#so there will be more scar kissing to come

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

02:14 am as I comment my thoughts

I'm exactly like this right now, no joke ☝🏻

Get ready because my review is going to be big. I'm absolutely scarred for life with this fanfic that made me take at least 4 deep breaths while reading it.

“Because he was young, foolish and so in love that he could for once be egoistic enough to say the world was at his feet while you were in his arms smiling into the kiss and mumbling those stupid three-letters-long word”

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT????????

It's like watching a romantic comedy so good that every second you feel blessed to be alive and to have access to something so beautiful. And you wish the whole time that there was one more minute of the movie, one more scene, in my case, more lines.

Your writing is one of the most beautiful things I've had the pleasure of reading, and the characters and atmosphere are absolutely fascinating.

You intertwined the present with flashbacks with extreme mastery and I found myself laughing the whole time, out of sheer happiness.

Their affection, the reality of everyday life and all the love they have for each other.... was beautiful.

And the smut part... as hot, romantic, melancholy and intense as possible. The tears, the surrender and his palpable devotion to her... a totally unique experience. I'm overwhelmed by everything I felt

To find a story as fascinating as this one, so rich, well-written and developed, and with namjoon? 16.7k words? That was a blessing for my soul, honestly.

Wherever you are, I wish you all the best and may the coming year be wonderful for you! I hope to see more of you soon @smoochkooks 💗💗💗💗💗💌

—it’s december (and i still want you) | m.

⇢ pairing: kim namjoon/reader

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff (the holy trinity)

⇢ word count: 16.7k

⇢ warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids!), dirty talk, just good, ol’ emotional sex

⇢ summary: as the final farewell to your soon-to-be-ex husband namjoon, you spend with him one last christmas in your parents’ cottage far away from the city, reflecting on your life together before you will part your ways for good.

a/n: omg guys!! i’m so excited to post this, you have no idea:( i’ve been working on writing this for a whole month but i had this particular fic in mind since last year so i can’t believe i actually managed to finish this before christmas like i had planned. i hope you will like this. i’m sending you lots of love for the new year! xx, julia.

For how long you could remember, you’ve always adored Christmas.

There’s something discreetly magical in this time of the year, no matter if it’s an unique aura or the fact you’re the family type of person, Christmas used to hold a special place in your heart, spread a distinctive kind of warmth in your body that made you feel calm and loved. 

This year though, it’s different. Not because the weather doesn’t suit the occasion and instead of snowing, the sky is cloudy. The very reason is on your kitchen table, next to the big cardboard box you’ve scribbled ‘xmas decorations’ on in black ink. There lay neatly folded in manila folder documents, untouched for about a week since postman delivered them. Your future is inside, just above your signature. You know those papers are not going to be read through anytime soon, that the blank space next to your name will be crystal white until the very New Year.  

You know he won’t say a word about it unless it’s necessary. He won’t plead, beg, ask for delay. He’s accepted it. Deep down you wish he put up some fight, resisted, fell to his knees in front of you and counted all his mistakes promising it won’t happen again. But it’s your decision. And he has never denied your choice. 

You’ve always loved Christmas. Family gatherings by the table, the smell of cinnamon in your mum’s famous rolls, the colourful lights on the Christmas tree your dad never stops complaining about when he’s assigned to put them on. 

This year however, Christmas is nothing but an unceremonious reminder that it’s going to be your last celebration spend with your soon-to-be-ex husband, Namjoon.

Continuar lendo

[blond3ang3l]

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Your hands rubbed Jason’s aching muscles. The two of you (more him) was stuck in a rock and a hard place. People started rumors that he was messing around with Talia. Which of course he found disgusting. Damian was basically his brother, why would he in his right mind do that? But people just kept saying shit and it was getting to him. It had gotten to the point where people thought they were “helping you” by coming up and telling you what they heard.

You obviously knew it wasn’t true in the first place. The only reason the two were seen together was because Jason was filling in for Bruce to give Talia updates on Damian since the boy had gotten sick recently. But people are stupid and like to jump to conclusions about is everything. The celebrity worship that the Wayne family had with people started to move on to you when you started dating Jason.

Being in public eye people who’s were jealous and wanted to be in your or his place were looking for any reason for you guys to break up. It was all taking a toll on Jason’s already messed up mental. You were the best thing that happened to him in god knows how long. You accepted him for every problem he had. Kissing every scar that was left from the aftermath of his attack. You took your time to piece him back together. It was hard on him for sure but he felt so loved by you that he didn’t wanna lose you at all. His hand moved yours into his own.

The two of you were in you guys shared place. He was damn there in tears as he looked at you sat in his lap so beautifully. “God, I don’t wanna lose you sweets. So damn good to me. I’d be lost without you.” He was practically pleading with you to not be angry with him. Never in life could he cheat on you with someone else. You were his number one supporter and helped him feel human once more in his horrible life. Tears started to spill from his eyes as he pleaded for you to forgive him for getting caught up in the drama and people butting into you guys relationship.

This started while you guys were on a date and a group of girls practically surrounded you spewing off about what they heard and how he was “cheating on you”. These girls were nothing more than crazy fans that wanted fame. You knew better and you knew your man damn good. You silenced him by pressing your lips against his.

He was taken aback but quickly melted into the kiss, hands gripping your waist. “I know honey, ust relax? Let me help you relax okay?” His eye’s slowly moved up to meet yours. It was like his whole body just felt as ease as he looked at you. “Yeah..yeah I’d like that.”

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | boyfriend!Jason Todd, black!fem, little bit of ass grabbing, nothing too serious, edited

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | sudden thought I wanted to share with you all. If any errors please ignore, thank you. Enjoy lovebugs!! :) like, comment, reblog.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

Usually, his mornings were spent dreading waking up and having to climb out of bed after a long night of patroling. If he could have it his way all he would want to do is sleep, lounge around and do absolutely nothing.

But when he started dating you, his life turned upside down.

Mornings were never spent alone, mornings with you were much more brighter, much more sweeter. Even in Gotham's gloomy weather he still found some sort of happiness in you.

With the sounds of chirping from outside, it's beautiful yet annoying tune broke through his slumber like shattered glass. He would lay there going in and out of sleep, kinda aware of his surroundings as he takes in a deep breath to exhale slowly.

When he opened his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight seeping through his dark curtains, his orbs set on the presence of you.

The beauty of your essence. Your glorious soft cocoa skin and gentle features. Your face was relaxed and content. Your lashes kissed along your freckled high cheekbones as you slept. Your braids were securely wrapped in a scarf as you started to stir in your sleep.

And although he was on his side of the bed, you had inched closer for his warmth, loving that even through the cold he always exuded as huge radiator for you.

Laying in the middle with your back against the mattress, your head turned towards him with your hands settled at your lower abdomen.

Your lips parted as soft snores slipped into the quiet morning, clearly etched into a deep slumber. His lips curled into a smirk, adjusting himself beside you so he could wrap his arm around you, his thumb brushing up against your back. He studies the way your face starts to move, brow twitching a little and then comes an exhale.

You looked so unbothered. As if you were dreaming of rainbows and sunshine, as if nothing could harm you at this very moment because you were sleeping so peacefully.

Being so close in the confines of his protective stronghold helped you tremendously get better sleep and he, personally, could agree. Having you by his side made him feel okay, feel better knowing that he didn't have to sit around worrying if you were okay or not. Even when you were somewhere else, still he would worry but also hate the idea of not being by your side.

Nonetheless, he could lay here for hours upon hours upon hours and never get tired of observing you.

It was nearly 11:30 now, this was the most you had ever slept in the longest time. And when you felt it was time to wake up, you didn't dare to open your eyes just yet. Instead you recognized the feeling of his hand caressing your side. Your own traveling up to grip at his forearm, recognizing the deep scars along his skin, you could feel a muscle move as he brings you closer.

You would sigh, pry your eyes open to see deep blue irises already peering over you. You'd crack a smile looking away from him, nearly laughing out of nervousness but groan, "you weirdo, watching me sleep?" You ask, voice still groggy with sleep as you spoke lowly.

He chuckles, "maybe."

"Is that a problem?" he watches as you rub the sleep from your eyes to then stretch a little and bring yourself onto your side near his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to respond, registering your surroundings.

"No, I guess not, as long as I look pretty to you. I wake up ugly sometimes, ya know? Bad breath, slobber and all?" You stated half jokingly motioning towards your face before tucking your hand into your chest.

He amusingly scoffs at that.

"Hm, I beg to differ." He says, landing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he starts to rub circles along your back. "Regardless of your state, baby, you always look pretty."

"Hm, you're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm saying that because I love you and I love looking at you with every chance I get." He states in a matter-of-factly tone.

"You're biased then." You challenged with a raised brow, your gaze locking back with his.

"I'm only biased because I'm your boyfriend." You suddenly felt small underneath his gaze, feeling his hand venture lower near the roundness of your ass. Beginning to palm your cheek through the oversized tee. His head was rested into the palm of his hand as his face was only merely inches apart from yours, mumbling, "I have every right to be biased, mamas." His glare was loving and serious, clearly not shying away from this small intimacy between you two.

"Hm," you smirked, nudging your nose against his, "point taken."

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,356

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: smut, body worship, detailed description of physical appearance, very brief mentions of insecurities surrounding appearance, oral f. receiving

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h

The room was dark.

The curtains had been drawn quite some time ago since it was late into the evening.

Noah had his strong arms wrapped around my waist as he snored softly into the back of my neck.

It was nice.

The darkness was too.

I thought about Noah sleeping soundly behind me, a sense of jealousy consuming my veins.

How dare he be sleeping too well whilst I lie here and toss and turn.

It wasn’t his fault that my mind wouldn’t shut off.

Maybe it was.

I didn’t know.

My issues often kept me awake. I worried if people could see me. If someone were to break in and see me, and think I was too big. I wasn’t too big. I never was. But my brain didn’t agree.

It was hard to navigate. Especially at night when Noah wasn’t there to fight off the voices.

I didn’t want to wake him.

Not tonight.

He had just come back from the biggest show of his career thus far and needed his rest.

But so did I.

I was utterly exhausted.

My brain would not shut off, making it hard to do much else.

I lay in the darkness, enveloped in my boyfriends large frame, and thought.

I always thought.

I hated it.

Thinking took up too much of my time and I wanted to stop.

My brain needed to stop.

Everything needed to stop.

It wasn’t like my brain was telling my horrible, nasty things. It just wouldn’t stop thinking of possible perceptions of me.

Not all negative.

But all too much.

Most of the time, Noah would help me shut it off, but I doubted he would do that tonight.

My tossing had awoken him.

He rubbed his eyes and kissed my cheek.

“Why are you still up, babe?”

I shrugged.

I didn’t know what to tell him. Or how to tell him.

I just shrugged and snuggled my back further into him, my ass brushing his semi-hard cock.

He groaned quietly.

I giggled slightly at his reaction.

He gripped my hips with his large hands, stilling me in place.

“Baby, you gotta stop.” Noah groaned into my neck, making all the hairs stand up. I felt myself grow wetter as his chest vibrated behind me.

Fuck.

“Is it the thoughts again? Are they keeping you up?” He asked, sounding a little more concerned.

Wow, way to kill the mood, Noah.

I nodded.

“It’s nothing bad, just a lot of them at once.” I replied in a timid whisper. I didn’t want to divulge what my brain was saying just yet as I was hoping that the steamy atmosphere that had been created was still lingering.

“Can I show you something?” Noah whispered.

I nodded once again.

He pushed himself up slightly and wiggled his large body down the bed until he was hovering over my stomach.

His larger hands crept up my torso, pulling the baggy t-shirt that I was wearing up until my breasts were exposed. The chill in the air making my nipples perk up.

He motioned for me to lift up so that he could remove the shirt entirely. I complied, curious… and horny.

Noah’s beautiful brown eyes were alight with something other than lust and love. It was more intense. I couldn’t quite place it.

“Look at you.” He said, running his fingers up and down my sides, making me shiver under his delicate touch.

I could feel his hot breath against me as he leaned closer, as if he were marvelling at the very texture of my skin.

He seemed mesmerised by my body as he began to pull the black cotton panties I was wearing down my thighs until he had removed them completely.

His hands still wandered the expanse of my body, not yet touching me where I wanted him to so desperately.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever had the privilege of seeing with my own eyes.” He whispered as his eyes remained transfixed on my skin.

He marvelled at every scar, every stretch mark, every freckle as if they were individual works of art.

“I could look at you forever.” He whispered, still not looking at my face.

Noah was so close to me, his body barely millimetres away from my own.

So close, in fact, that I could feel every hair on his body brushing against my own.

I felt his hard cock that remained restrained in his black boxers brush against my leg as he moved up higher, closer to my face.

“You amaze me in every way.” He whispered in my ear before capturing my lips in a tender, yet intense, kiss.

I moaned loudly and reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer into me.

Taking the opportunity, with his body in such close proximity to my own, I raised my lower half up to grind against his own, hungry for some kind of friction, be it tiny.

He began to grind against me in return.

We remained like that for a short while, just enjoying each other’s presence, until it was all too much to bear and Noah pulled away.

“I gotta taste you, honey.” He murmured, transfixed in some sort of trance as he lowered himself down towards my pussy that ached with anticipation of what was to come.

First, I felt the tip of his nose brush against my clit.

Then, I felt his tongue expertly navigate through my folds as he began to eat my pussy.

He started slowly, as if he was making love to my sex with his mouth.

It was euphoric.

If there was some kind of award for eating pussy, Noah would win every damn category.

His hands traced delicate artworks on my thighs as he licked and kissed away out of my view. It grounded me, his fingertips dancing across my skin.

My body began to tingle, letting me know I was close. I was sure that Noah knew this too as he didn’t move his position in order to make me cum.

Despite me knowing that I was close, my orgasm always took me by surprise. A white hot light erupted in my brain as it painted bright fireworks across my eyelids, filling my body with overwhelming pleasure as I came on Noah’s stunningly handsome face.

He slowed his movement before pulling away from me, still wearing that tranced expression on his face.

The wetness on his chin reflected the slit of moonlight that shone through the gap in the curtains, making him look completely ethereal.

His large hands still sat on my thighs, caressing the skin gently.

Noah leant forward and brought his body up closer to my face, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss told me everything that I needed to know in that moment.

He loved me.

It warmed my heart, the fact that he didn’t need to say anything to tell me this.

He smiled down at me warmly, before lying back on his side and pulling me into his warm chest.

I could hear his heart beating quickly in his chest as my face was pushed up against it. This was where I felt safest.

“Baby, you are a work of art.” Noah whispered.

Unsure of what to reply with, I simply smiled up at my boyfriend.

“Seriously. You are. I don’t really know how else to show you.” He began, a pussy-drunk smile across his face. “So, I’m going to make love to you tonight, and worship you and your body like you deserve.”

My heart leapt in my chest.

“Let me worship you baby.” Noah whispered as he placed two fingers under my chin, raising it up enough to place a chaste kiss onto my lips before rolling back on top of me.

“I’m so lucky to get to see all of you.” He said before sliding his cock into me.

The rest of the night, and well into the morning, Noah made love to me.

Maybe he was right after all?

Maybe I do deserve to be worshipped?

[12thhouse-sun]

a bene placito

Gale x f!Tav

1.9k words

Explicit

AO3 Link

Tags: PWP, Cockwarming, Fluff, Inappropriate Use of Mage Hand. Literally just smut.

banner from @saradika

“You’re chipper for a man who had not three, not four, but six glasses of port last night.”

“That is because I have a talented, beautiful, benevolent wife who will cast Lesser Restoration at a moment’s notice and I would be a boor if I did not show her my utmost gratitude.”

There is a slight chill to the room that sparks goosebumps all over her skin, but Poppy doesn’t complain due to her warm and very naked husband laying on top of her. Gale’s lips traverse her collarbone and shoulders, sucking and biting his way across. Both of his large hands cup a breast each, oh so gently kneading the soft flesh in the way he knows riles her up.

“I think you just liked my tits in that dress I wore last night and you’re sore that you didn’t get to do anything about it until now.”

That cheeky Dekarios smirk tugs at the corners of his lips but the words that come out don’t match the look. “My stars, you know better than anyone that I don’t need any reason to worship your body. Though, if I had to have one, that dress would certainly qualify.”

Said dress is draped over her dressing screen, peeled off late last night once all of their guests went home. Their annual Midwinter party was a rousing success, too successful even. Poppy had hoped to sneak away with Gale at some point in the evening, but the tasks of hosts never dwindles. As such they were busy socializing and tending to their guests long into the evening and once they were alone Gale was too drunk and both were too exhausted to do anything about it, crawling into bed and passing out expeditiously.

Now, with the clarity that comes with the immediacy of a Lesser Restoration-cured hangover and a good night’s sleep, her husband initiates what they both missed out on last night.

Gale’s hands move with purpose, one of them skating down her side and over her ass, squeezing a little before gripping her thigh and hooking it over his own. His hot arousal presses against her abdomen insistently, a wordless promise.

She rolls her hips in an attempt to get her to touch her where she wants to most. Gale’s hands and mouth have been distinctly nowhere near her core, the ever-loving tease that he is, and she is not above begging. Gale chuckles into her neck but doesn’t otherwise move, continuing instead to coax bruises to bloom on her skin with every hard suck and bite.

“Gale,” Poppy whines, trying to roll her hips into his again.

“Mmmm I am quite busy at the moment, my love,” he murmurs between each kiss. “Do you need something?”

“I need you to touch me you insufferable man,” she gasps right as the hand on her breast tugs on her nipple sharply.

“But I am touching you—is this not acceptable? You know I always strive to do whatever it takes to make you feel good.” His eyes finally meet hers and they’re black as night and that smirk is now fully-formed as he revels in his power.

“Taste me, finger me, fuck me, please—”

“As you wish.” Gale surges up and Poppy is left cold without him pressed against her. He sits back on his heels and his hands move in a familiar motion. Poppy feels a tingling behind her knees that almost makes her laugh as two mage hands push her legs back and spread them, fully exposing her to her lover.

It’s been five years since Baldur’s Gate. Five years since they found each other, caught each other. They’re no longer struggling for food on the road, no longer walking miles and miles a day or working their bodies fighting for their lives. Gale sits before her, delightfully soft and alive. Scars from difficult injuries are long-faded, the orb now just a faint suggestion of a shape, and even more gray hairs dot his beard and course through his brown locks. It’s been five years since they fell in love and Poppy finds these days that she has somehow fallen even more in love with him, and has become even more attracted to him.

His own hands now free to do what they please, they graze along the soft inside of her thighs, making her tremble. The cool air has turned her nipples to hardened buds. They have not escaped Gale’s notice. Leaning forward, he sucks one bejeweled nipple into his mouth as one of his hands begins rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves at her center.

Her body reacts faster than her mouth at his touch, her hips quivering at his attentions but it’s when he bites her breast that suddenly her orgasm no longer seems far away. Gale doesn’t stop, doesn’t stutter; his deft fingers keep working her as if nothing has changed.

Poppy’s breaths come in gasps now and her hands scrabble for purchase in his soft hair. The moan she summons from him warms her chest and fills her with satisfaction. He may be leading this dance but it’s always reassuring to see that she still affects him as much as he affects her.

“Gale,” she moans, high-pitched and wanting. He growls against her chest now, his free hand shooting up to tug on her hair, arching her head back to expose her neck to him. Gale lavs on her throat with abandon and now that he’s pushed farther up her body, the hard and weeping head of his cock nudges her thigh.

His hand on her clit caresses her folds, drawing out her pleasure until he slips two fingers into her center, making her cry out his name again.

“Quite ready for me, aren’t you?” he whispers huskily into her ear, beard tickling the shell.

“Fuck please, please Gale.” Poppy’s mind reels with pleasure as his fingers curl inside her over and over and over.

Just as quickly as he starts, his hand is gone and she cries out at their absence. Poppy is about to question him when instead his hand in her hair grabs her hand, settling it over her head. His free hand directs his length to her entrance and he sheaths himself inside her in one fluid motion.

Their collective groans is a song, a harmony they have long practiced. Settling between her legs, Gale’s hands slide up her arms to link with hers above her head and he kisses her deeply.

Gale lays there unmoving while his hard cock throbs inside of her and Poppy trembles with anticipation. He has effectively trapped her, locked hands above her head and legs spread wide as they are with his dual mage hands.

It’s as if he were made for her, as if they were meant for each other this whole time. Even though there was a point where Poppy thought they wasted years not acting upon something that clearly was meant to be, it was only properly meant to be as it came together. They’re meant for each other now until the end of their days.

He has mastered her, truly. Everything is effortless with him, including her orgasms. Time is an illusion when they fuck and this is no different, but in these moments where their bodies are practically one and locked in place as she is, it’s as if she’s reached another level of pleasure. Poppy loves being close to Gale and despite the sweat that forms between them she glows in the sensation. He hasn’t moved but suddenly the crash is there, waves of pleasure pulsing through her as his cock warms itself within her; the stretch of his cock and the press of him against her body are enough. He is always enough.

“Sweet hells,” Gale groans. “I will never tire of feeling your ecstasy around me. Every time serves as a reminder as to how lucky I am to be able to pleasure you.”

His hips start moving then at the peak of her overstimulation. It’s so good and too much and just right all at once. Gale’s favorite thing is to draw out their pleasure for as long as possible but he reveals himself and how far gone he is when he doesn’t measure his pace. Her wizard’s ruts into her relentlessly, hips pistoning against hers as if they were on a time limit.

“Fuck, fuck,” Poppy cries as he tugs her pleasure to the forefront once more.

“Are you going to come for me again? You sound so sweet when you sing for me. A song only I get to hear, something all for me.”

If it were warm enough to keep their windows open, there would be no denying to passers-by outside what is happening in this room. The vulgar sounds of their bodies slapping together and their mutual keens of rapture are explicit and undeniable.

“You astonish me,” he gasps as he fucks her. “I have lost count how often I’ve bedded you but each time feels like the first. It is a privilege to stand beside you and call myself yours, and a luxury to be the one you call home.”

How he manages to keep talking and find new things to say every time is the truly astonishing thing, but Poppy’s not one to converse or needle him when in this position. Gale is quite effective at trumping those desires, making room only for one desire between them.

“Come for me, come for me my love. I need to feel you fall apart again. Can you do that for me?”

Anything. She’d do anything for him. And the fact that he’s asking her to come? Not the first time but the second time today? It’s the easiest decision she’ll make all day. It’s not even a decision but rather an inevitability. He knows her too well and gods she wants to make him come his brains out too.

Their shared breath is hot where they pant into each other’s mouths. Gale’s hair drapes around her face and shuts the rest of the world out so she can only focus on him. His eyes are desperate and all-consuming and that pout has always been her weakness.

“Yes Gale yes!” Poppy cries, finding her peak and falling over the other side. Her hips thrash against his stuttering ones as he comes with her, hands clenching hers as if she were actually falling.

Sweat clings to her skin like her favorite dress, Gale more than willing to help her remove it. He licks at her salty skin between heaving breaths, making Poppy twitch and shake in the overstimulation.

Gale releases her hands and it’s an effort to lift them to drape over his own sweat-soaked back. His mouth doesn’t stop working, cleaning her neck and shoulders with his tongue.

“I think a bath would be easier, love,” Poppy pants, exhausted.

“That will have to wait, unfortunately. I am not quite done with you yet.”

Gale lifts himself up on one arm and cups her face with the other hand. His thumb pulls at her bottom lip and his eyes dance across her face. “Yes, I am nowhere near done with you.”

Poppy can feel his cock softening inside her but his face betrays his enduring arousal. “Whatever you want,” she hums. “Whatever you have in mind I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Indeed you will, my heart. Now roll over, I have not paid nearly enough attention to your derrière and I cannot abide by my temporary disregard any longer.”

@dr-demi-bee @lanafofana @spooky-lil-bee @feedthepheasants @waterdeep-weavemoss @crimson-and-lavender @pouroverpaloma @marlowethebard

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.12.23

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Better not pout by @maesterchill [T, 1k]

Harry drags Draco to the cinema the day before Christmas Eve. Just as friends. Or maybe co-workers with benefits. Or... maybe more?

2. the keys you keep by @venrain [M, 105k]

Months after Harry is promoted to Head of Magical Law Enforcement, tragedy strikes. Cursed, Harry blames himself and flees to the States. And he's doing fine; really, he's having a grand time hiding from the world, drinking himself into a stupor, and losing himself in west Manhattan. Then, he stumbles into a lounge bar.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. Just a little liquid luck by Anonymous [E, 5k]

Tracking the movement of Potter’s eyes, Draco runs a greasy finger over the thickest of his scars. “You like them, don’t you? Pervert.” [...] ★ H/D Erised 2024 | @hd-erised

2. My Mate by Anonymous [E, 26k] 💗

Harry is a new Alpha and Draco is his Omega Healer. Draco wants to help Harry but Draco struggles to control himself whenever he is around. And Harry wants to breed Draco. Desperately so. Things come to a head when Draco and Harry become trapped with one another. Draco doesn't have his suppressant and it sends them both into heat. [...] ★ H/D Erised 2024 | @hd-erised

3. What a Kiss Looks Like by @evenmyzefronposter [E, 2k]

Harry is bad at Pictionary. Or maybe he wants more than a board game win. ★ Fifth Annual Dirty Festivus: Filthy and F*ckable

4. when the birds are heard again in their singing by @matredaen [T, 2k]

Harry hadn't been able to make it to the Hound and Hare's Thursday Trivia Night, which was a shame because Draco had specifically invited him—but unfortunately the moon waits for no man. Or, well. No wolf. He expects to spend the grey dim light of his Friday morning licking his wounds, both literal and metaphorical. He doesn't expect the barn owl, or the little care package clutched in her talons. ★ DCC Holiday Exchange

[ottpopfic]

Leo stretched out in the papasan of Jason’s little den nest thing in his office, his man laid out on top of him on his back snuggled between his legs. He's far enough down that Leo can rest his Switch on his head, fluffy blond hair in his fingers as he plays Pokemon. Jason is hurriedly flipping through a paper back, one that Leo knows Calypso gave him. That means it's a fifty/fifty chance it is a Horney Book Club book, and Jason is ether about to read him a passage aloud all romantic that he think he will like or he's going to have the book shoved in his face so he can read himself something filthy Jason wants to do with him

It turns out to be the latter

“Here here” Jason finally says, thrusting the book over his head and into Leo’s face “This part”

They trade, Leo taking the paperback and handing down his Switch so Jason can finish catching the Drifloon he's after.

Its absolutely a Horny Book Club book, what he's handed is mid-smut. It's two guys this time (Jason doesn't have a preference in spicy stories, only that both characters are sickeningly in love) and there is a lot of hand stuff going on. That's not new to them, they are both very handsy, but the finger-banging is new

“You want me to put my fingers in your butt?” Leo clarifies

“Not when you say it like that” Jason pouts, throwing another great ball at the balloon Pokemon “just keep reading”

Leo does, turning the page. He can tell Jason has re-read this part multiple times, the edge of the paper slightly more warn. He starts to understand what his man is getting at; the reactions that one character is pulling out of the other, the way everything is focused on the guy receiving, the something inside of him that is making him pleasure drunk and desperate, how the man giving is not being touched past kisses and hands in his hair

“Oh” Leo says, turning the page again “Oh you wanna do this to me”

“Yeah” Jason replies, naming the Drifloon something in Latin and starting to wander around in the tall grass in the game

“Is the coming more than once a book thing or a real thing?” Leo asks, turning the page again, it's really heating up now. He has no clue how both Cal and Jason can read this shit with a straight face in public no less

“I did some research” Jason says, kicking the shit out of a Bidoof “it depends on the person”

“You think you could get me to do that?�� Leo asks pink in the ears, peeking down at his man over the top of the book

Jason peers up at him, a mischievous glint in his eye and a single canine flashing under his scar “Won't know until we try?”

[pursuitseternal]

“A Night with the Ascendant:” Chapter 7

Lord Astarion x F!OC (Lumina) | M | 2k

🎨by @/WackyDaArt on X and Instagram

Summary: Another soirée, this time in honor of the Master’s new Bride. Tensions rise, old and new, past and present, and one choice made to do something about her past will not go unnoticed.

Cw: harem dynamics, sexual tension, angst and yearning

Previous ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 7…

Too loud… too bright… this soirée was just too… well, too.

Lumina watched it all from her perch, which just happened to be Astarion’s lap. Every movement she made earned her a groan or a breath of hot air in that sweet spot behind her ear. “For you,” he purred, nearly incessantly as his hands wandered her body, his longer nails digging into the silks and embroidery of her dress just to keep her alert.

And burning.

Even if her body responded to his touch, her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes followed the spawn around the room, watching their careful movements, the way they avoided looking at her… at him… except for furtive glances that teemed with resentment. And yet, even as she sat there, his velvet thigh under her, fingers raking her side, she festered… she knew the imbalance it was. That he wouldn’t take them to bed again, but kept them leashed at his will. That they would only be let to play when he deemed it so.

Unjust. Indentured.

Closing her eyes, she pictured her own indentured servitude, the memories so intense they made her head swim, flooding every sense, right down to the stink of her cotton mat where she was allowed to lay her head in the back room.

“Little love, why are you grinding your teeth?” He rumbled right into her ear. “Are you not enjoying being the center of attention?” his lips pressed shockingly damp kisses down the curve of her neck, his tongue slipping out to lick up the twin scars on the right side of her neck.

Lumina swallowed her moan, the instant feeling of a dozen red eyes on her stealing whatever pleasure his mouth had intended. Frigid, her body cooled, her mind screamed that it wasn’t fair. Not even a tenday ago, it would have been her in the crowd, too much skin showing for comfort just to attract a willing neck or cock to satisfy her hunger.

But all because she had his love… because she was the object of his obsession, his Bride, she sat comfortably against his cock, glass of wine in her fist. It felt wrong to preside over such a show of elegance when all she had come from was suffering, when all she had known was servitude.

And still the servitude lingered. Those spawn eyes glimmering with hate more and more as the revelry continued.

Not fair… not just… not… heroic. She stiffened in his lap and moved to stand. “My lord, my love, I need to stretch,” she poured out a million excuses, feeling the close scrutiny that always followed tonight.

“Where will you go, little love?” He purred, staying at her side even as she slipped down the stairs of his dais. Arms wrapped around her, and he gracefully, smoothly controlled her, maneuvering her towards the dance floor. “Surely there is no great comfort or pleasure than right here where you belong,” his voice dropped into this chest, “in my arms.”

Her body moved with his as one, melting against him, molded to his very ascended being. As if the blood in her veins yearned to return to its source. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling flood her. Gone was the melody of the bards and minstrels. There was only his heart beating hard enough for them both. And yet, every glance of glowing crimson eyes in the dark, in the crowd gave her pause.

She wasn’t a part of their existence. A spawn of a tenday before she was plucked and transformed into his Bride. Hesitantly, her eyes roamed up to his face…. And she wished to the gods she hadn’t.

Those crimson orbs seemed to draw in her very soul, the way they sparkled, bright red and black. His pupils grew fuller, more dilated the longer she stared into them. His long, silver hair fell over his shoulder, a hint of a mess, even in such perfect pretenses as a ball.

“What is it, my love?” he rasped, bringing his plush lips to her forehead, caressing it softly. “Do you need a moment for the two of us?”

Lumina nodded, and Astarion was more than willing to twirl her to the edge of the space and then guide her walking quickly to the terrace off the ballroom. As he walked into the crisp night, he recalled ordering this built in place of… his study and the elevator to the dungeons. He had seen that destroyed, a spacious veranda overlooking the gardens erected in its place.

He pulled her into the cool summer’s night, a gentle breeze off the Sea of Swords carrying a fresh scent to the heat of bodies in the ballroom. He looked at her face, the way the moonlight made her pale features even more pallid in the light. “My treasure, what troubles you?” he purred, watching as she didn’t turn her head, as her eyes just fixated into the distance beyond the walls of his palace. Her jaw clenched, her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and it didn’t take their sire bond for him to know her mind was elsewhere.

“My love, you know… I don’t care where you came from,” he rasped, pulling her back to his front. “Human or infernal, rich or servant… I only care that you are now mine, in my arms… in my bed…” He couldn’t help but feel his arousal, his heat pool in his groin with his possessiveness.

Lumina reaches a cool hand, running it gently up his cheek to weave her fingers in the unruly strands of his silver hair at the nape of his neck. “I know it, my Lord. And yet….” she trailed off, her small frame tense in his embrace.

“And yet?” he insisted, his hands gripping her hips harder, his nails digging into the fabric of her elegant gown to give her a grounding edge of pain.

Lumina stayed silent, trying her best to keep him from the darkest thoughts and memories she hid in her mind. She puts on a practiced smile and turns in his arms to face him. “Oh my Lord, I’m sorry for being so… foolish. If you find me worthy then…” she stands up on her tiptoes and cups his cheeks. “Then worthy I am…”

She holds her breath, diving up to kiss his plush lips. Satisfied with her ruse, she hears him growl in the back of his throat, fangs dragging her bottom lip. “Astarion…” she rasped into his fanged caress, lacing it with all her desire for him down their bond…. And she instantly felt the pulse of his in turn, stronger, more intensely. More obsessively.

“Lumina…”’ her name is barely audible in his husky tones, his hands on her hips turn her and shove her back against the Palace’s outer wall. Her body instantly succumbed, bending and melting to the firm heat of his frame that pushed against him.

“My bride, you temptress, threatening to undo me so close to your festivities? Tch, reckless and roguish, my love…”

“Hmmm, I only aim to please. In fact, what if we do something just you and I that is extremely un-lordly and un-lady-like? What if we meet in our chambers… just for a spell while everyone else mingles?” She flashed him her most alluring, most seductive smile.

He sighed through his nose, heavy lidded as he smirked down at her. “How could I say no?” he purred, releasing her slowly, dragging his warm hands off her body as slowly as possible. He leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear, sucking it, nipping it with his blunted teeth. “I’ll give you ten minutes of a head start. I expect you on your knees… beside my bed… patient and good.”

Lumina looked up at him, a coy smile on her cool lips. “Of course, my Lord,” she whispered her reply, grabbing her skirts and leaving through the balcony doors.

Only, she did not ascend to the bedrooms once she left the gathering.

She went down… down to the basement. Down to the vacant spawn dormitories. Down where she could rifle through her old things and grab a dagger and a cloak and breeches. Stopping by the chamberlain’s desk on her way out to the Lower City Wall, she grabbed a scroll of invisibility and a couple healing potions.

Casting the spell, she felt the sting of the magic making her unseen.

That’s when she heard footsteps… and a tail swishing along with the rustle of a dress.

Morana crept down the stairs, her dark blue nose sniffing as her red eyes landed on her location. “You have to either be an idiot or ungrateful if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, his sweet little Bride…”

Lumina cursed under her breath, definitely validating her location.

Those dark red eyes locked on her instantly, and she had to dodge and roll as her long dark tail jutted out as if to catch her… or trap her. But she just managed to evade her, the invisibility her advantage as Morana just trashed wildly.

“Running already? Barely given the gift you don’t deserve and you flee, ha!” Morana’s voice turned shrill, her fingers fleeing to show her long nails, her claws. “Why, I have half a mind to tell him of your little indescretion now… or perhaps I won’t… let him piece out your audacity himself…”

She sniggers, “Either way, you pathetic girl, he’s going to be so… angry at you. I hope whatever you are sneaking off to do is worth the punishment you’ll get when he finds you… not if.”

With that, the door to the walls flung open with invisible hands, and Morana was left alone. Nothing but her heaving breaths and glowering frown for company. She swished her skirts behind her, returning back to the ballroom in an instant, heading for the Master.

She caught his attention, a practiced smile on her mouth as she gave him a deferential curtsy, her tail barely brushing the side of his leg as she did so. “My Lord, aren’t you missing your favorite little accessory?” she sneered slightly.

He stiffened. “Why does it concern you, Morana?” his brows knit as he whispered. “Have you not found your own pleasure this evening? Free choice of the guests? Necks and beds aplenty.” His gaze assessed her, curiously scrutinizing her with those red eyes. “Is what I offer now better? I don’t know why you’re complaining?”

For a brief moment, she looked at him, despair, hurt in her eyes. Then she shook it off. “Don’t fret about me, my Lord. Worry about your Bride. I saw her… she was most eager and in a hurry.” Her face was schooled back in that easy smile as her tail resumed its lazy swishing.

His thick silver brow arched, his eyes glittering in the light. “I’m most certain she is,” he purred, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Please, Morana, find something to enjoy tonight,” he whispered before taking his leave through the crowd.

She looked at the way he pushed through the crowd, the way she could single out his boots in the din, the beating of his heart over the music. “Oh I already had found what I would enjoy most… never to enjoy again…” she barely whispered to herself before she picked up her skirts and pushed deeper into the ballroom.

The wine definitely had rushed to his head, the same way the vision of her naked body kneeling and ready for him made his desire pool in his groin. Fuck, if he wasn’t already hard as he climbed the palace stairs. And yet, as he pushed open the door to his chambers, his body cooled and his mind sobered to find it empty.

“Lumina?” he called. But only his own voice purred back at him as the night began to fall beyond the palace walls.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Thank you to @nyx-knox and @marimosalad for their cheerleading and betaing.

And to @scrapsovereign bc they got the fire back under me to finish this update. 😘

[projectcrimson]

TRAITS THAT SHOULD BE IN WHB

—» I NEED MORE OF THE CHARACTERS TO BE BLACK SO I CAN SIMP ON MORE HOT OTOME BLACK PEOPLE. JUST ONE IS FINE, IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THE KINGS, LIKE SIMEON FROM OBEY ME 😭😭😭

—» Minhyeok has dimples when he smiles. His eyes are obsidian and has a dark purple hue, that can be mistaken as black, in his irises. He pays attention to whatever you have to say in the room or in a conversation with someone else, the person involved would be disgusted at the way Minhyeok looks at you lol.

—» If you had any trouble with your academics or needed something during said conversation, he would give it to you the next day or help with what you had to do for school, cook you a meal, and prepare your bath. His love language are acts of service and quality time, he doesn't mind in engaging any physical contact to make you happy since it counts as quality time in his eyes. —» MC's canines are similar to and sharp as a snake while your eyes are shaped like an owl. You nibble Minhyeok when you're hungry, mostly on the hand or neck.

—» Beelzebub likes to play with your hand, comparing it to his, intertwining yours with his, massaging the fingers, tracing the lines on your palm, and kissing your knuckles with the (if you have any) callouses/scars. —» Belphegor has eye bags despite sleeping all the time. 

—» Satan has wavy hair, if it was brushed properly through his chaotic locks.

—» Satan twirls a lock of his hair when he's bored.

—» Leviathan's irises cover his eyes and turn into black when you fluster him (As reference: My In-Laws Are Obsessed With Me, S2 Ep 96). Speaking of which, on bed, you will see the blush spread from his nape, cheeks, chest, shoulders, knees, di— Everywhere, except his feet. He avoids you the next day out of embarrassment.

—» Lucifer gets clingy in the morning, only to you. When he gets flustered, especially from praises/complements, he would cling onto you with a straight face and rub his head against your neck for more complements. 

—» Lucifer's body temperature is cold as an iceberg.

—» Lucifer's eyes are sharp, similar to a dragon and his irises narrow into slits if in danger or see someone as a threat. His eyes looked much softer when he was an angel. (piercings and muscles doesn't have to be every one of the Kings body traits!!)

—» Lucifer is unaware of most innuendos and flirting (since he isn't interested), so unless you want to fuck him, you have to say it straightforwardly and blatantly.

—» Sitri rest his head on your chest to hear your heartbeat. He likes to be the smaller spoon than the big spoon.

—» NOT AN HC, THIS IS CANON Belphegor makes a sound akin to a purr when he cuddles with you, he's unaware of this fact. Except Beleth >:)

—» Asmodeus has cauliflower ears and the tip of his ears are a bit pointy and his tongue is naturally long.

—» Asmodeus pupils turn into hearts when engaging in any sexual activity or in love with someone— which is rare, even if he has intercourse with other humans.

—» Foras face has freckles on his nose bridge like Felix from Stray Kids.

—» Bael has freckles too, on his hands, shoulders, chest, and knees.

—» Gamingin's eyes are shaped like a puppy, his mouth is molded into a cupid's bow.

—» Sitri is in second place for having a fat ass and fatter thighs. (HIS PANTS ARE SUFFOCATING THAT CAKE)

—» Y'all know very well that Sitri is in the spectrum of a yandere. He keeps whatever you give him, even if it is a rock, and stores it in his room. He doesn't allow anyone to come into his office other than you and Satan.

—» He shows off the marks you set on his skin, digs his nails into your hips, has your heartbeat as his ringtone, made sure his scent clings onto your skin for two months or longer, and proud of himself in having self control for his lust of you, otherwise, he would've pounced on you every given time.

—» Beleth has curly hair but he irons and apply hair gel because he thinks it's a hassle.

—» Amon likes to play with your hair, he tugs it to see your cute expressions, twirls it, styles it, smells it, and grips it whenever you go down to suck or kiss him.

—» Adrelpheus is blind, therefore, he has to court you through words and actions. I'd like to think that he does poetry, out of boredom, at the side so he has that poetic rizz that'd make you swoon. He can also make origami.

—» Beleth likes slow, languished make out sessions and press pecks across your face before kissing your lips. If you think he's into anything crazy, he does that to his one night stands, but towards you; you're special. You don't deserve to be used quickly and tossed aside once finished, no, no, no... He loooooves to have rough but slow sex with you so he can worship your body as it should be. This is a fact, not a head cannon.

—» Beel wanted to eat you the second he saw you, because you were Solomon and if he ate you, you wouldn't leave him again.

—» Beel is a picky eater, particularly towards vegetables.

[justkeepshippingg]

Cherry bomb Part 3: a Caitvi Hate fuck fanfic

Summary: She gives in. She lets Vi top her. Fuck if she hasn’t been waiting for this all night. Part one: Cait’s POV Part two: Vi's POV

Cait lays on her back in the mess of Vi’s room. Her plump ass sinks into unmailed letters and abandoned lids and liquor bottles, red ones and green ones and purple ones that glimmer when they catch the light of the fire. She leans back on her forearms and digs her nails into the earth below her. She looks up at Vi, and she’d swear there’s still love in her eyes even here, even now, with her pupils blown and her need a raging fire warming her cheeks.

Vi, on her knees, between her knees, and her entire expression is wide open: bright-eyed and lips parted with the force of her breath, the way she fucking pants for her, for Cait, and the way Cait knows she’s panting right back.

“Fuck you,” Vi says, the scar on her lip jumping as she speaks, “for looking so good right now.” 

Cait loses all patience and flings her body upward, wrapping her arms around Vi until her elbows lock behind her tattooed neck. Vi grabs her with one hand digging into the curve of her shoulder blade and the other at her face, thumb on her cheek, her jaw, her throat. Open mouths meet and part and lick. Cait loses track of who is kissing who, who is touching who, who forces their mouths nice and wide and spits, who shudders and swallows, who drags nails down and down and down and who’s in charge, here, really?

“You look,” Cait says, “beautiful.”

Vi looks away. “Get on your knees.”

The answer is clear. Cait is being forced onto her hands and knees and her tits spill out of her bra and meet the ground. She wishes they were at her place with their scraped knees and fevered palms on lush carpet with a drawer full of straps nearby. She remembers the one time she came closer to asking Vi to let her wear it and hates herself for not opening her mouth. 

She gives in. She lets Vi top her.

Fuck if she hasn’t been waiting for this all night.

“Is this okay?” Vi grunts into her ear as she tugs her clothes off, treating Cait like she’s a doll, but also like she’s a princess. Sure, Vi’s hands are rough, with callouses that scrape at the wide curve of Caitlyn’s hip, but her lips kiss at Caitlyn’s throat like she might still love her. The balance of it, pleasure and pain, is what gets Caitlyn to answer by sliding her thighs further apart and letting Vi take over. She feels the cool air hit her center and a jolt of wetness follows. Full , she wants to be full. She wants Vi to wear her like a puppet, elbow-deep in her.  

Cait hears, from her position bent right into the ground, as Vi removes her own clothing. She wants to turn around and watch as each muscle is revealed, but that’s not the game. She follows the rules. She feels, with her forehead thrust into the sad wooden floor, Vi grip her hips and sighs into the skin of her back. Vi bites, one side and the other of her fleshy hips, her wet mouth marking Caitlyn. Vi’s entire front comes to rest, heavy and sweaty, on Caitlyn’s back, and she gives her her full weight, a sort of gift. Unspoken communication: You have me . All of me.

They both shiver as heat tears its way through their bodies.

Cait can feel the heat of Vi’s own cunt against her ass, and she feels sweat begin to pour down her cheeks.

Vi rolls two fingers at Cait’s entrance, slipping through her from behind, calloused fingertips against soft, soaked folds, moving easily. How many times have I come? Cait wonders, and then she wonders, much more importantly: how many times will I, now?

Vi answers by shoving her pointer and middle finger inside of Cait’s entrance, spongy and waiting and so far gone it’s not even funny. Any teasing is gone. The sound is obscene. Cait groans, her sounds matched by the ones that tear out of Vi’s throat, her mouth right by Cait’s ear, her breath hot and alcohol-sweet. Vi’s too-long hair sweeps along Caitlyn’s spine, creating a strangely soothing sensation as Vi fucks her in earnest, Vi’s front body rutting against Caitlyn’s back. She grunts and groans, shifting her hips and trying to get closer to the feeling starting to boil low in her cunt.

Each thrust brings their bodies closer, and each thrust brings Caitlyn closer to another orgasm. She bites down on her bottom lip to try and silence the keening that rips past her lips. Vi grips the back of Cait’s throat with her free hand and squeezes slightly. “Oh, Cait,” Vi groans. “You’re being so good for me.” 

Caitlyn feels it: the white heat tearing from her toes and up her ankles, wrapping around her ankles like teasing fingertips before darting up her knees, her thighs, her ass, finding itself at her center, the heat a sprint that rushes her core all at once. Cait shudders, wet pouring from her and soaking her all the way down the front of her thighs. Her entire face is damp with what might be tears and what might be sweat. She feels the heat of Vi behind her, her cunt pulsing at her low back. 

“I need,” Caitlyn pants. “A second.”

“No,” Vi says, but her fingers still.

Alarm flushes through Caitlyn. “No?”

“You don’t really need a break,” Vi whispers, her own hips still rolling at Caitlyn’s ass, “do you, Cupcake?”

Caitlyn’s surprised to feel something like lust seize her. “I…” She considers. “I suppose I could try,” her voice drops. “For you, Violet.”

“Look at you,” Vi says. Her voice is light, pleased, but Caitlyn knows the use of her full name hits her. “Being so good for me.”

Vi begins to move again, and Caitlyn shouts, curses pouring from her lips. Two fingers has become three, quickly becoming four and stretching Caitlyn’s insides. Vi’s fingers thrust hard and fast, no loving curls or attempts to hit her g-spot happening here. Instead, they move with purpose, pushing and pushing and pushing, their ramming speed only softened by Caitlyn’s wet curls at their base.

“Oh my god,” Cait says. “Oh, Vi.” It’s already starting, that build-up, shakier and unsure of itself as it starts right at Caitlyn’s cunt. There is no flutter. It’s a simple burst, an explosion hurtling Caitlyn higher and higher as she groans through her orgasm, squeezing around Vi’s fingers.

“Can you take more?” Vi asks. Her body is soaked with Caitlyn’s come and their sweat and Caitlyn wonders as she feels wetness pouring down her ass if Vi just came from rutting around on top of her.

The thought of it is enough to fuel Caitlyn through her desire to, simply, go to sleep. “ Yes ,” Caitlyn says, her cheek aching where it’s pressed against the floor.

“Come here,” Vi says. Her voice is softer now as she shifts Caitlyn back. She plants one of Caitlyn’s hands on the floor, and then her other. She brings Caitlyn to sit on her front and reaches around, rolling her fingers through Caitlyn’s curls and right to her clit.

Caitlyn flinches. She’s so sensitive that she can’t tell if it hurts, or if she’s closer to god than she’s ever been and ever will be. Her entire being is consumed with that zip of lightning concentrated at her core. Her thighs are shaking, her lips are trembling, and she kind of wants to rear back and slap Vi right in the face when Vi presses down hard on her clit.

Vi must notice the shift in Caitlyn’s energy as she shudders. “Trust me,” Vi whispers, her lips right at Caitlyn’s ears. She drags her tongue along the outer edge of her ear, bringing it lower and lower, through the damp blue hairs curling around her ear and her neck.

She sinks her teeth into Caitlyn’s neck and smacks her, hard, on her cunt.

Something brand new rips through Caitlyn, and, mouth open in a silent scream, she collapses into Vi’s waiting arms. 

[rosella-writes]

"Dust floating in golden sunlight" for Solas and Cassandra?

They're in love.

For @dadrunkwriting, some DAI-era Solas x Cassandra with some slight suggestive themes and casual nudity.

asha'dirthar: she who seeks after wisdom

~~~

In her modest quarters above the blacksmith’s forge, Cassandra Pentaghast sat at the window, a hand mirror propped against the jamb. She hunched, undressed and with the posture of a person utterly at home, peering at her reflection as she carefully braided the long lock of hair at the nape of her neck. 

Solas, similarly naked and at home, laid on her unmade bed and watched. 

Dust motes hung in the dawning light of day, suspended in time around Cassandra’s muscled frame — they swirled in a sudden shift of the air as the Seeker’s hand passed through them, quickly plaiting a strand of hair and replacing the one she held between her lips. Her method was quick and sure, one born of habit. 

Her bent back exposed the bumps of her spine only between her lower ribs. The rest of her was made of muscle upon generous flesh upon more muscle — her shoulders bunched and worked, as did her arms as she braided. The two valleys of strength in the small of her back, Solas noted with fierce pride, were covered with dark marks, kissed there with a biting mouth. His mouth. 

The trail wrapped around her waist, along with a few reddened stripes, as if from grasping nails. More kisses marked where her belly folded. More on the underside of her breast. One still glistened in the new light of day — love so recently placed on her neck that it had not had the chance to dry. 

“I feel your eyes,” Cassandra chuckled dryly. She wrapped the end of her braid with a strand of waxed thread. “Haven’t you consumed me enough?”

I have not, he thought, sure that he was just shy of starvation. 

“Come here, asha’dirthar,” he said, reaching out a hand. 

The warrior’s burden she carried dropped away as she tossed the finished braid over her shoulder —  instead, a girlish giddiness took over in her scarred smile, in the way she hurried back to bed, in the way she kissed him again with a giggle at the back of her throat.

[yuujispinkhair]

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 15 - Epilogue)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 2.8k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Chapter 15 - Epilogue

We can meet in the middle, bodies and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight when all the stars align for you and I. (You and I - Stripped by PVRIS)

Sukuna's hand is clutched tightly in Yuuji's as they enter the small park in front of their apartment. Not for their daily morning run this time but for a stroll in the evening. Yuuji wants to see the fairy lights and LED decorations that have been put up all over the park for Christmas. And, of course, Sukuna can't say no to him, and so he lets Yuuji pull him excitedly along.

Yuuji is marveling at the pretty lights, and Sukuna has to admit that it looks pretty the way all those colorful lights turn the park into a magical-looking winter wonderland. Though Sukuna's gaze, more often than not, strays from the decorations along the path to the young man beside him.

He smiles softly as he watches Yuuji and sees the childlike happiness on his face as Yuuji takes in all the decorations. No matter how many terrible things have happened to Yuuji over the years, he is still able to find genuine joy in these simple things. An admirable trait, Sukuna thinks. Something he used to see as naivety, but now he knows it is part of the immense strength that Yuuji has.

Yuuji catches Sukuna staring at him and grins broadly, giving Sukuna's hand a squeeze as he jerks his chin towards the decorated park,

"Do you like it? It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Just like you, my love."

Sukuna smiles at Yuuji, and Yuuji throws his head back, laughing that delighted laughter that lights up his whole face, before he bumps into Sukuna's side and presses a firm kiss onto Sukuna's cheek,

"Aww baby, you are making me blush!"

He keeps peppering little kisses all over Sukuna's cheek, making Sukuna laugh and call him a huge brat affectionately, gently pushing at Yuuji's shoulders until the boy stops and smiles at him, big golden eyes gazing pensively at Sukuna as Yuuji adds in a much softer voice,

"I am so happy to be here with you. I'm so happy we are together."

He is still standing so close to Sukuna, and his golden eyes gaze deeply into Sukuna's, holding absolute sincerity and that unwavering conviction that only Itadori Yuuji has.

Sukuna's breath catches in his throat. A few weeks ago, he thought he had lost Yuuji and everything that had been between them. He thought he didn't deserve Yuuji's kindness and love. And yet, now they are here together again, and no words could ever be powerful enough to convey how grateful Sukuna is for that. But he tries anyway,

"Yuuji?"

"Yes?"

Those golden eyes look at him with so much love, and Sukuna feels himself falling even deeper into the warmth and safety that Itadori Yuuji has become to him. All the people around them disappear. There is only Yuuji standing in front of Sukuna in the middle of their park, the place they have made so many memories in, and the words tumble so easily from Sukuna's mouth all of a sudden, so honest, so raw but unafraid because he knows Yuuji will always be gentle with Sukuna's heart.

"Thank you for wanting to stay by my side even after you discovered the truth. Thank you for giving me a chance to learn how beautiful it can be just to exist as a human being. For a thousand years, I thought the moment I would be reincarnated, I would bring a reign of terror over humanity and gradually destroy this world. But now I don't want that anymore. How could I destroy this world when you live in it and when I can find so much happiness in it with you? You taught me love and how to enjoy all these little human things, like this Christmas garden with those fairy lights.

There is a red string of fate tying us together. I didn't realize it initially, but it was always meant to be. You were made for me. And I was meant to find you in this life. Even when I forcibly separated us, I couldn't walk away from you because something bound me to you. Do you know that I felt a phantom pain in my chest because we weren't sharing a body anymore? I needed you near me to make it stop.

My first life wasn't a good one. But I am one of the few blessed ones who got a second chance, and I want to do it better this time. I want to walk a different path, and I think with you by my side, I can do it. Will you stay with me, Yuuji? Will you walk on this new path with me? Will you help me live a better life? Will you help me be a human man instead of a monster?"

Sukuna's breath comes out as little foggy clouds in the freezing night air, adding to the magical atmosphere the park has tonight. And Yuuji is smiling at him while tears glitter in his beautiful eyes.

"Of course I will. I will always stay with you. And as I said before, you aren't a monster to me, Sukuna. Let's try our best to live a happy life and be as human as possible."

A pair of strong arms wraps around Sukuna's waist, comforting him, anchoring him to this world, to this life.

Sukuna wraps his arms around Yuuji, too, holding him while he tells him,

"I used to think the only things that mattered were power and strength. But you showed me other things. These things that I have with you... going to the park, watching movies, cooking together, and all those other small things that bring so much joy and peace. I want this. I want what we have. I want this quiet, happy life with you."

Sukuna cups Yuuji's cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb. And he adds after a moment, with a soft voice full of tenderness,

"I want this until my last dying breath. You and me. Yuuji and Sukuna. I want us to be together in this life and every other life that comes after it."

He knows it will happen because he knows their souls will always find each other again in every life in every alternate universe. Their connection has been woven into what holds this universe together. There is no doubt about it.

And Yuuji seems to know it, too, with the way he beams at Sukuna and smiles that sweet, happy smile. He leans into Sukuna's touch and reaches out to mimic Sukuna's gesture, cupping Sukuna's cheek with his hand and cradling Sukuna's face gently in his palm,

"I want that, too. You and I, that's how it's supposed to be. You're my home, and I am yours. Forever. I promise you, Kuna."

Sukuna smiles softly. The phantom pain in his chest is gone completely, replaced by a comforting warmth. He closes the remaining distance between them by pressing his lips to Yuuji's in a slow, tender kiss.

Sukuna doesn't know how long they stand there in the park in front of their shrine, just kissing and holding each other while the world moves on around them. But Sukuna becomes aware of a cold sensation on his forehead, and at the same moment, Yuuji pulls slightly away to look up at the sky and exclaim loudly,

"It's snowing! Look how pretty!"

Of course, Sukuna is used to snow. There was a lot more of it back in Heian times than there is nowadays. Back then, it was a nuisance. Too cold, too wet, turning the paths that lead to Sukuna's temple into mud that stuck uncomfortably to his feet. But right now, here with Yuuji, Sukuna can appreciate the beauty of the thick white snowflakes that slowly fall down around them, as if time has slowed down and everything happens in slow motion. It's peaceful. Beautiful.

Yuuji laughs and takes a step back, grabbing Sukuna's hands and giving them a squeeze as his eyes sparkle happily,

"Come on, dance with me in the snow! I always wanted to do that!"

Sukuna huffs and laughs, but he reaches out immediately when Yuuji slips on some snow-covered leaves on the ground, catching him before he can fall, and it only makes Yuuji laugh louder.

One of Sukuna's arms is wrapped around Yuuji's waist, holding him, and their eyes lock. For a long moment, they just look at each other, two people lost in each other's eyes. Two people who are each other's world. And suddenly, Sukuna knows that, yes, he will dance with Yuuji in the snow. Because why not? In this life, he can have all those little joys. The boy he loves wants to dance in the snow with him, and Sukuna would be a fool to say no.

He grins at Yuuji and tightens his arm around Yuuji's waist, pulling him closer. Sukuna is leading the dance, steering Yuuji in the right direction, spinning him slowly around while the snowflakes fall down around them, joining in on Sukuna's and Yuuji's slow dance.

Yuuji is laughing unrestrainedly, loud and happy while Sukuna tries to keep an aloof expression, but he fails and instead begins laughing too, as he continues to spin Yuuji around, careful not to let him fall, a strong arm wrapped safely around Yuuji's waist, the fingers of his other hand gently interlaced with Yuuji's. Sukuna dips Yuuji down, causing Yuuji to laugh even louder as the snowflakes tumble down around him and land on his pink hair like a crown. Sukuna can't stop staring at him, mesmerized by Yuuji's beauty, not just by the beauty of his face but also by the beauty of his soul.

5 years later

Sukuna wakes up to the feeling of a warm, heavy body lying half on top of him and soft hair lightly tickling his chin. The feeling of Yuuji wrapped around him like a lazy cat. And Sukuna smiles softly to himself as he runs a large hand through the soft pink hair, caressing it in a gesture so tender it still manages to surprise him even so many years later.

Yuuji never got his memories back, but he told Sukuna he doesn't mind. We are creating new memories every day, and that's all that counts. That's what Yuuji said to Sukuna, smiling that sweet sunshine smile at him, a typical display of his optimistic nature. And Sukuna smiled back and kissed him.

Yes, that is all they need. Yuuji is happy with his life, with the here and now and the future that lies ahead of them. And Sukuna plans to make it a bright future for them both. Another thing Yuuji taught him. Seeking happiness and peace instead of war. Creating a life that is beautiful because of its ordinary nature, a peaceful life filled with little joys like eating your favorite dinner, watching a movie or reading a book you enjoy, taking a walk in the park with the man you love by your side, or making love to him on your shared bed while you look deeply into each other's eyes.

Sukuna hums softly in the depths of his chest as Yuuji stirs lightly, but only to cuddle even closer to Sukuna.

"I know you are awake, darling."

Sukuna says, his low voice full of affection. Yuuji whines and hugs him tighter, mumbling sleepily against Sukuna's chest,

"Just a few more minutes, baby."

And, of course, Sukuna gives him those few more minutes. They still have all day to celebrate their anniversary. Five years of being married to each other. Sukuna booked a table at their favorite restaurant, and hidden in his nightstand is another gift. A poem. Just like people used to write them in Heian times to court their beloved. Sukuna had been an enjoyer of poetry back then but never wrote a poem on his own. The themes of those poems, love and beauty, had seemed too far away from him. Unreachable for a monster like him.

Now, Sukuna can't seem to stop the words flowing from his pen anytime he sits down to write. Poems about golden eyes and warm smiles. Poems about the person who became his home. Poems about true love.

Love.

It used to be something Sukuna thought he'd never be able to feel. Something he didn't even want to feel because it terrified him. But things have changed. Sukuna has changed. But he knows that he would have never been able to learn love by himself. He needed Yuuji to teach him. Sukuna needed the man who is the other half of his soul.

That's why Sukuna was never able to love before. Because no one else was Yuuji.

- The end -

OMGGGG THIS WAS IT 😭 Thank you so much for staying until the end!

Separation Anxiety was my biggest project. I started writing it in 2021. But at that time, I knew I couldn't do this idea justice because it was a very complex story to write, and I feared I wasn't skilled enough to write about the gradually changing emotions in a convincing way. So I kept it in the drafts and occasionally added something to the story. And then, as I grew as a writer, I finally decided it was time to start editing and posting this fic.

I had wanted to finish it for months but never got into the right headspace to put the finishing touches to the final chapter. And then Gege dropped those amazing epilogues and that beautiful art of Sukuna and Yuuji dancing in the snow, and it gave me the motivation to finally finish this story!

I have been crying for days over the new content Gege gave us 😭😭 I wrote the first draft of the final chapter after going to a Christmas Garden three years ago, and now everything has come full circle after Gege finished JJK with an epilogue about snow and that picture of Sukuna and Yuuji dancing in the snow. It just feels so right. The ending for Separation Anxiety was always planned to happen during Christmas time. And now I decided to also add the dancing scene after Gege blessed us with that picture 💗

I hope you enjoyed the ending. Separation Anxiety is a work of love, and I hope you can feel this love when you read it. No other characters have ever touched me as much as Yuuji and Sukuna, and I am so happy that I could explore them and their relationship in this story.

Thank you again for sticking with this story until the end and for all the sweet comments and patience. I am so sorry that I wasn't able to respond to all of your comments, but I read all of them, and I cried so many happy tears about them. I will always be grateful for all your love and support!

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU WHO WENT ON THIS JOURNEY WITH SUKUNA, YUUJI AND ME 😭😭💗

[kittttycakes]

Ooooh kiss on a scar for any pairing involving Hob because I know how you like your Hob with scars!

I HAVE OWED YOU THIS SINCE JUNE OF LAST YEAR  Please enjoy some retired Dream! (Very mildly NSFW at the end, more implied than anything else.)

It was only a matter of time before Hob realized. Morpheus was many things, but he was not subtle in his affections once he let them loose, and Hob had begun to fill in the rough shape of a pattern long before he fully knew quite how much of a thing it had become for him.

Morpheus rolled over in bed, his long limbs splayed half over Hob, taking up far more than his allotted share of the mattress. Hob never complained, although he would occasionally threaten to shove him out of bed; it was an entirely toothless threat, and they both knew it. He was facing Hob, now, affording Hob the perfect view of his face as he woke up in stages: the flutter of his eyelashes, the slight frown and scrunch of his nose that he would resolutely deny if confronted, the slow blink as he opened his eyes. 

“Beloved,” he said, his voice still as low and resonant as it had ever been, unchanged by circumstance. What a pleasure, what a privilege, to have his voice be the first sound he heard in the morning. It took Hob a moment to place the tone of it, the exact same that he had used successfully at least once per week for the past month.

“Absolutely not,” Hob replied, voice still sleep-rough, even as he tightened the grip of his arm around Morpheus, pulling him closer. “I am not popping out to buy you a sausage roll at—” 

Here, he paused, fumbling for his phone on the bedside table with his other hand and squinting at the lit screen. “Five in the bloody morning, why are you even awake?” 

Only half of this interrupted statement was a lie. It actually was just past five in the morning; Hob’s alarm would not sound for another twenty-eight minutes, and a better question was, perhaps, why he himself was awake. 

Rather than replying to anything Hob had said in any human capacity, Morpheus hummed, low in his throat, and pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, directly over the pale, slightly raised scar that resided there. Hob hardly thought of it at all; it had been a part of his face for hundreds of years, and he barely saw it when looking at a mirror, but then, in bed with Morpheus, he realized just how often Morpheus had pressed a similar kiss to that exact spot, and began to wonder.

Twenty minutes later, hastily dressed and on the hunt for sausage rolls, Hob had forgotten all about it. 

-

Morpheus had a minor fascination with Hob’s hands, which Hob was more than happy to indulge him in. If that meant allowing him to map each ridge of them idly as they sat on the sofa, only half watching a documentary that Morpheus had chosen, he would allow it. More than allow it; he would encourage it, offering him his hand whenever he looked like he needed something to do with his own, watching the way the tension seemed to slip for him as he traced the familiar lines of Hob’s palm with his fingertips, his touch light, exploratory even after all this time. It was relaxing, in a way, the pressure never quite enough to be a massage, but soothing, nonetheless. 

He barely realized how intently Morpheus was studying his palm, finally having grown interested in the admittedly complex lives of the tropical fish displayed on the television screen, before his attention was drawn to the base of his thumb by the repetitive motion of Morpheus tracing the same line, over and over, against his skin.

“Taking up palmistry now?” Hob glanced towards Morpheus, smiling; he had no doubt that Morpheus would have Opinions on palmistry and its accuracy or lack thereof, and he looked forward to hearing them. 

“How did you get this?” Morpheus asked, a seeming non-sequitur until Hob realized that he was tracing the scar there. This mark he did remember: he had been awfully young, learning how to properly gut a fish, when his knife had slipped and buried itself in the skin of his palm, bright and sharp and quick as anything. 

Hob answered him, ending with a slight smile. “Nothing terribly interesting, I’m afraid.” 

Morpheus hummed again, a sound Hob had grown increasingly familiar with over time. This was his inquisitive hum, an indication that, perhaps, he had more to say on the subject, but would let it lie for the moment. Hob was nearly about to ask him what he was thinking when he raised Hob’s hand and pressed a kiss to the scar there, resuming his earlier posture afterwards as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary at all. He hadn’t, not really; the best part of living with Morpheus was just how many times a day he was allowed to kiss him, and to be kissed in return. 

Hob settled back into the worn cushions of the sofa, and thought again: Morpheus had not kissed the palm of his hand. He had kissed the scar.

-

Hob knew how lucky he was. His body could not be killed or destroyed—the latter an assumption that he was not terribly interested in testing out. This did not mean it was entirely unmarred by the ages; some marks had lingered longer than others, and any he had carried before 1389 never left at all. He rarely thought of it, but Morpheus seemed to have a renewed determination to catalogue each and every mark on him. This goal was not exactly new, but once Hob had noticed, it became impossible to ignore. 

He was running rather late, and needed to shower before he could turn up anywhere respectable people might be misfortunate enough to see him. Hob was often thankful for the size of the shower in the flat, but he was especially thankful that morning as he slipped in behind Morpheus, who was standing directly under the shower head in the near catatonic state that Hob now recognized as something that was not a cause for alarm, but merely the time Morpheus required to fully awaken and become human on some days. There were many ways this could happen, the shower being one of them, but they all shared two qualities in common: they allowed Morpheus a period of near silence in which he was not expected to speak unless he chose to, and they allowed him to stay still in whatever position he may have been in. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be a minute,” Hob said, careful to keep his voice low and soft. He gently nudged Morpheus to one side, enough to share some of the spray. Morpheus did not appear to either notice or care. 

Hob was nearly finished with his important but perfunctory shower when Morpheus seemed at last to come alive. 

“Hob,” he said, just the one word, in yet another tone that Hob recognized, and reached for him, pulling him in to kiss him softly. He hadn’t yet, that morning, Hob realized. Maybe he had missed it. 

Kissing him a second time was Hob’s mistake, one that ended with him irrevocably running late, any time he had gained through the speed of his shower quickly lost. Morpheus had not stopped kissing him; had, in fact, pressed him rather insistently against the tiled wall of the shower and knelt in front of him in a way that Hob knew his knees would not thank him for later, and then promptly proceeded to put his mouth everywhere but where Hob wanted it most. 

He was rather thoroughly investigating a spot on Hob’s hip with lips and teeth and tongue when Hob realized what was underneath his mouth, and reached down, tangling his fingers gently in Morpheus’s hair, pulling in the way he liked, to tilt his head up towards him. 

“So,” Hob said, fighting to keep his tone light in the face of Morpheus on his knees in front of him. “Should we talk about the thing with the scars, or—”

“I do not have a thing,” Morpheus replied, derisive without any real bite. 

“You most certainly do have a thing. Come on, you can tell me. Is it just that it’s a bit of rough or—”

Morpheus looked up at him, long suffering. “It most certainly is not. It is—you are—you have lived through a great many things. Survived them. Outlived them. There is something somewhat—attractive—about this.” 

The look he was giving Hob was enough to make a lesser man give in, and Hob was only human, after all. “I knew it,” he said, breathless, as Morpheus descended on him again, knowing as he did that he had known no such thing. They were so different, and always had been, but nowhere was it more obvious than in their bodies, the smooth unmarked stretch of Morpheus’s now-human skin. He wondered what would mark it first, what minor accident would lay its claim on him; he did not want him to be hurt, but he did want to see how he would change, in time. They had plenty of it.

Send me a kiss prompt!

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[gojooooo]

sukuna begging yuuji to take him back because he wants to feel his emotions again instead of his own emptiness and nothing but the closeness they once had is enough for him. and when yuuji does, because he feels incomplete as well without sukuna, he spawns into the domain again and walks around the familiar place, hesitantly calling out sukuna’s name to confirm he’s really there. “sukuna…?”

“…kozō” he hears in return, fondness in the tone, and when he looks up at where he remembers the throne to be he sees a face so similar to his staring down at him with a smile, a hand immediately reaching out to slick the pink hair back. after everything they went through there’s no reason to keep dancing around it – they belong to each other.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.