks softly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Okay," he agrees, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Colin climbs out of bed and walks over to the private library. He opens the drawer of his desk and retrieves his journal, feeling a surge of warmth as he runs his fingers over its worn cover. Turning back, he heads toward the bed, crawling in beside Penelope. This time, Colin sits up with the journal in one hand, while Penelope shifts, resting her head on his chest as her makeshift pillow, her eyes glancing up at him expectantly.

Using his right hand, Colin carefully flips through the pages, finding the entry. As he settles on the right spot, his thumb grazes Penelope's cheek, his fingers trailing gently along her skin. She closes her eyes briefly before looking up at him again.

"Here it is," he murmurs, his gaze flicking to hers before dropping to the words he had so carefully penned.

I still cannot fathom what happened last night. I write this now with a hand that trembles, still feeling the warmth of her lips on mine, the taste of her lingering in my soul. Penelope.  We were in the garden—of all places, that damned garden I've walked through a hundred times, thinking it mundane. But not last night. Last night, it became enchanted, a place beyond time. The moon hung low, casting a soft glow on the roses, and there she stood, more radiant than I had ever allowed myself to notice. Her eyes, wide and uncertain, drew me in. And for the first time, I allowed myself to see her fully—the depth, the beauty, the quiet strength. One moment, we were speaking, her voice like honey in the night air, and then she asks for a kiss and I was reaching for her. My hand cupped her cheek, and she looked up at me with such surprise and hope that I swear it nearly broke me. I could feel the tremor of her shoulders, the way her eyes searched mine as if seeking some answer I could only give in one way. It was soft at first, barely a brush of lips. And that was it. I was lost. I pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, needing to show her everything I'd held back for so long. Her lips parted under mine, and she sighed, a sound so beautiful I felt it echo in my bones. I can still hear that tiny gasp of breath, like a secret shared in the dark. She tasted of tea and something sweet, something that was wholly Penelope. I paused for a moment, intending to kiss her again, but something made me stop. I wanted to look into her eyes to see if she was just as affected by this kiss as I was. Was this shattering her as it was shattering me? When I finally drew back, I took her face in, flushed and radiant. Her cheeks were a deep pink, her eyes glazed. And I... I was undone. But then, she did something I hadn't expected. She blinked at me, her lips still parted, and whispered, "Thank you." Before I could respond and decipher the meaning behind her words, she turned and ran. Ran. I stood there, dazed, my heart still pounding as I watched her disappear.  It took me a full moment to process what had just happened, to register the emptiness left in her wake. Thank you? For what? For making me crave more than I had ever allowed myself to dream of? She was gone, and I was left alone, I don't know how long I stood there, wrapped in that moment, but it felt endless and all too fleeting. I've kissed before, or so I thought, but nothing compares to this. To her. I walked away last night, my mind spinning and now, here I sit, trying to put what feels impossible to capture into words.

"You're astonishing, Colin," Penelope breathes, her eyes wide with admiration as she gazes at him. A hint of vulnerability flickers across her face as she looks down, biting her lip. "I ran because I was embarrassed," she admits softly.

"Embarrassed?" Colin echoes, tilting his head, his eyes searching her face for an answer.

"That I asked for a kiss," she confesses, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

He shakes his head, a gentle smile curving his lips. "Braver than me," he murmurs, lifting her chin with a tender touch so their eyes meet.

"I felt foolish," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you still feel foolish?” he asks softly, his thumb gently caressing her chin. “Knowing how it affected me?”

She shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "No."

"That warms my heart," Colin responds, his voice softening.

"I'll keep your cock warm, too," she responds boldly.

"Penelope Featherington!" he exclaims, shock evident on his face. But almost instantly, the surprise melts into an awestruck grin. He grabs her, pulling her close for a kiss, his lips hovering just a breath away. Then, he pauses, his eyes gleaming with something more profound, "Penelope Bridgerton," he settles on, kissing her with all the tenderness and passion she inspires.

Penelope's fingers brush along his arm as she settles in, whispering in his ear, "I want you."

Colin kneels on the bed, positioning himself between her legs once more. His hands move to her thighs, gently parting them as he leans down, his lips brushing against her skin in a series of slow, teasing kisses as Colin moves to claim her once more. 

He enters her slowly this time, his eyes locked on hers as he watches her react to every movement, every sensation. The rhythm they find is different now—unhurried. Colin's gaze flickers over her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and how her body moves beneath his. 

He watches her face, captivated by every expression that crosses it—the pleasure, the need, the trust.

[darkeraurora]

Nice Manners

Ghost handing out some discipline. Minors DNI, age in bio or I will block you.

Word count: 1579

CW: hard dom, very NSFW, MDNI

Taking a small break from my other writing to get this oneshot done. It's been rotting my brain for weeks - now you guys can have it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You’re gonna make me cum too soon, Darlin',” Ghost’s gravelly voice warns.

Not only does she not heed his warning, she opens her throat and slides his cock further down until his short curly hairs tickle her lips. Her tongue flattened along the underside, pressing and caressing to give him more pleasure.

With a deep growl Ghost empties himself down her throat. After the final jerk of his cock between her soft lips he glares down at her with a scowl.

She rocks back on her heels to stand but Ghost pulls her forward, laying her across his legs. “Someone has trouble following orders,” he tsks at her. (smack) his large hand comes down hard onto her bare skin.

“Bad girls need to be disciplined.”  (smack)   Two of his fingers slide along her slit, gathering her juices.

“My goodness, so wet already Love.” (smack)  “Such a mess you’re making.”

Removing his fingers from her, Ghost brings them forward to her panting mouth. (smack) “Clean up your mess, like a good girl.” (smack)

Ghost’s clean fingers grip around the front of her throat with a light squeeze. With his other hand, he begins to rub fast circles over her clit. “Are you going to be a good girl who listens now?”

“Yes.”

(smack) “HOW do you address an officer?” Ghost demands, forcing his fingers into her pussy.

“Y-yes sir.”

(smack)   “I don’t believe you.”

“I-I’ll be good s-sir.”

“Do you want to cum?” Ghost asks, seeing that she’s about to squirm out of his lap.

“Yes please.”

Ghost ignores her. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks and she tries to hold her orgasm back.

“Please may I cum?”

Silence.

She’s almost sobbing at this point.

“Please sir may I cum?”

Ghost withdraws his dripping fingers from her and begins to rapidly slap her slit. “I heard you the first time Love.” She begins to yelp, more tears falling.

After several more minutes of slapping her clit Ghost pulls her by her throat, bringing her head closer to him. “Spread your legs for me. Be my good girl and…. maybe… I’ll let you cum.”

She obeys immediately, spreading her legs widely as he ordered, begging him incessantly to let her cum.

Ghost leans down to her, latching his mouth onto the sensitive skin near her ear. Licking, biting, and sucking. His hand caressing the smooth, reddened skin of her backside.

At her continued whining and begging, Ghost grips her throat tightly as he plunges four of fingers into her. “Beg harder, Love,” he growls menacingly into her ear.

Finally having judged that she's begged him enough, “Do you deserve to cum?”

“Y-y-es s-sir, I’ve b-been good-d, please l-let me cum!”

“Not convinced.”

She groans deeply as he drops his grip on her throat, her head falling back down. She can now only utter unintelligible noises.

(smack)   “Use your words, Love.”

“Please, please sir! I’m-I’m your good girl! Please let me come for you sir!”

Fucking hell.

Ripping her head back up to him, his lips find her pulse in her neck, gripping throat harder as he curls his fingers her inside while pressing on down hard onto her clit with his thumb. “Cum then,” he commands.

With a scream and a gush of fluid she at last shatters in his hands. As he removes her from his lap she collapses onto the floor in a trembling heap. Legs useless.

Ghost is, of course, not without compassion and lifts her up onto the bed. “Very good girl.” Laying her on her back and jerking her thighs apart, spreading her widely for him. “Good girls need a reward.”

She’s still a panting, boneless mess. Ghost opens his fly and frees his thick uncut cock. After a single hard slap to her swollen folds, he plunges himself into her. Burying his cock to the hilt, nudging her cervix. He fucks her at a fierce, brutal pace until his balls empty into her.

Pulling out of her, Ghost sees his semen begin to leak from her and dribble down her cheek. With his finger he scrapes it off her skin and pushes it back inside of her hole. When it refuses to stay in he lifts her from the bed, slinging her about as he turn to sit down, placing her back on her stomach over his lap. Her head and arms dangling near his feet, legs on either side of his hips, her pink cum-filled hole right in front of him.

With thorough care, Ghost continues to collect the seed that escaped and force it back into her. “Now now, Love,” he gently chastises, “Keep being a good girl and keep it inside of you.”

He caresses the stinging red skin of her cheeks, gripping and squeezing the muscle, watching her tender skin quiver under his touch. A large finger slides into her, making her pink hole brim with his white seed. Down by his feet she begins to whimper.

Her pulsating walls threaten to push his cum out of her.

(smack) “What did I say?” he snaps at her.

“To keep your seed inside me,” she responds meekly.

(smack) (smack)

“S-sir!” she corrects herself.

His fingertips trace along the pink lips in front of him, occasionally flicking and pinching her swollen clit. “Such beautiful holes you have, Love.” A finger pushes into her smaller, tighter hole. She yelps at the unexpected sensation.

(smack)   “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good, then take what I give you and relax Love.” His fingers slide in and out of her holes as she trembles and shakes at the feeling. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you… sir.”

(smack)   “Do better.”

“You sir! I belong to you! I’m your good girl!”

“Yet you were a bad girl earlier?”

“Yes sir. I was.”

“How were you bad?”

“I didn’t listen to you sir.”

“You did not,” (smack)  “obey me,” he corrects.

“N-no sir, I disobeyed you sir.”

“But you’re sorry and ready to obey now?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry for disobeying. I won’t do it again.”

(smack) “Say thank you.”

“Thank you s-sir. Thank you for disciplining me sir.”

Ghost only hummed in response, fingers thrusting in and out of her holes. Her cheeks jiggling due to his pace.

“S-sir?”

“Yes?” he replies curiously.

“May I cum please sir?”

“My girl needs to come already?” Ghost croons in mock surprise.

“Yes sir, may I please cum sir.”

“So polite, of course you can.”

He increases the pace and depth of his fingers, ruthlessly pulling another orgasm from her. Pulling his fingers from her, Ghost spreads her pussy open with his thumbs. Watching the convulsing walls of her core filled with his seed in fascination.

(smack) (smack) “Did you forget your manners already?” Ghost snarls down at her. (smack) “What!” (smack) “Do!” (smack) “You!” (smack) “SAY!”

“Tha-thank you s-sir…” she cries for him

(smack) (smack) (smack) (smack) “For what?!”

“Hah! Ha, ha… Thank you sir… thank you for fucking me.” she sobs.

(smack) (smack) (smack) (smack) “Do,” (smack) “BETTER.”

“Thank you sir for fucking your cum into me! Your-your cock felt… so good! Please sir… fuck me again?”

His fingers slide back into her holes. “Fuck you again?”

“Yes please sir… please put your cock inside me again sir.”

“Desperate?”

“Yes sir, I-I’m desperate for your cock sir.”

A rumble reverberates low in his chest as Ghost narrows his eyes at her finger-filled pussy. “You just don’t know what to do without my cock, do you?”

���N-no sir. I-I love when you fuck me with your big cock and fill me with your seed sir.”

(smack) “Tell me,” (smack) “what are you good for?”

“S-sir, I-I’m… I’m for you to fuck… anytime you please.”

Ghost returns his fingers to her tightest hole, pinching her clit with his other hand.  “Hmm, go on.”

“I’m here to obey you sir. To be your good girl and… and spread my legs for you. I’m holes for you to fuck anytime you please sir.”

(smack) “What else?”

“I’m… I’m here to please you sir. I-I’m here for you… you to use… for your pleasure.”

Ghost leans forward and bites onto the raw skin of her cheeks. “What a very good girl you are.”

“Th-thank you sir. I’m… only your good girl.”

His fingers press hard onto her sweet spots. “Yes you are, aren’t you? Mine to fuck as I please.”

“Yes sir, my holes are… only for you, I’m yours to use… to be filled with your cum… to suck your big cock… Anything you want. Please sir… please fuck me again.”

Ghost grabs her upper arms and hoists her body upright. “Interlock your arms my pet.”  Holding her up with one hand and swinging her around to let her knees rest on the mattress, Ghost pulls out his engorged cock with his free hand and lines himself up with her smaller hole before impaling her onto him. “Such a good girl.”

“I believe you’ve earned a reward.” Ghost commends her once he has filled her body and dropped her onto the floor.

“Th-thank you s-sir,” she mewls.

Ghost opens the door to his room and calls out into the hallway. “Johnny – care to have a taste of my little one? She’s well broken but forgets her manners sometimes I’m afraid.” Soap saunters into the room, looking down at her figure laying on the floor. “Enjoy mate.” Ghost fist bumps Soap on his shoulder, listening to Johnny smirk and unbuckle his belt as he walks out of the room.

[peanutbutter-doodles]

Let's Dance, Then 18+ Mdni

Characters : Paul Stanley, Velvet Von ragnar.

Pairing : Stardemon/Vonstar

Wc: 10K

⚠️ Contains: Porn with Plot, Meet n Fuck, Gangbang, Masturbation, oral sex, face fucking, vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, fisting, anal sex, Demon fucking, Deal with the devil, Makeouts, Cum inflation, spanking, smacking, Demon Cocks, Cloning/Shadows, degradation, dirty talk, fondling, Cream Pie, knotting, use of a unholy object, Markings, Monster fucking, nudity, religious themes, Ambiguous/open ending, priests, dumbification, darkish themes, Cum play, Aftercare, Holes gaping. Ask to tag! oh and the full nelson!

Summary: ‘’What if…i…’’ He murmured, swallowing. 

Taking a deep breath.

‘’Want it, somewhere where only you could see it?’’

‘’Only me? She chuckled, menacingly. ‘’You don't want anyone to know, don’t you? If i’m understanding correctly, that is…’’

‘’yes..Mistress.’’ He said, Velvet’s cock beated. ‘’But it’s not for the reason, you might think…Lady Von…’’

‘’Then, what is the reason? Hmm? What is the reason you came and trespassed my room at such an hour? It would have alerted the sheep that one of the lambs had left the coo and trampled onto territory that’s unable to be crossed unless…..

They lock eyes with each other.

‘’Your the one, who’s been following me…’’

READTHERESTONAO3 - Have some tissues and a cross, cause oh boy...

it's hotter than hell!

Tagging: @angelbambisworld @elrohare @2hotintheshade @vinniesasslicker1 @genesstankycodpiece @starry-eyed-never-satisfied @speckster @sagii24 @sluttery-withoutshame @tanookikiss and anyone else who reads this!

I always held back when i write and i've been feeling more pent up than usual, so for this...i didn't hold back on this...so be warned...

the gloves are off on this one, as well if your interested in seeing the Kiss Masterlist - Link

I hope you enjoy this, You sinners!

oh and comments plus reblogs are deeply apprieciated!

Love, Butters ^V^

[turnupswritessometimes]

Just for This Moment - SidLink - Oneshot

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50834488

Title: Just for This Moment

Ship: Link/Sidon (Legend of Zelda)

Word Count: 5,253

Summary: Link turned, feeling as though he was stuck in honey, to look at him. He had to keep staring, his chest hurting, until that grin slowly dropped. Until Sidon tilted his head to one side, and his tone became concerned, "What is the matter?" Link bit his lip. They didn't have time for this, not with everything else happening – everything else was so much more important. And yet, his stomach felt twisted in and around itself, and if he fought like this, he would make a mistake. So, he forced his hands to move. To sign out 'Are you avoiding me?'

Before, Link and Sidon were - something. Now - they're not. They both have feelings about that.

They stood in front of the four great jugs at the temple. One emptied a torrent of gleaming water; the others dripped sludge. There were four more locks to open; to save the domain. The domain was suffering, the Zora was suffering; Zelda was missing; Hyrule was suffering. Link needed to move. He had to stop this, and save everyone.

But he couldn't.

He stood, rooted to the ground, water dripping from his hair down the back of his neck, and under his amrour.

"Let's go, my friend."

It was Sidon, next to him. Perky and grinning and already looking around him for the first lock.

Link turned, feeling as though he was stuck in honey, to look at him. He had to keep staring, his chest hurting, until that grin slowly dropped. Until Sidon tilted his head to one side, and his tone became concerned, "What is the matter?"

Link bit his lip. They didn't have time for this, not with everything else happening – everything else was so much more important. And yet, his stomach felt twisted in and around itself, and if he fought like this, he would make a mistake.

So. he forced his hands to move. To sign out 'Are you avoiding me?'

Sidon followed. Blinked, as though he was stuck in the same honey Link was. "Why would you think that?"

Link tilted his head to the side, his hands on his hips. He was very aware a chuchu was behind them, rolling towards them, and he’d have to deal with it soon.

His hands moved slightly faster. 'You wanted to split up?'

"It was sensible, to cover more ground." And yet, Sidon wasn't meeting his eye. He stared at Link's hands.

'You—' Link faltered. The chuchu was getting closer. Its wobbles were audible, and irritating. 'Didn't want to investigate together.'

"I needed to stay, to purify the water."

‘Others could have.'

"I have a duty to the Zora. My people."

The chuchu was even closer now. Was bubbling and rearing, getting ready to attack. Not really a threat. Yet, Link was growing more and more frustrated, his fingers moving erratically, the frustration in his stomach growing.

He reached behind him, drawing the Zora spear he'd burrowed from the city. He spun, lashing out, swinging it down to whack the chuchu. It burst satisfyingly under the silver.

Link forced himself to take a breath. Sidon had drawn his own weapon, looking between Link and the remains of the chuchu. Confused.

Link put his own weapon back, to free his hands. They shook, and he hated that. But he needed to continue: 'You have a fiancee.'

They stared at each other. There was only the sound of rushing water. A distant cry of seabirds. Everything smelt like fresh rain. The air was cold up here, but Link's cheeks felt hot. He clenched his fists, taking a breath, ready to turn around and start finding one of the locks. If he fought, concentrated on using the powers his new arm gave him; then he couldn't sign. They couldn't talk. That would be better.

Sidon took a step towards him, which felt like approaching thunder. Link stepped a foot backwards, ready to run, or ready to fight.

"I thought—" Sidon seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Clenched and unclenched his own hands on his own spear. "You already knew the Zora custom of arranged marriages."

Link had, of course. But back before all of this, it had felt like a faraway thing. He'd been able to kid himself that it wouldn't really happen. That he had more time.

He had lost so much time. Again.

His arm hurt. Not his actual arm, but the one that was missing. It was a peculiar feeling, to feel something that had already been replaced. But he felt the pain of his own, beneath it, especially when it was cold, like this.

His heart was racing. He wanted to fight something. Needed to fight something, to stop himself thinking about this.

He forced his fingers into words. 'I know.'

"You were gone for weeks." Sidon took another step forward. "You were missing."

Link's hands shook. Too much to keep signing. He looked up. His hair hung in his eyes, but he didn't care. Only met Sidon's eyes through the strands. They were concerned and confused, but mostly sad; betraying everything he felt.

He wasn't sure his sign of 'I know,' was even legible this time. It was foolish to even try explaining further. That he knew the Zora used arranged marriages, that he knew he had gone missing again, that he didn't want to keep disappearing.

That he had known – knew – whatever relationship they had before could never amount to anything, because he was a Knight, Sidon was a Prince.

It was a familiar story. A too familiar one. Because everyone he’d ever loved was royalty.

He was trapped in a story where he could only ever love from afar. It sounded romantic in poems.

A hand grazed his shoulder. He flinched, involuntarily. The hand stayed, as a reassuring weight.

"My friend – Link – I am a coward." Sidon’s voice softened. "I did avoid you, because I was scared of facing you, especially about this. About Yona. I knew it would hurt you."

It did, but did it hurt Sidon as well?

How could Link ask that, especially now, when they were trying to save a kingdom. He was selfish to ask. What were his own feelings compared to Hyrule. He tugged at his scabbard, to feel the weight of his borrowed sword. To remind him of what he was doing here, and what he needed to do. It steadied his hands enough that he could sign again.

'I understand.' He thought about apologising, for bringing it up with everything that was happening. Instead, he signed, 'We need to find those switches.'

Sidon stared for another long moment, examining Link's expression. Could he see behind the mask of determination and practically? Of course Link was hurt; he still cared. And he wanted Sidon too, as well. What had happened between them wasn't insignificant; not something to be ignored.

He held those amber eyes – those eyes that always seemed pinned him like a butterfly – for a moment more, before he turned away. Sidon called after him. Link walked more determinedly, tugging out his sword. That was the useful part about talking with his hands; if they were full, he couldn’t communicate. It put an end to this conversation.

Perhaps that made him as much a coward as Sidon was.

*

It had started after liberating the Vah Ruta. Link had stayed in the Zorra domain on his return from the elephant. Directly afterwards, of course, he'd slept for twelve hours straight in a waterbed. Waking up from that hadn't been dissimilar from waking up after one hundred years.

The world was dark. It was after midnight, and he filled his empty stomach with stew, fruit and honey cakes, before going down to one of the pools. He’d washed the blood from his injuries, but his muscles ached for a good soak.

The bathing pools were beautiful, at night. The silver moonlight cast a halo over the water; glinted off the silver rails of Zora's domain. The sea snails clung to the inside of the pools, like shooting stars that had fallen to earth.

And even more beautiful, thought Link, was the Zora prince emerging from one of the pools. Sidon looked up the ceiling, and sighed. Silver water dripped down smooth skin; dark in the low lighting.

Then he noticed Link, at the edge of the pool. His amber eyes glinted in the moonlight, fangs flashing.

Link’s heart thudded. The Zora Prince had grown handsome, in these last hundred years. It felt impossible to ignore that. He stood here now, remembering how it had felt to ride on his back; feeling strong muscles clench under him. Hearing Sidon’s voice shouting words of encouragement that made him feel like the hero he most certainly wasn’t. (Not anymore.)

"Link – my friend—" Sidon insisted on addressing him like that, as though 'my friend' was a valued position at court. "I feared we'd lost you, once more."

Link found himself smiling. It was easier to smile down at the marble floor, than to think too much about the water trickling down Sidon's bare chest. He signed 'I'm alright. Just tired.'

"Very tired, it seems." Sidon moved through the pool. Getting closer. Link wished he wouldn't, because it would be harder to ignore him; to ignore the heat beginning to grow through his core; ignore that he wanted to stare at the Zora prince, like a fish on a hook. But he also wanted to be closer; was desperate to be closer. "I am glad you are feeling better now - I have so much I wish to show you, now the rains have stopped."

Link could not look up. He could hear the drip from Sidon's fins on the marble. Surely, he was smiling that bright, easy smile; his eyes glinting; ready to take Link by the hand to lead him around. Perhaps even offer to swim with Link on his back, again. His heart seized, just at the thought. If he looked up, he would surely take the offer.

'I have to leave.'

"Surely not." Sidon's hand reached for his, grazing the back of his with his claws, before Link caught shifted away, subtly. That would only make these feelings worse. "I am aware of the dire situation over the rest of Hyrule, but surely you may stay another day. At least until the morning."

It would be easier, to leave now, before anyone knew. It would make this easier. It would make him think less about Sidon, with his muscled arms, muscled stomach, his bright smile - the way his silver jewellery sat on his crimson, smooth skin.

Link shook his head, taking half a step back. His fingers were poised to repeat the signs that he had to go, but Sidon did catch his wrist, that time. Just lightly. He could pull away, if he wanted to.

He should.

He let himself be caught.

"Please, wait until the morning." Sidon's voice was soft, half as though he didn't want to wake anyone else – half as though it was just for Link's ears. "If only so you are not ambushed by stakoblins."

Link looked up, through strands of gold, finally meeting those amber eyes. They were concerned, the polite concern of a friend; but there was something else, underneath. Something deeper. Something that could be desire, as he looked over Link.

Link's breath stuck in his throat, as though he had been hit. There was still that steady dripping from Sidon's bare skin; sea snails casting stars in this private cavern of theirs.

He looked to where Sidon's hand circled his wrist. Bigger than his own, and yet – so gentle.

Link nodded.

Sidon's voice remained soft, "Splendid!"

He took Link's hand in both of his own, squeezing gently. Link couldn't sign properly, with one of his hands trapped, but that was better, in a way. It meant he didn't need to think about what words to use. He put his own over Sidon's. Nodded again, staring upwards. Bit his lip.

Noticed Sidon watching that, his eyes flashing like a shark's.

There was a moment that like it was ready to burst like a ripe berry. Link took a shaking breath, his feet aching to arch onto tiptoe.

Sidon released his hand. Abruptly. Took a step to the side, and said, hurriedly, "But, of course, you wanted to use the pools. I shall not bother you."

'It's no bother.' His hands worked quickly. 'You can stay.'

Another pause that was bursting with - this something. This something that had steadily grown since they'd met, since they'd fought alongside each other, this something that Link wouldn’t allow himself to look at.

"I do not wish to impose." And yet Sidon had not moved.

'Stay.' Link signed. He didn't look away and didn’t let himself think. 'Please.'

So, Sidon stayed. And Link wished he hadn't insisted, when he shed his quiver and sword belt, lying them on the marble. When he was working on loosening his wrist guard, and was all too aware of Sidon watching him.

No. Pretending not to watch him. His eyes darted away when Link glanced across.

His stomach squirmed, and yet he found his mouth twitching. He felt giddy that he wasn't the only one nervous. Not the only one aware of this.

Link pulled off his boots, leaving them in a heap next to his weapons and armour. His hands too oddly light, as he moved them, 'We can share the pool.'

As though there were not three. They didn't have to share the one. But sharing the one meant they would be close.

Sidon's voice was faint. "Very well."

And he stepped back into the water, almost gingerly. Let the silvery water envelop him again.

That was easier.

Link shrugged his tunic, his mail, his undershirt, off. The air was cool, almost moist against his bare shoulders and chest. He hesitated a moment, before stepping out of his trousers too. After all, without a belt, they weren't much use.

Then there was nothing else. He slipped into the water, and felt goosepimples burst across his skin. It was cold, but the cold was welcome on his flushing cheeks and chest.

He had to keep an elbow on the side to keep himself comfortably above water; the pool was too deep for him to stand properly in. He rested his chin on his arm, and pretended not to be staring at Sidon. At how the moonlight made his profile look; the shape of his dorsal fin. He looked like a prince.

Sidon pretended not to be looking at Link, in return. He didn't want to think about what he looked like; at how visible the scars lacing across his stomach and shoulders were – did they also shine silver?

"My sister—" Sidon paused. "You and my sister, I understand you were close?"

Link's stomach clenched. He pressed his lips together, an aching pain washing through him, as he thought of Mipha. The feelings were all fresh and raw. His fingers hovered, as though they were reluctant to sign.

'We couldn't act on how we felt.' The water lapped at him, punctuating the silence. 'She was a princess, and I was – am – a knight.'

Their relationship could not happen. Mipha would not let it. She was a future ruler, and would always act like one. It was refined to letters and longing stares. Refined to afternoons together, to hands grazing and imagining something more. Probably because imagining left the idea of the romance perfect; something from a poem.

"Of course." Sidon ducked his chin, and his jewellery sparkled like stars. "That's understandable."

'I miss her,' Link continued.

"As do I." There was another one of those pauses. Sidon shifted closer, in the water, and a drip from his fin fell in the water between them. It felt loud. "But I have had longer than you to mourn."

It still hurt. All of the friends he'd lost left a raging wound inside him. If he thought about it - them - for too long, then he would sink to the ground and be unable to fight. He allowed himself a measured sigh, then tugged the tie from his hair. He let it fall, just grazing the water, before pushing his hair back.

Sidon shifted even closer, and Link did the same. Found himself taking Sidon's arms, just for something to hold on to. And Sidon stiffened under him, but didn't pull away. In fact, his hands twisted, to hold Link in return. A reassuring hold.

He pressed himself closer. Even without the hundred years of sleep, it had been a long time since Link had been close to someone. Had been held by someone. He missed that feeling. His palms trailed up Sidon's forearms, his gaze watching the moonlight on his pale chest. His skin was smooth, and warm. His heart raced.

Sidon's hand curled under Link's chin, gently tilting it upwards. He was examining him, with awestruck eyes. He moved again, very slowly, brushing Link's hair from his cheek. His claw grazed the shell of his ear, and sent a tingling shiver down the side of his neck.

"You are beautiful," Sidon murmured. "Link."

And the way Sidon said it made him believe it. He barely dared to breathe, but tilted his cheek into Sidon's touch. Did dare to touch his fingertips against Sidon's chest. This something was on the very verge of bursting, of overflowing, and he didn't think he could stop it now. Not now that he’d lost his armour.

He pressed his other hand against Sidon's forearm, pulling himself further out the water. It ran off his hair, down his back. He was fixated by those amber eyes – by the suggestion of fangs in Sidon's mouth – by Sidon's mouth. Kissing someone. Someone allowing him to kiss them.

Sidon caught Link's waist, to help his journey. Lifted him until he was a hair's breadth away, and then paused.

Link continued. Kissed Sidon, and felt that something between them burst. It was a warm, exciting something, that sent sparks to chase away the goosebumps. And it was easier to focus on that than the hurt inside him.

When they pulled away, Sidon whispered, "We were discussing my late sister."

Link pulled away enough to look at him, his hands settling on Sidon's shoulders. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. Trying to convey the complicated feelings in him with that look. He knew. He mourned her. He needed to be touched. To feel something other than grief. Needed to act on this, whilst he was allowed.

Perhaps Sidon understood. He searched Link's eyes, then focused on his mouth. He pulled him close again, kissing him gently – gingerly. As though he would break. Link kissed him more forcefully in return. He wrapped his legs around Sidon's waist, opening his mouth against him.

He felt warmth, thawing him from the inside out. Felt Sidon's hand in his hair, tangling it in his fingers, his other hand firm on the small of Link's back. A fang caught his lip, not quite breaking skin, but enough to send a shiver through him.

That was how it – they – began.

Link didn't sleep that night. Neither of them did. They stayed wrapped up in each other; entangled; entwined. When the sun began to rise, turning the silver to gold, and the horizon to gold, they sat and watched the sky from the pool room. Sidon leant against a pillar, with Link in his lap, his cheek against Sidon's smooth chest. Sidon's arm was around him, and their legs tangled together. He could hear Sidon’s heartbeat under his ear; reminding him they were both alive. He loved that sound.

"Can we act on this?" Sidon asked. His voice was soft, and it made Link think of the sounds he had made whilst they had been entangled. The low keens that sent sparks through him. "Have matters changed enough to allow for this?"

Link took a moment to answer. Traced another pattern over Sidon's forearm, before he sat up properly, to sign.

'It's your decision.' Because Sidon was the prince. It was his reputation; his father who would take issue. Because Sidon had everything to lose, and Link was just a knight. 'The court may not approve.'

Sidon caught Link's hands. They were trembling, he realised. Because surely this couldn’t happen. But Sidon was smiling. A beautiful smile, in the dawn.

"Then the court do not need to know, my dear."

It made Link grin, like he was struck by a shooting star, and he squeezed Sidon's fingers in return, almost giggling. He ducked his chin, but it was caught. He was led back to looking at those warm, amber eyes. Eyes like a bonfire.

Sidon opened his mouth to say more, but whatever it was didn't make it past his lips. He leant forward, instead, and kissed him. His lips stung; a few cuts had been left in their wake. It was the same kind of sting from bathing wounds in salt water; it felt purifying.

So he kissed Sidon back.

And it seemed wonderful.

*

Now, Sidon was king.

Sidon was king, and Link had stood at his side during the ceremony. On a balcony that overlooked the statue of the two of them; with a ring on his finger that showed their bond. But he wasn’t Sidon’s fiancée.

She stood next to him.

They'd saved the domain, again – had fought side by side, again, would likely have a statue built, again. And things would go back to the way they were before. Professional. Link was an ambassador, an advisor, a knight of the realm, sworn to Princess Zelda’s side, whilst Sidon was king of the Zora.

So things wouldn't go back to the way there were before this latest calamity, because Sidon had to rule. With his fiancée. Another aspect that wasn't the same.

He could not have an affair with a knight.

Link smiled and clapped and bowed at the right times in the ceremony. Smiled when Sidon's fiancée, Yona, took his hand and said, "I'm so happy, aren't you, Sir Link?"

She had his hands in her grip, so he couldn't use words. He could only nod. Sidon was determinedly not looking at him. Avoiding him, again.

There was, of course, a huge celebration, over the whole domain. A great feast with music and dancing and displays of skill. All Link really wanted to do was sleep and wait a few days for his wounds to stop aching quite so much, before he moved on. It was clear that whatever they had before was over. But he had to attend this, as a final farewell. So he stood by the silvery rails, in his reclaimed armour, trying not to collapse from exhaustion.

Yona found him there. She smiled. "I must thank you again, for helping us. For helping Sidon. You gave him the courage to take his spot as King."

Link looked over at Sidon. Taller, even than the other Zora, the moonlight glinting from his crown, and his fangs. He was laughing, conversing congenially. Like a comet had landed in the middle of the domain.

'It is my duty,' Link's hands replied for him. Smiling felt like too much effort, but at least that made him seem solemn, and serious. Like a knight of Hyrule should be.

"Of course." Yona dipped her head. "But you're so busy, with searching for the princess…"

They had seen Zelda, at the temple. The Zora had seen her. She'd seemingly been behind the pollution. It didn't make sense, and it wasn't the only strange event she seemed to be behind. Link saw Zelda everywhere, but was no closer to finding her.

'Zelda would want me to help those who need it,' Link signed. And that was true. Whatever else was happening, she would want him to help everyone else first. Zelda would wait. She always did.

"Yes, I'm sure." Yona still smiled, and her voice was soft. "I hope you find the princess soon."

Link nodded his gratitude. He didn't like to think too much about the larger situation; about the days which were slipping by without her. It was worse than knowing she was waiting for him at the castle. Instead, she was everywhere and nowhere and his stomach twisted into tourniquets if he truly thought things through. It made him want to dash out on his horse now and keep searching, but his body needed rest.

Sidon noticed them, of course, and his gaze was measured. Didn't linger on either his fiancée, or on Link. Smiled at them both. Took both their hands, but kissed Yona's knuckles, whilst only squeezing Link's. Yona was "my dear," and Link, "my friend," said with the same amount of measured warmth.

He was much too good at this, Link thought – much too good at communicating with both fiancée and – whatever Link was. Whereas Link could barely look Yona in the eye. She was much too nice and much too sincere.

Sidon danced with Yona, to sighs and claps and shining smiles. A perfect couple.

Link leant against the rails, and half-dozed. Until Sidon reappeared in front of him, amber eyes shining like jewels, and offering his hand. Link's hands moved jerkily: 'I can't dance.'

Not at all. He could fight; he was born to fight, and it was as natural as breathing to him, but when he tried to dance, he became a muddle of clumsy limbs. King Rhoam had used him as a partner for Zelda for all of one day before he realised Link was a hindrance, than a help. Since Zelda's return, she'd occasionally pull him to his feet by the fire, and insist on trying the latest trend with him. He'd stumble, clutching her hands for balance.

She'd only laugh at him.

Sidon smiled, now. "In fact, I was offering to show you to your chambers."

Link could have laughed. He was too exhausted. Instead he smiled and nodded. He grazed his palm over Sidon's, but didn't take his hand. There were appearances, now. How would it seem if the King of the Zora left his own coronation with the knight of Hyrule on his arm?

Link indulged in that fantasy; the fantasy that things could change.

It didn't happen. He doggedly followed Sidon from the festivities, through the chambers upon chambers of polished silver and marble, water sparkling as it flowed in waterfalls and fountains.

And, eventually - 'These are your rooms,' Link signed.

"I am aware." Sidon's eyes gleamed. "If you wish to, you may stay here. It would be more comfortable, and more befitting of Hyrule's hero."

A rush of warmth went through Link's chest. He didn't know what this was, this time, or what it would lead to – if he even wanted something now Sidon had a finacee. But he didn’t. Just nodded,  and allowed himself to be led to the water bed, sinking down into it. It felt like it would swallow him as surely as a like-like. He sighed so deeply that it hurt his ribs, and left his throat raw.

'Thank you.' Though he didn't know what he was thanking Sidon for. He let his hands fall to the water mattress, where they bounced, then landed still. His eyes were already half-closing.

He heard Sidon chuckle, which seemed like a lullaby. Felt clawed fingers brushed tangled hair from his face.

"I cannot permit you to sleep in your armour." Sidon's voice was as soft as his chuckle. The bed bounced, as he settled onto the end. Link made a sound in response. Lazily opened his eyes to watch Sidon lift his ankle and ease his boot free. And the other. His touch left sparks in its wake.

He raised his hips when Sidon's fingers found his belt. He tenderly eased it open, putting it all to one side, in the same pile as the boots. Lingered, palms over Link’s hips, and he felt a surge of desire. Lifted his chest as the same was done to his scabbard, running a palm up Sidon's arm. It was smooth and cool under his fingers.

They didn’t speak. They let their touches linger and their gazes speak for themselves.

One wrist guard was removed, with that same, gentle touch. Sidon took his other hand, then paused. He stared, at the dark skin, the malachite veins, the ridges of metal inherited from Raoru in the forms of rings and bracelets.

Link twitched his borrowed fingers. He could feel, numbly, through it. Could recognise that it was his, now, even if it didn’t feel like it was.

Sidon cradled it, as though he was still injured.

"I was aware you had new abilities, but I was not aware that was because…"

Link had to slip his fingers out of Sidon's grip, slowly, because he needed both hands to reply: 'I lost my arm, in the battle under the castle. This was—' How could he even put it? 'Given to me.'

"Oh." Sidon took the new hand again. "Oh, my dear friend."

A ball of emotion welled up in his throat, so large that he could barely breathe. He took Sidon's forearms, trailing his fingers down to his hands. Didn't quite take them, but just grazed his fingertips over Sidon's palms, swallowing painfully.

"Are you in pain?" Sidon asked, closing his fingers over Link's hands. He leant over him, seeming closer and closer. Link wanted him closer, he thought, if only so he didn’t feel alone. It was just like last time, when this begun – he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be held.

He shook his head. Couldn't help arching his back slightly, just to be closer to Sidon.

"I am sorry."

Link didn't want to think about it. He wasn't thinking about it. If he thought about it for too long, then he felt the pain of the demon-blight crawling up his arm. Then he felt about how strange it was to wake up with an arm that wasn't his. That his own arm was gone. That this was his arm, now. He'd lost one. Forever.

There wasn't time to get stuck on that, because then he'd feel so much. He wouldn't be able to continue on this quest; he wouldn't be able to find Zelda. He wouldn't be able to play the hero if he was lost in despair.

He shook his head at Sidon, his hair falling back into his eyes. He squeezed the hands that held his, with one of his own, and one borrowed hand. Watched Sidon's eyes soften, and a small, fond smile on his features.

Link's chest ached. He'd missed this. He wanted this – whatever they had before – he felt something with Sidon. Something they couldn't gain back, because of Yuna. Their chains had only tightened around them.

But Sidon leant closer. Leant over him until he could feel warm breath against his cheeks. His hands were pressed down, against the sheets, with tenderness. Link's lips parted of their own accord, anticipating a kiss.

It didn't come. Not to his mouth, at least, but to his forehead. Sidon placed his mouth there, paused, for a long moment. Then pressed his own forehead in the same spot.

"It is good to see you again," Sidon whispered, and there was another apology in his tone. His hand cupped Link's cheek, and he took a breath. Held it, swelling with emotion, his chest arcing up.

"Sleep well, my friend."

There was no further kiss.

Sidon pulled away. Claws catching on Link's shirt as he did, very slowly, as though he wanted to linger. The glint in his amber eyes suggested he did.

Link wanted to follow him. If he wasn't so tired – if he had more strength – he might have. Might have wrapped himself around Sidon and tugged him back down to the bed. Might have kissed every inch of smooth skin that he could. Might have bit down on him, leaving patterns and marks that showed he'd been there. That he'd staked his claim.

But he didn't have the strength. It already felt like he was sinking into sleep, trapped in his own body.

So Sidon left.

And Link stayed.

*

Before (!!), Link paraglided into the Zora Domain. He'd just fought the lynel on (!!). He'd needed the materials to upgrade his armour; needed to upgrade his armour to save Zelda.

Perhaps he was strong enough to save Zelda, now. He wasn't sure. But he knew that he couldn't chance it; not again; he had to be strong enough, without a doubt. If he could practice fighting lynels in preparation for fighting Calamity Ganon.

He landed just in front of Mipha's statue. It was almost midnight, and the stars shone on the stone of her. She practically glowed, like a Goddess statue.

Link let his arms fall, the paraglider fabric fluttering to the stone floor. He stared at her, that heavy feeling returning to his chest.

He had forgotten. When he was in the middle of battle, he forgot about the calamity, and forgot how many friends he'd lost. Forgot about Mipha.

Now that he'd stopped, Link felt exhausted. He was covered in blood. It had dried in his hair, and up his bare arms. His thigh was bleeding; he heard the drip of blood on the floor.

The worst part was, he didn't mind forgetting. Forgetting felt easier. If he could fight, then he didn't have that pain in his chest. He didn't need to remember that he'd missed out on one hundred years; it was a miracle (!!) was still alive. Everyone else was…

That was why he wore the barbarian armour. It made him feel like a warrior; he could lose himself behind the skull he wore on his head. It wasn't like returning to being a knight; it made him feel more brutal, feral, animalistic. A creature just to attack and kill.

Now Mipha stared down at him, with her gentle gaze. The same gentle gaze she used to give him.

Link's wounds hurt. They stung. His chest felt heavy, and just as important. He blinked, and felt hot tears in the corner of his eyes.

"Link, my friend!" Sidon's voice sounded distant, like he was underwater. He heard his footsteps, as he ran towards him. "I saw you flying in."

Link forced himself to blink. To look away.

There were other Zoras. Only a few, but still a few that were staring at him, wide-eyed. It was only when Sidon said his name that they relaxed; as if they hadn't recognised him before. Now they had, they came forward too.

"Link?" Sidon paused, before him. It felt like an effort to turn his head back to him. "Are you alright?"

He blinked, and took a breath. Came back to himself, and tried to smile. Though, he didn't think that helped his case.

'I killed the lynel again,' he signed to Sidon. 'I know it bothers you.'

"Oh, thank you!"

"He really is a hero, huh?"

"Thank you, Link." Sidon bowed his head, his eyes softening. "But please do not trouble yourself. You must have bigger problems to worry about."

Link did smile, then. 'It's the least I can do.'

Because Mipha was dead. Because he needed lynel hooves and horns for his armour. Because he needed to fight so that he wouldn't feel anything.

"Thank you, Link!"

"How can we repay you?"

'I don't need anything,' he signed. But then, he glanced to Sidon. He thought about the last time he had stayed the night.

"Please, Link, you've come all this way."

"I'll let you have a waterbed for half price."

"No, that's alright," Sidon said. He held up his hands. "Link can stay in more luxurious quarters, tonight. I will take care of him."

Link met his gaze. He felt his gaze soften, as he nodded. There was a moment, where it felt like they were the only ones stood there. Link wanted to sink into that; did sink into that, as he allowed himself to be led away by Sidon. His hand was a heavy, reassuring weight on his shoulder.

He found himself returning to Sidon's rooms, with the silver starlight streaming through the windows.

Sidon turned to him, stopping him by placing both hands on his shoulders. Then cupped Link's face, turning it upwards.

"If I may? You push yourself too hard, Link."

He was probably right. But pushing himself too hard made him feel alive; kept him alive. He took Sidon’s wrists, and nudged them down, with a shrug. As though it was nothing. As though he really was the untouchable hero the rumours made him out to be.

‘I’m bleeding,’ he signed, instead. ‘Do you have any bandages?’

“Somewhere, I–“ It distracted Sidon. At least enough to send him searching in his cupboards, whilst Link limped to the bed. He sat on the edge of it, twisting his leg to see the damage. It was an angry gash on his thigh, half-clotted. Not too deep, he didn’t think, from the fact it had clotted at all. His arm stung with pain as well; he’d been caught there. He pressed down on the cut with the balls of his fingers, feeling the ache spread down his arm.

Sidon stepped back in front of him.

‘I’ve had worse,’ Link signed quickly. ‘This is fine. I just need to patch it up.’

“Of course.” Though Sidon didn’t look convinced. He handed the wooden box of supplies over, then knelt by the pool to fill a bowl with water. It was so fresh that it looked blue; like a child’s drawing. It was brought over to Link as though he was the prince. He signed a thank you, taking a cloth from the box and dipping it in the water. He cleaned the wound, wiping away the congealed blood. Cleaning the cloth by squeezing rust red from it, and into the pure water. And again, until he could see the clean cut in his skin. No, not as bad as he thought.

Sidon watched him work, silently.

Link smiled at him, as he dried his leg with a fresh cloth. His hands moved on instinct, adept at wrapping wounds now. He tied it, tightly, then begun on the cut on his arm. There were a dozen more grazes, he knew, and by tomorrow morning, he’d be covered in bruises. But for now, he wasn’t bleeding. He breathed out, and felt his ribs ache. Met Sidon’s gaze where he knelt before him.

‘I like being here,’ he signed, then realised that sounded so little for what he actually felt. He tried again. ‘Here feels like home.’

“Truly?” Sidon couldn’t keep the smile from his features. “I know Hyrule castle is…but not Kakariko village? Hateno?”

Link shook his head. He’d spent a lot of time in those places; he loved those places; those places were full of Hylians, like him. Maybe he used to feel home there, before it all. Now, they were mostly full of strangers, and he didn’t feel like he belonged there. He didn’t truly belong in the Zorra’s domain, either, he knew. But he did feel at home, here, in this room. This room made him feel like the ocean on a calm day. Drifting.

“Then, I am honoured.” Sidon dipped his head, as though bowing.

Link smiled. ‘It’s because of you.’

Then, before he could think too much, he slipped from the bed, leaving the medical supplies and the water there. He settled himself in Sidon’s lap, instead, a hand caressing his dorsal fin. It sent a blush across Sidon’s cheeks.

[palabraasinnecesarias]

if you stay i would even wait all night or until my heart explodes

ao3 | ff.net ship: ranma/akane rating: T+ words: 3,545

summary:

If there was anything Akane knew better than anyone in this world, it would have to be that Ranma’s insensitivity wasn’t on purpose. And it wasn’t that she wanted to justify the fool, she just felt that she had a better judgment when it came to pinpointing all his flaws, especially the ones that made him a jerk. Crushing on your childhood friend should be fine, as long as you don't act upon it, right? What happens when you do?

fair warning: it gets a bit smutty

God, he knew Akane was pretty, but right about now she looked so damn sexy.  

Ranma’s gaze lingered at the way Akane was now filling up the kettle with tap water, her flustered cheeks’ blush overlying towards her conspicuous nose as she continued to spew senseless words out of her mouth, although her voice muffled in his ears. She wasn’t looking at him, concentrating on the task in hand as she continued talking about that idiot from earlier, riling him up in a way that it shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t be...jealous? Is this what that was? He wanted her to shut up about him, strip him out of her thoughts, push him as far away as possible from her radius.  

His eyes scanned her curvaceous figure, relishing at the way her tight dress wrapped around, easily noticing her sleeve wasn't draped over her shoulder as it should have, slipping down, offering less to the imagination. He found himself concentrating on the very revealing skin of her back, making him wonder if she was as soft and silky as she seemed.  

And he knew that this was Akane of all people, understood that she wasn’t some girl, but he wanted to touch her so bad. She was only centimeters away and all he needed to do was reach out and pull her towards him.  

Ha hadn’t allowed himself to think twice at the idea of being so close to Akane, he didn't hesitate to shift towards her as though she was a gravitational pull he could no longer resist against. It wasn’t a struggle whatsoever. The young man was now standing behind her, hovering his hands over her upper arms, not quite touching her yet. The way she stiffened made him consider stopping – and maybe he would have if she had said so. 

Her scent was glorious, her add on fragrance not helping his case, as her usual aroma already bewitched him effortlessly. Her hands had stopped moving, the half-filled kettle left abandoned along with all the other dishes, and he wished she’d say something, anything really. Even if it was to question his motives, demand that he step away, or else she’d smack him senselessly. But she didn’t speak a word, catching the way she hitched her breath in her throat, scrunching her eyes tight shut. He was also scared shitless about stepping over their boundary, knowing there was no going back. But what if he didn’t want to go back?  

She wanted this, too, right?  

His heavy hands went to rest on her shoulders, wincing at the way they tensed, observing how the nape of her neck scrunched in her nervousness. He could feel his hands flaring, each fingertip pressing onto her skin through the sheer sleeves of the dress. Ranma leaned down slowly – allowing her some time to push him away – but when she didn’t, he took the liberty to nuzzle at the back of her head, nudging his nose into her hair and inhaling so deeply it was audible.  

She gasped softly, his hands trailing down her arm to settle at her elbows as he dragged his face towards the nape of her long neck, lazily skimming her skin with his lips, trying to control the urge of wanting to kiss her frenzy. She was warm, and soft like he knew she’d be.  

“Akane,” he said to her, taking pleasure in the way her name rolled out his tongue through his gruff voice, finding himself nudging against the spot right behind her ear, his nose continuing to take in her scent profoundly. His palms were now dragging themselves about her body, leisurely over her belly and at the side of her hips, like a child with a treasure map in search of the world’s greatest riches.  

She smelled delicious, mouthwatering, and God, did he want her.  

He gently pressed himself against her, making it known that he was hard for her.  

Akane gasped breathlessly at the way he positioned himself behind her, his erection compressed against her ass, indiscreet even through their layers of clothing. He pressed a kiss where her head met her shoulder, smirking nimbly at the way she shivered within his hold.  

“R-Ranma,” Akane called bashfully, her voice a squeak and embarrassed, quiet as she bit down onto her lower lip when he lightly shoved himself against her. He loved the way she spoke his name, sounding righteous with each syllable, suddenly desperate to hear her say it again. And so, he reached for her earlobe, clasping it tenderly in between his teeth as he strengthened his grip around the young woman when her wobbly stance almost collapsed completely, her throat uttering a light whine. She needed to calm down, take a deep breath and relax.  

“It’s okay,” he smirked knowingly, “I’ve got you.” Now, and forever, if she were to allow him to take care of her like he wanted to.  

She nodded slowly, wanting to shake off her nerves to relish at how good his body felt against hers.  

“Say my name again, ‘Kane,” he commanded her through his own strained voice, thrusting his hips against her ass once again, a stifle whimper escaping through her gritted teeth. Oh, God. 

And when she didn’t obey right away, he shoved himself once more; this time she did moan, trying to quiet herself down, but her mind was turning into mush, her brain a slop of nothing but raging desire of what Ranma offered underneath his pants.  

“Say it,” Ranma growled, desperate, his voice crisp and clear against her ear, ignoring the way she gasped when his hands began to tug at the hem of her dress until it scrunched up around her belly. His imprint was plenty more perceivable as he was now pressing against only her panties. His large hands roamed about her thighs, wincing from the searing pain provided by the drag of the tip of his fingertips against such sensitive areas.  

“Ah,” she gasped again, not knowing if her beating heart would give out any moment now, but she submitted and called his name softly, hoarse, “Ranma...”  

“Again,” he grunted, spreading his scorching palms about her ass a few times before he reached for the swell of her bum and squeezed. 

She hitched a breath, “Ranma…” 

“F-fuck,” Ranma huffed as he softly pressed her down, adjusting her body to lean forward against the counter, and without a coherent thought he pulled out his dick, fully erect and really hurting. He took a moment to admire the pale color on the pattern of her underwear as he pressed himself against her, never considering her to be the type to wear cutesy undergarments to begin with.  

She was moaning a lot louder now, giving in completely as she willingly bent further, feeling the way Ranma’s hands took a sturdy hold of her hips, his nails digging deep as he gripped her tightly. 

Even if he wasn’t inside her, she felt herself begin to tingle all around, her toes curling and her eyes rolling, embracing herself unable to stop herself from lifting her own ass.  

He was reaching his end, he could feel it, thrusting against her as though he was actually fucking her, “’K-’Kane,” he grunted, loudly and desperately. He lowered his head and peppered wet kisses all about her back, smiling against her skin when she moaned softly, jolting her head back in mere pleasure. “I-I don’t think, ugh...I can hold it…” he huffed. 

Her body shivered at the way Ranma’s shove began making her see colors through a hazy vision.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk!”  

“Ranma!” She breathed loudly, “Ranma! Ranma!”  

continue reading in my ao3 or ff.net account

[ineffablydelighted]

[Cute Omens #3]

That first time Aziraphale visited Crowley's flat (aka: The day Aziraphale met his other children-in-law: Crowley's plants 🌿)

[Future me after ending writing this bit: STOP RIGHT HERE! I didn't expect it to end up being a tad smutty rather than cute but it did so if you don't want to read that: ABHORT MISSION! NOW!]

Crowley: *miracles the door of his flat to open by snapping his fingers**does a reverence* After you, Angel.

Aziraphale: *a little shy* Oh, er, thank you. *already looks everywhere**echoing voice* It is... uhhh... very... rocky. What am I hearing?

[Okay, I might need to precise a thing or two here: in my mind, Crowley's flat somewhat looks like a fancy/modern vivarium, with "human"/entity furniture, natural rock walls, a river flowing all over it and, of course, the humidity that should go with it. Basically, imagine the show's flat with more natural elements... yes, a Despicable me/The Incredibles' villain apartment, exactly!]

Crowley: *enters as well**merely trips for some reason**looks at Aziraphale to make sure he didn't notice**he didn't**acts cool* Oh, that would be the river. And what does "rocky" mean, exactly?

Aziraphale: *looks at him* Wait. You have a river in your flat?

Crowley: *holds himself from sighing* Yeah. I have a river in my flat. Don't make it weird.

Aziraphale: *looks around to find the river's "source"**still cannot believe it* You miracled a river in your flat.

Crowley: *starts being annoyed* Yes, Angel, I miracled a river in my flat. Can we move on or do I need to miracle a lake in the living room to make you talk about something remotely worth speaking about?

Aziraphale: *has started to follow the river to the next room being... Crowley's office, probably?* Annnd you've never had... paperwork... for that?

Crowley: *is closer than Aziraphale expected**watches him startle**super brief inquisitious look* No water bill, so Hell's accountants are pretty pleased, actually. *removes his jacket and throws it on his office chair**same goes for his glasses that finds their way to the nearest plant*

Aziraphale: Oh, o... allright. *shy smile*

Crowley: And are you?

Aziraphale: Hum?

Crowley: Allright.

Aziraphale: *takes a long time to contemplate the question**also, Crowley stays closer to him than usual* Well, we saved the World...

Crowley: Yep, classic Sunday.

Aziraphale: *sad brows*... And my Bookshop has burned down.

Crowley: I know. Sorry it happened, Angel. My Bentley has burned down as well.

Aziraphale: *feels suddenly so guilty* Oh, yes... Sorry about that, by the way. I didn't quite found the occasion to-

Crowley: We can still pop into places until I find a way to repair her. We should be fine.

Aziraphale: Oh, yes, you're right. But, until then, I think we should... um... lay low for a while?

Crowley: Lay low... here?

Aziraphale: Y-yes? *blushes**scared look* I-I mean, only if, uh, if that is okay for you, of course, I-I didn't mean to impo-

Crowley: Angel, I've spent more hours that we could ever count in your Bookshop, it's only fair.

Aziraphale: *little smile* O-okay.

Crowley: *taps his shoulder in a friendly-yet-somewhat-awkward way*

Both: *echange a weird look*

Crowley: Don't think too much about it. *is, himself, thinking too much about it*

Aziraphale: *clears his throat* So, hum... can you... give me... a tour? *tries to smile normally**fails?*

Crowley: Oh, sure thing. Follow me. *one of his arms automatically slides behind one of Aziraphale's shoulders and gently drags him elsewhere*

Aziraphale: *does not remember how to walk properly for a second**looks at Crowley* Ah, sorry.

Crowley: *confused* Nevermind. So. We just leave the office and... Where do you want to go? Left? Right?

Aziraphale: *even more confused* I don't know, hum... Left? *shrugs his shoulders in a shy way*

Crowley: *holds himself from thinking how cute it is for approximately 0.2 miliseconds**smiles more genuinely* Left it is, come on. *Takes Aziraphale's hand without warning*

Aziraphale: Cro-

Crowley: *releases Aziraphale hand as if nothing happened except the fact he felt Aziraphale's heart beating so fast he could feel it at the end of his Angel's figertips**clears his throat* These are... My biggest pride. *looks at his plants with dad eyes**hands on his hips*

Aziraphale: *is looking for a mirror to check if his blushing is obvious or super obvious**cannot find one**looks at the plants* Oh, Crowley, they are most lovely!

[One of the plants shows its gratitude by making a red flower bloom right in front of Aziraphale]

Aziraphale: *approaches it**looks at Crowley* Did you do that?

Crowley: *raising an eyebrow* I thought you did. *suddenly looks at his plants with utmost severity*

[The plants starts shaking]

Aziraphale: *what-now face*

Crowley: *angry AF**threatening mode status: hella activated* So, you're telling me you could grow flowers... THE... ENTIRE... TIME?!

Aziraphale: Cr-Crowley, stop, you're scaring them!

Crowley: *gritted teeth* Apparently, I didn't scare them ENOUGH. *theatrical gestures* What did I tell you all? GROW BETTER! Is that so difficult to understand? Angel! I'm talking to you! IS IT?

Aziraphale: *does movements but eventually stops every single one of them right in the middle* I...

Crowley: *approaches Aziraphale*

Aziraphale: *recoils*

Crowley: *catches Aziraphale's arm and pulls him closer**whispers* Angel, I need you to back me up on this.

Aziraphale: *torn between blushing and being intimidated**as always, ends up doing both**whispers back**kinda panicking* I do not know what you expect me to do, Crowley!

Crowley: *tries not to focus on the fact their temples are touching*Just follow my lead.

Aziraphale: *removes himself from the temple-to-temple situation**unsure but pretends to have 100% understood* O-okay. *awkward thumbs up*

Crowley: *out loud**starts pacing* I am so, SO disappointed in you lot. *points at Aziraphale* And he is disappointed in you, too!

Aziraphale: *says nothing*

Crowley: *looks back at Aziraphale* Angel.

Aziraphale: Oh! Yes! I... I am... very, um... *tries to frown his eyebrows in a threatening way* displeased by your... attitude!

Crowley: Exactly! And you don't know me when I'm disappointed he is disappointed. *marks a pause trying to remember something important**remembers* This is Aziraphale, by the way.

Aziraphale: *waves in New Girl arriving in High School in the middle of the school year* Hello?

Crowley: And if HE is disappointed, oh, I swear to you, come Hell or High Water, I will make anything responsible REGRET IT 'til the end of their days.

Aziraphale: There's no need to be- *catches Crowley's threatening look starting to turn at him and him only**too loud* HE IS A DEMON, YOU SEE? He knows things I could never even imagine!

Crowley: Exactly! And now, time to make an example out of one of you! *aims for a smaller plant and lively grabs it*

Aziraphale: *follows him with little stressed steps* Are you sure about that, Crowley?

Crowley: *high-pitched voice**still theatrical* DO YOU HEAR THAT?! How sweet of him, but you know me and how much I am not. Swee-t. *gets out of the plant room**yells from afar* THIS IS FOR HIDING THINGS FROM ME, IT'S GOING TO BE SO PAINFULL!

Aziraphale: *still following but looking everywhere to not hit a wall or something* C-Crowley, can we talk about this?

Crowley: *do not pay attention to him* YOU'RE GONNA HEAR THINGS YOU'VE NEVER EVEN HEARD IN YOUR WILDEST NIGHTMARES!

[The little plant shakes like crazy in Crowley's hand]

Aziraphale: *is an Angel after all**unsure but tries to take the plant out of Crowley's hands*

Crowley: *higher-pitched, scandalized voice* Wot the Hell are you doing?! *surprised yet swiftly turns to avoid him*

Aziraphale: *almost falls to the floor*

Crowley: *catches him by a bit of his almost-two-centuries-old jacket, avoiding Aziraphale's face to hit the floor 0.5 seconds before impact**still holds the little plant in his other hand*

Aziraphale: *blinks way too much looking at the cold floor* Cro-Crowley!

Crowley: Damn you, Angel! *pulls him back up**reproachful voice*

Aziraphale: I am... SO sorry... I just...

Crowley: Why did you do that?!

Aziraphale: I just... I don't...

Crowley: *grunts**quickly walks away*

Aziraphale: *follows him clumzily until, oh, that's the kitchen*

Crowley: *opens the window*

Aziraphale: *expects him to dramatically throw the plant away*

Crowley: *puts the plant next to a dozen others on the balcony*

Aziraphale: You-

Crowley: *puts a finger on Aziraphale's lips* Shhhh.

Aziraphale: *looks at Crowley's finger**blushes*

Crowley: *yells back**looks for something in a random cupboard* OOOKAY, TIME FOR THE DOUBLE CHAINSAW TREATMENT! *activates the machines*

Aziraphale: *recoils, a hand on his lips*

Crowley: *gives him a "help me here" look*

Aziraphale: *awkward winking**dramatic ethereal being* OH NO, CROWLEY, DON'T DO THIS! I'M BEGGING YOU!

Crowley: YOU AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET, ANGEL! *evil laugh*

Aziraphale: C-CROWLEY, NO, PLEASE DO NOT THROW THIS PLANT AWAY!

Crowley: *takes an empty flower pot**throws it out of the window*

[Noises of a car accident down there]

Aziraphale: *out of his role* Crowley!

Crowley: *shrugs his shoulders**uncertain**checks out* Uh, it's... nothing, Angel!

Aziraphale: *pushes him away without thinking* I don't believe y- CROWLEY!

[Evident scene of two cars having collided because of one having its windshild abruptly crushed by a random flower pot happening]

Crowley: *awkward smile* Well... We saved the world, so... Two cars, I mean, *little misplaced laugh* It's not... that serious, right?

Aziraphale: *points at the exterior**severe out of nowhere* Repair this! Now!

Crowley: *astonished* You... wait a se- sure. *reverses time to avoid a silly car accident**the flower pot has vanished though**hand on a hip**ready to have his revenge* Satisfied?

Aziraphale: *feels the balance shifting between the two of them again**knows he is in trouble**recoils* I-I didn't mean to... Y-you know... say it like that, I...

Crowley: *walks towards him in a snakey way* Oh, really? Because, from where I stand, it feels like you just gave me an order, Angel.

Aziraphale: *not-so-reassured, high-pitched voice* Nooo, of course not, I-I would nev- *bumps into a statue representing... two angels wrestling?!**cannot go further**looks at Crowley, alarmed* Well, I mean, I might have- but you- *weird worried noise* uhhh...

Crowley: *enjoys this way too much**gets closer* Do you really need me to explain how this is supposed to work, Angel?

Aziraphale: *Quirinus Quirrel's laugh* I-I-I... I really didn't mean to- *gasps*

Crowley: *has just taken Aziraphale by the back of his neck**smirks* Of course not, but you still did, and I wonder... *draws him closer until their noses touch**lower his voice* How do you intend to make amends to me, Angel?

Aziraphale: *tries to get away**reminds himself of the statue - how weird of a decorating choice is that?**looks at Crowley intensely* I-I... have... no idea, I...

Crowley: *gets even closer to the point they can only feel each other's breaths now* Hum? Yes? Does not sound like the beginning of an apology I'm expecting, Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: *never heard his name being said like that**heart racing**eye flicker*

[They exchange a rather ineffable gaze.]

Crowley: *smirks again**puts his lips on his Angel's and talks on them* This is your last chance to stop this before I lose my mind.

Aziraphale: Y-you... *gasps like a shojo character**impressed eyes**weird arm movements**almost inaudible little yell* Aaahhh...

Crowley: *intense gaze**whispers* Don't. Panic. You knew what would happen before stepping a foot in here, right?

Aziraphale: *closes his eyes for a second**tries to gather some courage**looks back at Crowley**mumbles* Yes... yes, I did.

Crowley: Finally. *tightens his grip on Aziraphale's neck and presses his lips on his*

Aziraphale: *opens widly his eyes for a second before closing them too hard**indulges with abandon**invites Crowley to press harder by doing it himself*

Crowley: *grabs Aziraphale's hair**time for some tongue action*

Aziraphale: *moans in unholy**grabs Crowley's scarf to pull him closer if that is even possible*

God: And it was possible, obviously! Look at them, Lucy! Look! Satan: How many times have you replayed that moment, exactly? God: *defensive* Nearly two hundred! In other words, nothing! *laughs in Naughty Almighty* Satan: *before leaving* You're gonna owe my lot's channel a crazy, crazy fee this month. God: AND I REGRET NOTHING!

Navigation time!

[While needing you to consider that, most of the time, the scenes are randomized and do no necessarily follow one another at all]

Previous - Beginning - Next

[moramaisis]

Characters: Ascended Astarion, my tav Arsenia (tiefling)

Pairing: m/f

Keywords and warnings: villain couple, lip biting, kissing, lip bite play, dom tav, romantic, dark romance, mentions of torture at the beginning.

May be minor spoilers to Cazador's scene.

Ao3

Edit: I reworked it some more. Hopefully it's better.

----------

It has been a long night down at the underground levels of Cazador's palace. A long and difficult night, but i endured. I enjoyed setting all those hulking beasts on fire, hearing their whimpers as their scorched fur filled the air with nauseating stench.

Ever since my lover told me about his life in the Szarr palace, the torture and humiliation he endured, i have been seething. Silently and keeping my heart a locked stronghold. Spending time with our adventure party and cracking jokes with them made me forget. Just for a short while. Sometimes i even cracked some risky ones to my beloved, i enjoy teasing him, but made sure to never go too far.

Tonight, however, when all of us were covered in blood and gore, the master of the night hid in his coffin like a true coward. I was expecting more, something grand, but all i wanted was to see Astarion ripping him apart.

There he was, my lover, tearing open the coffin and throwing the man- who will soon cease to be - on the floor.

Cazador mumbled his threats, as expected, and then Astartion asked for my help. The look in his eyes is something i'll never forget.

I didn't even hesitate, he was already cursed and once you're barely human you start looking at things differently.

This ritual could make him a sun-walker end make his life come full circle. From the bottom to the top. I, Arsenia, grew up in the wilderness, learned to hunt as a tiny girl with nubs on my forehead. Learned to trap monsters, cook, make clothing, defend myself and my family. I know the laws of nature well, they're often unmerciful and unfair, best you can hope is a quick death.

I linked our tadpoles and let him see the scars. Standing in the background, i inched closer to enjoy the scene. Astarion ripped Cazador's clothing off and exposed a pale lean muscular body, adorned with bruises and cuts. When Astarion stabbed his dagger into Cazador's back, he uttered a bleak cry of pain. That very second a wave of arousal caressed my loins. Throbbing after each delightful scream. It was joyful hearing the screams of the man who was going to kill my lover and gods know how many more people after that. I never expected to get such a physical reaction, but it wasn't unwelcome.

Shadowheart yelled something in the back, how dangerous the ritual was or that we should stop. Honestly, i was fully in the moment, feasting my eyes on every cut and turn of the blade. On every scream... and yelp and tremor.

I've seen Astarion's scar so many times that i can see it with my eyes closed. There's something beautiful in it. Then again, the skin of your lover makes everything beautiful.

Once the ritual was over, he seemed different, slightly distracted. I asked him if all was well and he said that the world seems to move at a faster speed. He said that he felt how all the lowly creatures wanted to serve. I had an odd feeling then, down in my chest. He looked at me with those eyes that could coax me into anything and said he could hear that in me too. My quickened pulse. How i'm waiting for a command. That clever little bastard knows what he's doing, i felt the urge to grab his waist and squeeze it tightly against my body. I wanted to crush him in my arms. Rip his lips off his face with a single lustful kiss.

I'm a tiefling with draconic ancestry, my blood is fire and my instincts murmur inside my veins like songbirds, i'm a good head taller than Astarion, life in the wild has made me muscular and strong. Astarion never called me a monster, unlike some people in the cities and villages i have travelled through. I accepted him as he was. Sure, he was a great companion, silver tongue, not bad-looking either, but his skills with the blade and bloodthirst conquered me. Out in the wild i was forced to use my blade more than once, use my magic to both hunt and burn faces of thieves.

I knew ascension would change some part of him, but i hoped, blindly like all lovers, that no great harm would be done. I wanted my lover to meet his full potential - he seemed to hunger for the ritual too – so i gladly lent a helping hand. So, the circle was complete, the predator ate the weakling creature, what's next?

Astarion stepped closer and asked me about immortal life. He said he wants me in his future, as his consort, and i said yes. I'm growing weary of hiking from town to village to town, always the same, hunting, working as a blade for hire, moving again. My parents were killed in the outlands. Their graves are growing moss and lichen. The more i see in my travels, the less i want to settle down. Humans are such evil bastards. So many unspeakable things have my eyes gazed upon.

This adventure gave me a family… a lover. Astario, he's speaking of taking over Baldur's Gate and it might just be the piss of 7000 souls in his head…but…if he's serious, i can't say that i want to stop him. Ever since we entered the city all i saw was prejudice, cruelty, rudeness, corruption. I bet my left horn we would to a better job as rulers. Me and Astarion.

"Can i kiss you?" i asked and he smiled, pointing to the ground. He expected me to kneel, but i'm not into that kind of play. At least when not in the right mood.

I straightened my shoulders and snatched Astarion into my arms, holding him like some groom would hold his shy wife. He looked so beautiful in my arms, in his new fancy silks, and that little expression of surprise suited him very well. That tiny surprise morphed into a heavy-lidded grin.

"I forgot, you never liked taking orders."

"That's what you get for making the most stubborn tiefling your spawn."

I press my lips against his and our kiss is passionate and sloppy. Our tongues are engaged in a dominance battle. Then i feel a sting in my lip and notice a crimson fluid smearing on Astarion's cheek. I stare at him quietly, as he gazes back, eyes half-closed and inquisitive.

I run the tip of my tongue across my lower lip and find a spot where the salty taste intensifies. I lick the wound slowly, under Astarion's unmoving stare. The crimson tastes intoxicatingly sweet, i lick the wound once more, spread the crimson nectar onto my upper lip and go into another deep, yet needy kiss. Astarion grabs my face and sucks on my wound greedily. I enjoy his animalistic passion, it's not too different from my own. I give him a minute and then his soft gorgeous upper lip is between my teeth, and i bite. I take over his mouth and relish every salt-flavored kiss he gives me. He mumbles in delight and his hand on my neck clenches, pulling me closer. Lust is written all over our grimy little bloodstained faces.

[astir-s-mirror]

Hi! I just wrote and published my first fanfic on AO3, check it out!

It's Ancano/Savos Aren slow burn ennemies to lovers 💖

[h0bg0blin-meat]

This mf (my friend) had the fucking audacity to say personification and anthropomorphization of scientific concepts is weird when just a few months ago that bish wrote a fucking Sodium x Chlorine gay fanfic instantly on my demand 💀💀.

[bifairywife]

(ready to read at Ao3)  bounded

JaySteph Halloween!! @jaystephevents ​

Pairing/s: Stephanie Brown/Jason Todd

first two chapters are up!!

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Summary:

Stephanie is not a witch, she made sure of it. What she is, is something only one man in town knows, and it seemed he did not plan to stay long.

Prompt used: monsterhunter!jason, notawitch!stephanie, alternate universe - supernatural elements

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

Things I didn’t think would become a kink for me…

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

CS Sleepy Prompt One-Shots (1/?): “It was just a nightmare, love. It wasn’t real.”

AO3 | PART TWO | PART THREE

Killian’s chest burned with each wheezing breath that passed his dry, cracked lips. The chains wrapped around his torso would tighten with his exhales, forcing each breath shallower than the one prior. He hoped he could win this final battle against Hades by dying before he reached the waters beneath him.

Another breath ripped through his lungs.

The chains dipped him lower and tugged tighter at his chest. He forced his right eye open against the dried blood sealing it closed. There was time enough for him to realise there was no way to end his existence before he reached the waters churning from the numerous souls swarming and desperately reaching out for him.

Emma was so near; yet, he would not get to see her one last time. He would not be able to scold her for coming to this horrid realm after him. Hades would win this battle and there was no escape, no clever way for him to get out of these chains; he would wander forever, his soul lost to the waters below. His eyes closed, his head dropped, chin rested on his chest; he was completely defeated.

His shoes began to fill with water. He had reached the end. It burned, searing away at his flesh as it crept up his legs.

Yet, something in him still clung to his instincts, the need to survive that had seen him through centuries in Neverland, and he struggled and kicked trying to pull himself out of the acidic water.

“Killian!” Emma’s voice called at him, echoing through the chamber.

She was too late. She was here and it was too late.

“Killian, please,” her voice seemed so close, he forced his eyes open once more. He would see her once more.

Rather than the torture chamber he’d been expecting, his eyes were treated to the sight of Swan with her hair a wavy mess from sleep, her deep green eyes filled with concern, and the warmth of her body pressed against his. Rather than chains, his torso was tight with a comforter he’d gotten wrapped around himself as he slept.

“Good,” she breathed when their eyes met in the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows. She draped herself across his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

His arms encircled her, almost reflexively, and he held her closer to him. Her scent and warmth surrounded him, settling him into a moment too good to be real.

“I don’t know which is real,” he confessed into the darkness, his voice barely a whisper.

“This is real. Killian,” she propped up, a welcome pressure on his chest, her eyes connecting with his, “wherever you were, it was just a nightmare, love. It was not real.”

Killian gave her a small smile, one laced with a bit of doubt that this was reality. After all, that they could have a quiet moment was certainly the less likely of the two scenarios.

Still, the tendrils of the dream began to release him as she peppered his chest with kisses. Memories of Zeus and seeing Swan in the graveyard surfaced, freeing him from the hold of the dream completely.

Tag: @kmomof4

[a-dose-of-comatose]

Or you plant plot seeds in your friends’ brains and hope that they write it instead.