#the nightgown isn't half as bad as people make it out to be

[the-froschamethyst4]

Husband Of The Year

𖤐Pairing: Retired! Soap x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, fluff, language, Scottish slang, teasing, P in V, fingering, feminism, breadwinner Y/n, male wife Soap, kissing/making out, groping, nipple play, male masturbation,

𖤐Summary: Soap had retired from the Military a few years ago, and when he got married to his wife he started to become the best husband of their lives.

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4:00PM

Y/n was coming home and her husband Soap had just made dinner for the both of them. He poured out some red wine for Y/n and poured some whiskey in a glass for him. He saw headlights pull into his driveway knowing it was his wife.

He goes to the front door, opening it and then seeing Y/n get out of her car and sees her husband.

"John."

"Hi, mo luaidh (my darling)." Soap says, placing his hand on her waist. "Come on," he says guiding her into the house.

Once the door was opened and Soap moves down and removes Y/n's heels from her feet. His hands were gentle on her ankles and his fingers gently caressed her calves up to her thighs.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"Nothing...am I not allowed to cook for my wife?"

"You are allowed to," she smiles at him.

"I always cook for you, mo luaidh (my darling)." He kisses her knee and then stood back up.

"What did you fix?"

"Your favorite," he says, guiding her to the dinning room and showing her the meal he made for her. "Red wine too," he says.

"Thank you, John, I'm gonna change and come back down," she says. Soap nods and sits at the end of the table.

Y/n soon came downstairs in a light purple silk nightgown that stopped at her mid thigh, Soap's eyes widened as Y/n's hair was a bit messy as well, doing it on purpose teasing Soap.

He smirks leaning back in his chair, he stood up pulling her chair out for her to sit, she does and he pushed her closer to the table.

"You look gorgeous, mo luaidh (my darling)." He leans down and kissed her temple.

"Thank you," she smiles at him as Soap went to his chair.

"How was work?" He started to make small talk with his wife.

"A mess," she says.

"How so?"

"We have an employee that calls in almost everyday, her excuse is pulling the 'I'm sick' card when she isn't sick, it's because she doesn't want to work and it's very obvious, she has come to me many times complaining about work, and then saying she'll call in because 'she's stressed out'...stressed out about what? Watching videos on your phone? She doesn't work!" Y/n was an exclusive director for the company she works at.

If she could she would fire this woman, but it's not her call. It was obvious that the woman gets under Y/n's skin a lot. Even the General Manager has an issue with this woman and they've both talked to her and the CEO about her.

Soap usually hears a lot about this woman and how she is basically a problem for the company. All that woman has to do is order products make sure they come in on time and calls people to let them know their products come in, but she never does it half of the time and sales people have to do her job for her, which pisses them off.

"I bet, what number is this?"

"23 and counting," Y/n says annoyed by this woman. Y/n eats her dinner as Soap just listens her her rant and enjoy her company.

"You're lucky you don't have to deal with someone like her," Y/n says.

"Well, I dealt with people like that in the Military."

"Really, how come you never told me?"

"Just never brought it up," he chuckles. "But I can tell you about the one who was released early from duty."

"Tell me!" She says, leaning on her hand to listen to her husband talk.

Soap tells her about a new recruit coming to the Military and two days in was released from duty because of bad conduct making him go to court because of his stunt.

"Yeah, you never told me that," she giggles.

"Again, we've never talked about it," he says. "Not only that it was a while ago, when I went to Russia for a week, I kind of forgot about it till now," he says as he moves his fork to his mouth.

"I see."

"Anything else going on?" He asked her.

"We...fired a girl," Y/n says.

"Fired someone?! What happened?"

"Remember that one girl I talked about when I caught her in the bathroom with a male employee?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well, she was caught in the male bathroom...masturbating and we called a meeting with her, with all managers and directors and...the CEO decided to fire her."

"H-How the hell did she get into the males bathroom without getting caught going in?"

"I'm not sure, the person who caught her doing it was the director of Marketing, she left the door unlocked and was caught."

"Holy shit-did you bring up the time you caught her?"

"I did in the meeting after we fired her, we discussed the times we caught her and how we hid it till we called a meeting with her," Y/n says.

"Your company is a shit show."

"Oh I know, we try our best to control it, and it seems like a shit show when the CEO leaves for anything, and his assistant tries to control everything when he's gone," she pokes at her food.

"Anyways enough work talk. You done, mo luaidh (my darling)?"

"Yes," she says as Soap stood up taking his and hers plate to the sink. She stood up and walked to her husband. Her arms go around his waist.

"Mo luaidh?"

"I'll be upstairs," she says, walking away and Soap watches her walk away.

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Soap turns off the lights downstairs and walk upstairs through the hallway and at the end of the hall was his shared bedroom with the light on. He pushes the door open seeing his wife still in her silk nightgown, she was on her stomach reading one of her books, she looks over her shoulder and smiles at her husband before putting a bookmark in her book.

She rolls over and look at her husband placing her book on her nightstand.

"Come here," she says with her arms open and Soap crawls on top of her. She kissed the top of his head and he kisses her neck. "John?"

He starts to move down kissing her neck, chest, between her breasts, and then her stomach. His hands groped at her breasts, his hands move under her nightgown and his fingers played with her hard nipple.

She lets out a soft moan as he was gentle with her. Ever since Soap's retirement, he treats Y/n like she is the last thing on Earth, their sex was amazing because of Soap and how he would make her feel, and how he started to figure out what she liked during sex.

They tried new things they've never tried before, or they would do things they both knew they got off.

Soap then moves down pulling at her panties, pulling them down and off her ankles, he tosses them somewhere in the bedroom. He then starts licking his lips and then starts licking between her wet folds.

He kisses between her folds. He spits on her clit and rubs a few minutes earning moans from Y/n, her hand holds his wrist as he then shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her.

Her back arches with the pleasure overwhelming her. Soap smirks at her and then starts licking and sucking on her clit. His tongue flicked against her bud a few times, moans filled the room, he used his free hand and pulled his dick out.

He pumps himself a few times. He loves her moans, her back arching because of the pleasure. She used her hand to help him. He moans letting her do all the work.

He kept licking her and kissing her slit. Her hands pumping him quickly and teasingly slowly down. She'll pick up the pace just to hear him moan and the vibrations from his mouth against her clit made her feel good.

He then moves his mouth and fingers and she whines when he moves away. Her hand wasn't touching him anymore. He pulls his boxers off and then starts aligning himself up at her entrance.

She smiles placing her hands on his neck bring him close to her, lips touching as he first starts out slow and easy, them both rocking back and forth against each other.

Their make out session was soft and easy, but back rough with her biting at his bottom lip as he pulls away and groans when feeling her teeth pull at his lip.

His thrusts were rough and sloppy. The same with his kisses, they were sloppy and messy. Y/n's moans filled the room and skin slapping as well.

Soap kissed her neck, jawline and the back to her lips. Y/n's nails then dug into his muscular back. He groans when feeling the sudden pain digging into his back, but he ignored it, he was on a mission to make his wife feel good.

He looks down at her, her face all red and his ears were filled with moans. Y/n then dragged her fingers from his back to his shoulders and then down to his buff chest.

Y/n felt herself close to coming. She let's out another moan and then tightened around Soap's cock, he moans feeling her tighten around him.

"Come on, mo luaidh (my darling), cum for me," he groans as she did what he asked, she ended coming on his dick, he pulls out and watches as cum leak from her clit slowly.

He bends down and starts licking her clean. Her hands held the end of her silk nightgown lifting it up as Soap was cleaning her up.

The retired Sargent, sits up on his knees smiling down at his wife and picked her up taking her to the bathroom.

He places her on the sink and starts a bath. Making sure it was hot and then placed some bubbles in the bath, Y/n removes her silk nightgown placing it on the floor and Soap picks her up and placing her gently in the bath.

"I'll be right back," he says, kissing her lips and heading out of the bathroom, she could see him snatch a clean pair of boxers and hurried to put them on.

She messes with the bubbles in the tub and cupped them in her hands and placed it back on the bubbles. Soap comes back with two glasses and the red wine he poured before.

He gives her one and then held the other, he leans on the side of the tub to watch his wife, his head resting on his arm, she talks to him and he listens.

"Do you want wash you?" He asked.

"Yes," she says as he grabs a loofa and puts her body wash on it. He starts to gently rub it on her arms, shoulders, she gently stood up. He then washed her stomach, back, between her legs, thighs and butt.

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30 Minutes Later

Y/n was on the bed with Soap holding her against his chest as she reads her book and Soap was watching TV on a low volume so Y/n could read her book.

She flips the pages with one hand and then other played with his arm hair as his left hand rested on her thigh and the other resting against her stomach and that hands rested close to her butt and he gently tapped her side to a random beat.

She closes her book, placing it on her nightstand and then looking at the TV to see what Soap was watching. Soap has been on a kick on watching old documentary's about old military planes, and wars that had happened in the past.

"What's this one about?" Y/n asked.

"Old planes and Vets stories about war," he says.

"Oh," was all she said as she cuddled up to Soap closing her eyes and falling asleep.

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Next Morning (6:00AM)

Y/n had woken up to her alarm, groaning as she turns it off, she rolls over to face Soap, he was big spooning her, his eyes closed and he looks peacefully sleeping.

Y/n kissed Soap's lips and got out of his buff arms, she gets up like normal, brushing her hair, and starting her shower getting in and washing her body and hair.

As the water run, Soap wakes up and hears the water, he rolls over seeing the bathroom light on and the door cracked trying not to shine the light on him as he slept.

He stretched up and got out of bed. Heading downstairs to then make tea for Y/n and himself some as well, Soap doesn't drink tea as much as Y/n, she only drinks it to be calm before she works.

Y/n walks downstairs seeing her husband making the hot tea, she was in a towel around her body and another holding up her hair. Soap smiles seeing her.

"How was your shower?" He asked.

"Fine," she yawns as she was handed her mug taking a small sip. Soap walks behind her placing his hand on her hip kissing her temple as she sipped from her mug again.

"Go get dressed and I'll make you some breakfast," he says as she walks upstairs getting dressed and taking her damp hair out of the towel.

Soap had made her some waffles and she ate before going back upstairs to do her hair, make up and grabbing her purse and heels.

"Okay, I'll see you later, John."

"I'll see you, later mo luaidh (my darling)." He kissed her lips and he watched her leave for her work.

[tired-biscuit]

general!kiba’s surprise when you initiate sex for the first time. watching him train that day had you thinking all sorts of thoughts about him, his speed, the way he moved so effortlessly. so gracefully. the way he manhandled his troops when they were sparring. has him growing desperately hard when you sit on his lap and whine about how bad you want him when you go to your room for the night. let’s you fuck him. which is an entirely new experience. let’s you set the pace as you bounce up and down on his- *gets yanked off stage by comically large cane*

- 🐀

BRING LITTLE MOUSEY ANON ONTO THE STAGE, BRING THEM BACK RIGHT NOW!!

18+ fem!reader / royalty AU

series masterlist

he tries so hard to let you have control.

but goddammit, it's hard. it's really fucking hard to just watch you ride his cock and hold you by the hips so that you can try and take him better, deeper, and simply do... nothing.

he watches your face as you straddle his lap and hold the tightest grip he's ever felt from you on his shoulders. he's reclining in the armchair that's positioned in one corner of your shared bedroom; the one that's big enough for you to sink your knees in now that you're riding him, and that he sometimes just plops on to people watch whilst they tend to their chores in the courtyard below.

feeling how soft the cushioning is underneath him as you slowly bounce up and down, kiba thinks it's borderline bizarre. he still isn't quite used to owning a house this big and with so many riches stored inside it, even less to having a literal princess, blue blood coursing her veins and everything, sitting on his dick.

but he certainly won't complain about it.

no, the pay is too good to grumble about, even if he has to risk his life to acquire it from time to time. the expensive furniture, limitless supply of food and drink and comfort are all worth it, too. so he watches in silence. continues to sit in his brand new armchair like he's a king lounging on his throne, despite the fact that that's what your father's job is supposed to be.

and as for the king's daughter, well... the general just finds you adorable. the pace he's let you decide on is slow; careful. he wants to go faster, to take you in the usual fashion he prefers, which is in a much rougher way than this. wishes to ravage you until there'd be nothing left of you and he'd simply pass out from exhaustion right after and wake up in the morning feeling like his soul isn't stuck inside his body quite right. but alas, he can see that you're struggling, so he remains dormant.

and it's evident, your struggle. you've only taken a little more than half of his length and sweat already covers your brow in a layer so thick that it makes your skin gleam. one sleeve of your nightgown hangs loosely off of your shoulder, revealing your collarbone, which he's since littered with small bruises and bite marks, as well as the curve of your breast.

there are plenty of them, the love bites, because you've been at it for a long while. he's never been a patient man, but the moon that now sits high in the starry sky and drapes you both in its gentle light, can serve as his witness that he's still letting you do your thing.

though, his patience has pretty much run out by now.

because god, you're still so tight even after all this time; almost unbearably so. he knows it's because of the fact you're overthinking this entire thing, but the way your pussy squeezes him whenever he pushes into you by another inch makes him want to bare his teeth to the world and growl like an animal. to lift his hips and ram himself into you until you'd be so full of him that your little hole wouldn't even be able to leak a single droplet of his cum.

but he can't cum yet. silvery strings of your arousal and the saliva he's spat between you to make the job easier for you, now bridge the narrow gap between your bodies the moment your clit finally kisses the tuft of dark hair below his waist. he looks down at the contact and sure enough; there's a prominent ring of milky slick around the base of his cock when your hips stutter and you try to go back.

it's a small victory you've just achieved, albeit terribly short-lived for his taste, he thinks.

he supposes he understands the reason as to why; it's only been a short while since he's taken your virginity, after all. your most intimate parts are still sensitive, and the deep angle the position provides, as well as the way his thick cockhead now strokes some inner part of you that feels soft and awfully tender - too tender - proves to be something that greatly overwhelms you.

he holds you in it, however, the position. with his hands still on your hips, his grip suddenly turns tenacious and his knuckles flash stark white as he fights against you to keep you exactly where you are. it seems like he's done playing your game.

"hold still," he says, his voice slightly breathless but firmly gruff. it's the same assertive tone he uses when he's talking to his soldiers.

and it's also the same tone he spoke in whilst he'd been on the training grounds earlier today; shirtless, golden skin dewy from sweat, body moving effortlessly despite its great size. his jaw had been set, and you definitely noticed a rather intense look flare up in his dark eyes when he'd spotted you watching. even his presence alone had become more intimidating in mere seconds.

perhaps it had been because of the focus, or the pesky need to impress that tends to gnaw on him as of late. nevertheless, he looked just about ready to crush the skull of the unlucky rookie who'd had the balls to take him on either way.

and lucky him, it seems that he did actually manage to impress you by the end of the sparring session, because you're here now; doing this. you've offered yourself to him by taking charge right after you'd kissed him passionately by stepping onto your tippy-toes and pulling him in close. until he was groaning into your sweet mouth and grabbing greedy handfuls of your ass right over the nightgown.

you couldn't help yourself. something about the way he looked so graceful whilst fighting and teaching the younger men had lit some wicked urge inside you which you just couldn't ignore from how ceaselessly it kept clawing at the walls of your mind. the way he fights is like a dance, despite that he's made it clear to you that he won't and never will spin you around the ballroom of your father's castle.

he's just so-

you mewl, your body squirming as if trying to get away from him when he lifts his hips up to test out your newly-updated limits and abruptly breaks your train of thought. a pout forms as you say, "th-that hurts."

"it'll pass," he tries to console you coarsely. his throat feels like it's on fire, god you just feel so good. "just... ah, just give it a moment."

your whining fills the room in an instant at the way he brushes you off, and it grows louder by the second. his eyes want to roll into the back of his head from the sensation of being entirely inside you at long last. meanwhile, your own want to nearly pop out of your fucking sockets because of the overbearing fullness he makes you endure.

minutes pass; long minutes spent by panting and exchanging messy kisses. you listen to his request as you stay still and try to cockwarm him, as he calls it. he's deep in your belly, throbbing and growing even bigger, hotter. it makes your pulse skyrocket, especially when he readjusts on the armchair and eases his grip.

the tip of his nose bumps against your chin as he makes you tip your head back so that he can kiss your throat. his tongue is warm as he licks the sweat off your skin. the amount of salt that he tastes now only makes him feel guilty for straining your body to its limits like this.

"ride it," he urges you softly. unlike before, his voice is a mere coo now. "when you're ready."

"how?" you ask, swallowing hard. you sink your nails into his shoulders again as if readying yourself for the ache, but when you roll your hips to test it out, it's almost gone.

"however you want," he mumbles, smiling faintly at the little gasp you let out when you repeat the same movement for a second time. his face is nearly buried in your tits from how closely you cling onto him. he could die as a happy man like this, truly. "just fuck yourself on my cock until you cum... i am at your disposal."

heat sears your face because of his lewd language and the way he offers himself to you so freely. you doubt you'll ever get used to it, but it's nice to know that you've got the big bad war general wrapped around your finger. "...but i don't know how."

he chuckles at your sudden timidness. "i'll help you."

and just like that, his hands guide you to a slow, sensual rhythm again. up and down, up and down, up and down - you're taking him entirely this time. pride washes over you despite the loud squelching noises the wetness that you emit now causes, especially when he grunts out a quiet, "good girl... good lil' princess."

and when his thumb circles your clit, it's like heaven opens up just to swallow you whole.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

"Why haven't you been eating?" with vaxleth?

43. "Why haven't you been eating?" setting this pre-mfl!

turned my water into wine #48

Sovereign Korrin has been gone from Zephrah for a mere week and a half, and already Keyleth feels as though she is a tapestry fraying at the edges. It isn't as if she hasn't watched her father run this nation for the past twenty-odd years, as if she didn't know before assuming command of the castle what would be expected of her in his stead. Yet here she is, harried and stressed, constantly bouncing from this meeting to the next, hoping that along the way, she does not make the decision that spells disaster for her people.

So her days are long and tiresome, and her nights full with the reading of reports and the writing of missives. The castle staff can scarcely keep her in supply of candles as she works far past moonrise, sometimes straight through 'til morning. Some nights, she wishes Vax would not come to her, just so she wouldn't have to see the concern in his eyes when he wakes to leave only to find her already hunched over her desk, halfway through a ledger of accounts or a letter to a general.

But come to her he does, every night, as reliable as the tides. She lets him in, lets herself fold into his chest, just long enough to convince herself that perhaps things won't fall apart. He brushes her hair, takes his time plaiting it back as he hums under his breath, and then quietly reads from her personal library as she continues on with her work. Still, though, she can feel his eyes on her, and instead of the usual hunger in them, she knows they contain naught but unease.

After two weeks of this, when Keyleth opens the secret door in the stone to let him in, instead of pulling her into his arms as is his wont, he frowns at her, face stern. "Keyleth."

She startles at the reproach in his stone. "Yes?"

"Why haven't you been eating?"

Flabbergasted, she says, "What on earth are you talking about?"

With a sigh, Vax nudges his way inside. "We can start with the dinner sitting cold right over here." He gestures to the corner of her writing desk, which does indeed hold a plate of meats and vegetables that were delivered for her well over two hours ago and are surely inedible at this point.

Still, she waves off his concern. "I got caught up in what I was doing. Not to worry, I'm fine."

"Truly?" He takes her elbow and guides her over to her long, ornate mirror, an item she tends to avoid at all costs. "Have you seen yourself lately?"

She looks at herself, past the hair hanging limp and the nightgown stained with late-night tea, and tries to see what Vax is talking about. Perhaps her skin is a bit sallower than usual, yes, and certainly her dark circles have rarely been so pronounced. Vax's hand comes to rest on her cheek, and his thumb swipes a half-circle in the hollow of her cheek. "You're wasting away, Kiki." His other hand comes to rest on her hip, and to her surprise, she can feel it digging into the bone. "You are not fine."

Has she truly not been eating? She tries to remember, but her mind is filled with all manner of facts and figures, strategies and contingencies, that she has little room for such mundane matters as food. She can admit she has had little appetite these days, between the workload and the stress, but surely things have not gotten this bad?

As if on cue, her stomach growls a tiger's roar. Vax hooks his chin onto her shoulder and meets her eye in the mirror. "Nothing impresses me more than your unwavering dedication to your nation, Your Highness, but I will not see it eat you alive from the inside out."

She is just so very tired. "I...I don't..."

"Come here." He spins her around—she can offer little resistance, not that she would—and holds her face in both hands. "Open the door and tell Kynan to instruct the kitchen to send up another plate. I don't care that it's late—" He talks right over her attempted protest. "—this is what they are hired to do, and besides, I have it on good authority that your affliction has not gone unnoticed amongst the staff, and it is best to quell any rumors before they can blossom. We will sit by the fire until it arrives, and then you will eat it, and then we will go to bed, and at no point for the rest of this evening will you read or write or otherwise use that brilliant mind I adore so keenly." He tips his forehead against hers. "You need to rest, Keyleth, before I and the Ashari Nation both lose the thing we care about most."

And she wants to argue, so badly, as there are still yet letters to write and choices to makes, but his voice is thick like honey and his hands are warm like the fire and all she wants to do is melt into him, to disappear from this room of stone and emerge into a sunlit field, surrounded by nothing but grass and flowers and his hair. Her stomach calls out again, and she knows the fight is lost. "Alright."

He kisses both cheeks and then steps back, clearing her path to the door. As he goes to hide behind her dressing screen, she makes her way to the door, finally ready to ask for what she needs.

[ferrarhirhi]

Crosshair X Fem Reader

Chapter One - Intrigue

Waking up to a headache isn't the worst you've experienced but it’s still not the best.

Aching pain sears from your temples to the crown of your head, you assumed it was just that your bun was up too tight, until you remembered.

“fuck” you mutter as you realise you smoked way too much spice last night and have this so called group inspection in an hour and a half.

You wouldn't say you had formed a proper squad after training with the empire for a year and a half, people came and went very often.

It made sense, for some reason the empire wasn't in dire need for specialists like snipers, especially not trainee ones such as yourself.

Pushing yourself up twisting your hips and placing yourself at the edge of your bed you felt your head go woozy. Luckily it passed almost instantly and you relaxed knowing that a few painkillers would help ease the pain emanating from your temples.

Releasing the straps of your nightgown from your shoulders and letting it drop to the floor you stepped into the already steaming shower, hot water making your stiff muscles and bruised body melt.

That's what you get for overtime combat training with those droids, you thought to yourself.

Ever since the death of your parents, two years ago, spice and combat training were the only two things to numb the pain.

Stepping out of the shower and reaching for the towel you spot yourself in the mirror, “hm not bad’ feeling pride for the effects of keeping to a soldiers exercise routine. There were some lazy troopers out there and you were happy to show off that you weren't.

After tying your hair up into your usual ponytail and slipping into your empire blacks, you placed your armour over the top.

you were proud of they way it looked, empire black with a few gunmetal grey scratches and red details, you had taste.

After triple checking your sniper rifle knowing that it would probably be inspected by one of Rampart’s usual men you lugged it in its case onto your back and made your way to base.

It really wasn't far from your barracks and luckily you had your own transport only for troopers, you could imagine the strange looks from Coruscanti residents on public transport, soldiers were intimidating for a reason

Making your way into the large testing centre you spotted Rampart standing on the balcony, thirty meters above the grey tiled floor. The air just as cold as his patronising glare, it didn't hurt to be welcoming, you thought to yourself.

Before you could continue your thoughts Rampart spoke. “elite troopers” his voice echoed around the large room occupying only yourself, two other troopers who you hadn't met before, Rampart and his death trooper bodyguard.

“You have been called here today for your bi annual inspection and rating of your current skill level, if you do well, you may have the chance of promotion”

Promotion, your skin tingled, the thought of being out in the field and no longer a trainee had been on your mind for at least the last three months

“We will be joined later by some of your seniors who specialise in your areas and have far more experience than you” there goes that condescending tone again “They will be your mentors for the next three weeks”

Time had passed and the two other troopers had completed their tests and met their mentors

“Eyesight and reaction test will commence in 3, 2, 1” said the monotone voice coming from the droid below. Lazer focused, you were full of adrenaline and ready for this test.

Lying from a high vantage point, you aimed your Firepuncher down to the area, shooting at targets popping up occasionally, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted the automatic doors behind Rampart open and a figure appear, you assumed it was your mentor.

Ignoring distraction was normally very easy for you, except for now. This mentor looked very different from the others. He looked important. Rather than wearing the white model, his sleek grey amour was enticing and the green visor in his helmet magnetic to the eye. Who was he behind that helmet, you felt yourself being drawn to him.

Too distracted to realise you'd missed the signal for the reaction part of your test, you felt a zap in your shoulder, one of the droids below had shot a blank at you, right in front of your new, very distracting mentor, the test reset.

Rampart hadn't noticed luckily, he was looking at your mentor as they took off their helmet.

It was a clone, but he looked different than the usual, confusion was probably visible across your face as he looked your way and gave you a blank nod, nodding back you could see he had grey short hair, a defined jawline and high cheekbones.

Just before you could start the test again, and prove yourself to your new mentor, Rampart interrupted “We've seen enough thank you” Why did he always have to speak in that tone, had you just bottled your chance, the clone hadn't even watched you.

“Please come to the balcony”

Walking through the imposing grey sliding doorway you were once again met with Rampart and who you guessed was your new mentor.

A tingle shot up your spine, like a sign from the force, which had sadly now been banned from being spoken about all across the empire. This man was tall, very tall. You felt your neck crane slightly upwards to meet his face, which you now realised was very intriguing. He was attractive in the sense that is aura was dark and you felt even more drawn to him. His eyes a brown like the caf you drank this morning and the left one surrounded by the design of a crosshair, the same one you saw through your viewfinder every day

“Trooper this is CT-9904, he is a sniper, like yourself. He will be advising you on what you can improve on over the next three weeks, if all goes well, you may have the chance of promotion” Rampart said in an unbothered tone, he had clearly been repeating the same statement throughout the day, boredom emanating from him.

Whilst taking in what Rampart was saying, you could feel the gaze of CT-9904 on you, looking at him directly now, you could see he had a slight smirk, and his eyes trailed up and down your body. He’s checking me out you thought. “I am looking forward to working with you”

You had to stay calm, or he would notice your breath hitch up, this man’s voice was as sensual as the look he was giving you. It was adenoidal yet smooth, the first thing you could envision it to be like, was a snake, tentatively stalking it’s way towards its prey. You the prey, he the snake.

Snap out of it, realising you had taken a suspiciously long time to mutter out the words “Yes sir, me too”

Had that just come across like you were flirting with him, panic flushed your face, you were always so composed, what was happening.

He could tell you were flustered, slightly chuckling to himself then saying “773 Firepuncher?” Whilst looking at the rifle in your hand.

“772, Sir”

“Ah, let me see”

You handed him the rifle, this man clearly didn’t know the word please, but maybe that wasn’t a surprise, or to be expected from your senior. He couldn’t be to much older than yourself, even if his hair was grey, his face was supple, smooth excluding the slight stubble, he had minimal wrinkles. Such an attractive face you thought to yourself, you could feel your knees slightly weakening, so shifted your stance.

His slender fingers gently glided across your rifle, he was respecting your weapon. An eyebrow raised “not bad, but could be better” he leaned over you pointing to a few scuff marks on the underside of your rifle “These shouldn’t be there”

“If I may sir, these were from using it just now”

“Yet you were expecting me today, you could have cleaned her up whilst making your way up here”

He had a point.

“She deserves special attention, at all times” he said whilst towering over you looking deep into your eyes, it felt like he was talking about you and not your rifle.

“I understand sir” Saying whilst looking down.

Rampart had walked away by now, talking to his bodyguard, that gave the clone a chance to tap you on the bottom of your chin and say “Look at me and say that”

“I understand sir” It was highly inappropriate but your heart was racing and you were finding it exceptionally invigorating.

No man had ever spoken to you like this, they were always so intimidated by your stature and confidence yet this clone had reduced you to a thoughtless mess.

“Look at mine” he handed you back your rifle and as you swung yours onto your back, he reached for his and you got a good look at his build. He was was slim yet muscular, his shoulders wide and waist slender

Reaching out for his rifle you took a look, it was immaculate but unlike your red detailing, he had none, time to have a little fun you thought.

“Very good sir, pristine. But if I may”

“Go on”

“Well I just feel it’s quite boring”

His brows furrowed slightly and his eyes darkened, had you just crossed a line.

“I feel mine has more character”

“Character” he said through a chuckle “You want to see character sweetheart, I’ll show you character“

Sweetheart, you mused to yourself this man really was flirting with you, this could be a fun few weeks.

He reached for a pocket on his waistband and pulled out a collection of disks which he flung to different places across the hall below.

After taking the rifle from your hands he leaned his slender frame up against the balcony, as he was looking away you let your eyes trail his body focusing on his waist thinking what your hands would feel like gliding across his lower frame, pressing him down in combat training, that would be fun.

Quickly snapping out of your thoughts you watched as he shot at a disk which reflected the plasma bolt onto the next disk and so on until it smashed right into the head of one of the droids. Electricity coursed through your veins as he turned to look over to you.

“Impressive” you said

“Indeed, you will come back here tomorrow afternoon and I will inspect your visual accuracy”

“Okay Sir, thank you for the show” you smirked at him and made your way outside the doors.

Read the rest Here

[serpenera]

Winter 1995 - Severus Snape hears a scream in the middle of the night so he jumps out of bed and runs across the castle in his nightgown ‘cause who cares about decorum when someone might be dying

With a special dedication to @frillions 

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

A husband that fits you

Synopsis: Vanya arrives at Kattegat and meets her husband to be. She learns what Silas meant when he said he found her "a husband that fits her."

Warning: Angst, Ivar (that's a warning on itself), forced marriage

Tagged: 

@youbloodymadgenius

I don't own the gifs. Also thank you for your support I really appreciate it. 

One thing Vanya learned during the journey to Kattegat was that she loves the sea. The splashing of the waves, the partial silence. It was so different from what she was used to, and she liked it. Another thing is that Bjorn isn't as scary as she thought. He seems fine for a "filthy and bloodthirsty savage" - like everybody calls them.

Also, Scandinavia is cold. She already put on a cloak to keep her warm, but she is still shaking. If it is nerves or the cold, she has no idea. Hopefully, it's from the cold. Freezing to death seems like an excellent alternative to marrying Ivar. Bjorn told her a few things; he said that his younger half brother has a temper. Otherwise, he seemed reluctant to share anything about him. He also watched her like a hawk whenever she stood too near to the edge of the ship. As if she would fall in, or jump.

The days passed too fast for her liking. Today they would arrive in Kattegat. She can already see the land and its people getting ready to greet them. The nearer they got, the more she shook in her seat. It scared her to think about her husband. He was young and temperamental. Silas's words kept haunting her: "I chose a man I knew would fit you perfectly." Who knows what kind of monster Ivar is.

"We are nearly there." Bjorn's voice drew her from her thoughts. Vanya looked at the man before her and nodded. She knew. Of course, Vanya knew. She took a deep breath and stood up, looking at the people awaiting her arrival. One of them is her husband. A lot of them are very handsome and tall. That is a good sign. What would be the odds that Ivars any different?

The ship hit the shore, and Bjorn helped Vanya get off when a woman with three men walked forward. She held her head high and was stunning. And the young men by her side were handsome too. "Welcome to Kattegat, Princess Vanya. We are happy to have you here."

Vanya bowed before the royal family and smiled a timid smile. "It is a pleasure to be here, Queen Aslaug."

The pretty Queen smiled back at her and mentioned to the men by her side. "My sons, Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd." All three smiled at her, but she didn't have the energy to smile back. Where was Ivar? "And, of course, Ivar." She said, mentioning to somebody by Ubbe's side. Vanya looked towards the direction Aslaug pointed and froze. Her husband to be was dragging himself over the ground. Silas chose her a cripple as a husband.

She ignored her thoughts and bowed before him, as well. "Nice to meet you. My name is Vanya." She smiled the most dashing smile she could. Mother always said smiling is very important when meeting someone. It makes a good impression.

Ivar only scoffed and raised an eyebrow at her. "I know who you are." He said, rolling his eyes, making her pause.

"Ivar." Warned Aslaug before leading Vanya to the Great hall. Mother said to walk beside her husband, but that was very hard when he dragged himself behind them, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Instead, she walked with the Queen, who kept asking her questions.  "How do you like Kattegat so far? How was the journey?" She answered them only not to be rude.

But, all she could think about was that it finally made sense what Silas meant. "A husband that would fit her." A man who dragged himself through the dirt perfectly fits a princess who belongs to the animals. The great hall was huge and filled with food and servants who filled their cups the moment they sat down. Aslaug sat a the head of the table with Ivar on her left. Next to him sat Vanya with Hvitserk on her other side. In front of her sat Ubbe with Sigurd on his left and Bjorn on Aslaugs right. They all talked between them while Vanya listened to their strange language. She had no idea what was being said, and it frustrated her. She knew nothing of the people she will live with from now on. She was sent in blind and deaf.

"So, Princess. How do you like Ivar?" Sigurd suddenly asked, making everybody stop. Vanya looked at the ginger Viking and blink. She did expect that question. Ivar, on the hand, just glared at him.

"I do not know him that well to judge just yet." She tried hoping he would drop the topic.

But obviously, the prince had no intention to help her. "What of his looks?" He was digging for an answer, and she knew it.

"Sigurd," Aslaug warned, fixing her son with a look that said the man ignored.

"He should know what she thinks of him if he is to marry her. You said so yourself, mother. So go on, Princess. What do you think of my brother?"

Vanya fidgeted, praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She didn't want to offend anybody, especially Ivar. "He is very handsome." She said, smiling softly before sipping on her drink. The answer seemed to satisfy Ivar if his smug look was anything to go by.

"And what of his legs?" Vanya choked on her drink the moment the words left Sigurds lips. Ivar tightened his grip on the knife and growled lowly. Ubbe tried to calm the two brothers down, but it was to no vail. "You must have an opinion on them if you choose him."

Vanya swallowed and looked at the daring savage. "My brother choose my husband. I didn't even know his name till Bjorn told me. But I do not care." This made Ivar pause in his anger.

Sigurd raised an eyebrow at her and frowned. "Really? Don't you care that your husband is a cripple? That you will be known as the wife of Ivar the Boneless?"

Vanya shook her head and looked at the fuming man from the corner of her eye. "No. His looks or disability are not necessary. It's what's on the inside that counts. I care more for somebody's heart, then somebody's appearance."

"Well, then I am sorry to tell you that Ivar has no heart."  Sigurd laughed, making Ivar launch himself over the table at him only for Hvitserk and Ubbe to hold him back as Aslaug scolded Sigurd in their native language. Vanya frowned at that. The brothers managed to calm down Ivar, but he still looked like he was planning his brother's murder. Vanya could not blame him. Sigurd angered her too.

Maybe that's why she wanted him to get a taste of his own medicine. "My people say none of you have hearts. So I guess I shall judge for myself if it is true or not. I also don't think you should be so mean."

The Queen and the five princes looked at her in surprise. Sigurd licked his lips and smile at her. "And why is that?"

"I don't think you have a right to judge him if your eye looks like that of a snake. It is not fair." She answered, cursing herself the moment it left her lips. She must have gone mad during the journey. She will die before her wedding, for sure. Her thoughts of death were interrupted by Ivar chuckling with a smug look on his face. Ubbe and Sigurd also looked amused, which she did not expect.

"She fits you, Ivar. She also got a sharp tongue." Ubbe teased, making her blush. At least she would not die. Yet.

The feast continued as Aslaug talked to her about the wedding and the ceremonies involved. The sacrifice scared her, especially when Ivar mentioned that he wanted a human sacrifice instead of a goat. But luckily, Ubbe talked him out of it. "The Princess is already pale now if she sees a human sacrifice she might faint before the wedding, Ivar." So Ivar agreed to kill a goat instead, but only if the goat is perfect. Aslaug reassured him she would see to it to which Sigurd scoffed but didn't say anything else.

After the feast was over, Vanya was happy to retreat to her room and calm herself down. The Queen told her that the place was only temporary before the wedding, as she would move in with Ivar afterward. That isn't precisely what Vanya wanted to hear before she went to bed. The reality of the fact that she isn't a guest came crashing down at her.

The ginger princess ignored the feeling of being trapped in a foreign place with strangers. A blonde thrall helped her undress and change into a nightgown. The girl also unbraided her hair and took off her necklace. She didn't understand English, which Vanya regretted. She hoped to find out more about Ivar from her. But all she knows is that the girl's name is Margrethe.

From what she saw at the feast, Sigurd and Ivar hate each other, Ivar is impulsive and has a bad temper. The only person she knew that has a bad temper is Silas. And he usually just plans executions when he is angered. Or humiliates you. She hopes Ivar is different. Otherwise, she is marrying her brother in somebody else's body, which is very worrisome and messed up.

It makes sense why Bjorn only said that Ivar's complicated. The word complicated not only fits him but also hides who Ivar is. Or maybe he is different. She hopes he is different for her sanity and survival. It would be too much of a cruel joke to have escaped the monsters of her family only to marry another monster.

Margrethe left after her job was done, leaving Vanya to think. So she sat down on her bed and looked at the ceiling. That is until somebody knocked on her door.

[lesdsandoval97]

Hey! So I decided to man up and finally write my first fan fiction. I always love to read fan fictions on Tumblr, Deviant art, & Wattpad. I read a lot of the Haikyuuxreader fan fics. People are so creative & I became inspired.

Please do not judge, I wrote this today at 4 in the morning & it may not be perfect. It is a bit long and cheesy.

By the way, when you get the chance, this story is also on my wattpad. I do plan to continue more fan fictions!

Hopefully you guys enjoy! 💕

*Suga & yourself are married in this story* ❤️

Sorry if this isn't the best, this is my first fanfic story I have ever written. I love Suga by the way! Haha. I am also writing this at 4 a.m. I all of a sudden woke up & decided to write! LOL.

Suga and yourself had made plans with your friends to go to a Halloween party hosted by Mr. Okiawa himself. Suga seemed to be excited when you both got the invitation. You remember him coming home from work and him showing you the message from Oikawa. He was so excited that it made you want to hug him so hard and give him thousands of kisses because he looked so darn adorable. That same night, you both stayed up looking up ideas for Halloween costumes.

"Y/N, what should we dress up as for Halloween? Should we buy couple costumes, or will you like to dress up as something specific?" Suga said while staring at his laptop. You responded with, "Honey, it's kind of late and we both have work tomorrow morning. Why not just come to bed and we can talk about the costumes tomorrow?" With your response, you saw Suga's little gleaming eyes a little dull. With that look, you felt bad and ended up staying up with him looking up costumes. You guys were looking at so many that you guys didn't know what to dress up as. You both did not go to sleep till 1 a.m. that night.

The next day, you both woke up with little eye bags under your eyes. You were dead tired but Suga had made coffee for you to give you some energy. He apologized to you for making you stay up late and especially for not being able to choose a costume. You told him, "Babe, don't stress out, we still have another 3 weeks to choose. Plus why won't we just go to the a costume store and try costumes on? It can be a little date for you and I. We can go grab something to eat while we look for costumes?" Suga loved your idea and you both agreed on going Friday afternoon since you both were out early that day.

*Time skip to Friday*

Suga was waiting for you to get back home. He was out earlier than expected. When you finally arrived home, it was 3 in the afternoon. He was so excited to go, you ended up going as is in your work clothes. He kept telling you that you looked gorgeous as always. You guys first went to go grab some burgers and fries at a burger joint because he knew you will be hungry. Then you guys went to the costume store. There, you guys ran into Hinata, Kenma, Yamaguchi, & Kageyama. The six of you were talking for a little bit before resuming to finding a costume. You asked the boys what they will be dressing up as so you and Suga can get an idea.

Hinata decided to dress up as a carrot, Kageyama, with the help of Hinata, is dressing up as a vampire. Kenma is dressing up as a character from Among us, & Yams was dressing up as a butler. You thought their costumes were the cutest. The boys ended up leaving & now it was time for you & Suga look for your costumes. You were walking around & saw a PB & J costume. You called Suga & asked if you guys can try them on. He was a bit iffy, but saw your excitement & agreed. You both got out of the dressing rooms & looked into the mirror. You began bursting in tears of laughter on how funny but adorable you two looked. Suga was not a fan, but he did ask if you wanted the costume. "Y/N, if you like this costume then let's buy them." You responded with, "Suga, that look in your face is telling me you don't like this costume. Let's look for another one." You gave him a smile, and asked him to at least take a mirror picture in them.

You guys resumed & tried on another 3 costumes. You guys tried on shark costumes, pig costumes, & Pokémon costumes. Suga was Ash & you dressed up as Pikachu. He was not a fan of any but you at least got mirror selfie's. You asked him, "Suga, so is there any idea of a certain costume you like?" You were beginning to become annoyed but tried your best not to bring the mood down. He said, "I really like classic costumes. Maybe like something in the 20's or 50's. Or a costume of a classic movie like Mary Poppins or the Wizard of Oz." From there, your brain clicked and you guys went to look for 20's costumes. All the costumes there at the store seemed in cheap quality & were a bit pricey. So you guys grabbed some accessories like, gloves for you, a cute black laced with black jewels head piece, a hat for him, fake cigs, & some other stuff.

From there, you guys left to a thrift store & bought a dress for you. You told him if you can call Asahi if he can fix up some costumes for you two. (You know, since Asahi is a fashion designer after all. LOL) He agreed & you guys waited for Asahi to show up to the thrift store. Asahi liked the dress you got & had instantly thought of an idea. For Suga, you guys went to another store, bought a white dress shirt, a black vest, & a burgundy & black suit. He also bought a black bow tie & vintage dress shoes. Thanks to Asahi for coming along, you guys finally had your outfits ready!

*Time skip to a week & a half later"

Asahi took about a week & a half to get your dress ready. He ended up taking the dress to your house. Suga offered to pay but he insisted not to pay him. Instead, he asked if you can make him some of your delicious rice balls, & you agreed. Asahi had both of you try on your costumes. When you guys did, Suga was so happy, you couldn't help but smile at his excitement. Asahi said, "you two look so nice! You guys will have eyes all over you."

*Time skip to the day of Halloween party*

"Y/N, are you ready?! It's almost time to go!!" Suga yelled from downstairs. You were rushing to finish up your makeup. Suga was very patient with you, but when the man had somewhere to go, he liked to be a little punctual. Plus, you knew how excited he was. You giggled and responded with, "Yes Suga, I just need to put on my lashes, my necklace, heels, & perfume." When he heard you say that, he rushed upstairs and says, "let me help you." You put on your lashes and he helped you put on your necklace. He looks at you from the mirror and goes, "you're very beautiful Mrs. Sugawara." You couldn't help but blush. He then gave you a sweet but soft kiss on your neck. He helped you put on your heels, you helped him put on his bow tie then you guys took a couple selfies & mirrored selfies.

Suga went to get the car ready while you packed your necessities in your purse. You had a cute burgundy with gold clutch for your costume but also you packed a regular sized purse with necessities just in case. Before you stepped out the house, he asked if you had everything ready. You smiled and nodded and he opened the car door for you.

You guys finally arrive to Oikawa's house. You guys saw about 30 cars parked outside. You mentioned to Suga, "man, Oikawa is super popular." Suga parked a little far from Oikawa's house. He was a little bummed because you guys arrived about an hour & a half late. He wanted to get good parking so you wouldn't have to walk far. He opened the door for you & he held your hand as you guys walked to the Halloween party. As you guys walked in, Oikawa greeted you both with hugs, & told you two how amazing you looked. He had a photographer at the door. You guys posed & the photographer gave your guys a copy of the picture in a Polaroid.

Suga & yourself were complimented almost the whole night. You guys ate, had a couple of drinks, (well mainly you because Suga was your D.D.), & you guys danced your butts off. You guys also ended up winning, "Best Halloween costume" and won a cute trophy & a $50 gift card for a famous restaurant.

Once you guys got home, Suga helped you take off your makeup, your outfit, & slipped you into your nightgown. Suga put the trophy & couple Polaroids you guys had on your nightstand. He Princess carried you into bed, & laid down next to you holding you close. He said, "Thank you beautiful for a fun night. You really looked amazing. Sorry I was a bit difficult when we were costume shopping. I still can't believe we won the contest! I love you, Ms. Sugawara." He then gave you a kiss on the forehead & fell asleep holding you.

[gabolange]

DVD commentary: talk about writing sex scenes for character purposes. Specifically, we have "All the Means to Make Us One" and "Strange How Certain the Journey." Same couple, same rating. The first is hella hot, the second isn't, particularly--which is the point. Discuss. Not just the why (which is probably fairly evident) but the how. What makes these scenes work differently?

For the DVD commentary meme:

Ooooh, I love this question. Because I think one of my favorite things about learning to write sex has been learning to write sex the way people have sex – sometimes it’s hella hot, sometimes it’s super meaningful, sometimes it’s about making a point, sometimes it’s a little routine, sometimes it’s not all that sexy. So…this got long...

So, let us consider All the Means to Make Us One: what makes that story hella hot and super meaningful? The first thing is the way Lucien sees Jean. He is absolutely thunderstruck by her, full stop. He’s not looking at her as a woman of her age (as is an extremely familiar trope), he’s not looking at her in comparison to anyone else (that would be gross, but it happens in fic), and when he is looking at her, he sees not only the woman he’s about to make love with, but…the woman he’s in love with. He doesn’t actually care what they do, precisely (though his fantasies fill in a whole bunch of choices), he just really cares that she’s here, and he’s absolutely amazed she’s here. 

The fantasies actually serve a fairly important purpose, both structurally and to gird all of that emotion. They anchor a couple different points in the first half of the story–when they come into the house, when they step into the bedroom–and that gives us a way to step into these moments with a familiar structure and a whole lot of Lucien’s enthusiasm for anything and everything that might happen. But they also stop at precisely the moment things start to get real, because all of a sudden whatever he has imagined doesn’t matter at all. He’ll do whatever she wants now, and next, and he gets his whole life to try stuff out and wow, isn’t that the most amazing thing that has ever happened?

The other and arguably most important thing is the way we see Jean through Lucien’s eyes. She is…absolutely all-in. She’s not nervous, she’s letting him lead this dance but she’s completely in control, and she is 1000000% committed to all of this. There are a lot of tropes that you see in sex stories with characters like Jean–who were married young, or who live in a certain time period, or who are religious, or all of the above–where great sex is new and surprising. And I know why people land there, and there are versions of that I can get behind. But for me, this story was all about Jean being excited about all of this but not shocked or startled or shy. Part of what makes this story sexy is that she’s excited and into it and wants to be there as much as Lucien does.

The emotional center of the story is halfway through or so, when Lucien goes down on Jean. She’s mostly naked, and he’s mostly dressed, and that story has been written for a million pairings across a million years (including by me, not as well – practice helps). But the emotion, and the language supporting that emotion, makes it go. So you get verbs like prostrate, you get the way this is laying Lucien bare way more than Jean, you get Lucien’s wanting to learn about Jean, you get Jean’s enthusiasm as she holds onto his hair, you get Lucien being utterly bowled over by the part where she married him at all – all in five tight paragraphs of what could be pretty standard het sex…but of course is not. 

And with all that, it ends up being hella hot and absolutely true to my vision of the characters:

The fashion of the day, of the last fifteen years, but she hardly needs help to keep her waist trim and her hips slim. She has always been stunning, and knowing her more has made her more so. And–he forgets his thoughts about her foundation garments, because now he has removed them and unclipped her stockings and he was right about her knickers. “Bloody hell,” he whispers, strangled. White lace, the curls of hair between her legs pressing against it in dark contrast, and he sinks to his knees before her.

It is nothing to prostrate himself before this woman, his wife, his Jean, who tips his head back so she can look at him, green eyes flashing. He’s still mostly dressed, tie askew, straining the trousers of his wedding suit at the knees and the crotch, and he wonders what she sees. He could not hide from her if he tried–he’s never been able to hide from her, and so he does not bother now. Let her see how much he wants her, how much he cannot believe they are here even as she twists her fingers in his hair.

She smiles, so gently he might shatter, and strokes his face. “I love you,” she says, acknowledgement and encouragement at once.

There is nothing for it but to press his mouth against her sex through the lace, breathing in deeply. The smell of her arousal is sweet and deep, like fruit at its ripest, and he darts his tongue out against the wet fabric–he has to taste her, to find out what this part of her is like. He wants to know every piece of her, intimately, but this especially, what type of touch makes her writhe, what makes her moan, and he licks at her, tongue flat against the crotch of her knickers. He hasn’t even touched her clit and yet she rocks against him, holding him by the hair against her, seeking her own pleasure.

He can barely breathe for the smell of her, the taste of her, but he doesn’t need to, not with the tang of her sex on his breath. It sparks his wonder–will she like it when he curls his fingers inside her? Will she wriggle when he kisses the curve of her bottom where it meets her leg? What makes Jean Blake–Jean Blake–scream?

He licks her again and again, pushing his tongue deeper into her through the lace of her knickers, curling his hands around her bum. She’s his new favorite flavor, her hips thrusting against his face his new perfect sensation, and her voice is strangled as she pulls at his hair. “God, Lucien,” she says. “Later.”

So, if it is the emotion and language that make one story hot…well, it’s the emotion and language that make the other story not quite as hot. 

Which is entirely intentional. Not that it’s not hot, precisely, but Strange How Certain the Journey has two tired people using sex as a communication tool. And in Jean’s POV, she tells us this: 

She put on Lucien’s favorite nightgown, a sky blue satin negligee that rests low between her breasts and falls far above her knees. He had bought it for her in Rome with an intimate grin, and they discovered together how well he liked the feel of the fabric against his skin. Wearing it now, she isn’t trying for conciliation so much as emphasis: see what you have here with me? Don’t throw it away.

But more than that, throughout the story, Jean uses language that isn’t particularly sexy:

She likens the motion to forming dough, the push and pull with her hands, the occasional pinch, only this never fails to leave Lucien pliant and wanting.

And: “Jean,” he says, face still resting against the pillow. Perhaps this is just a pleasant dream for him–but it won’t be if he comes on the sheets and she has to rouse him for laundry.

This kind of sex is, by now, kind of routine. It isn’t like laundry or bread making, but it is as much a part of her life as those things can be. And that doesn’t make it bad at all–it is familiar and enjoyable and she wants to have it–but also a useful tool for Jean to make a point that she loves Lucien even when she’s mad at him. It is, in fact, her best tool.

As the story progresses, we get almost to the main event (so to speak), and of course they’re halfway to having sex and stop to have an argument. And here the physicality and the way it isn’t terribly sexy is incredibly important – she wants him, but she’s touching him in ways that are gentle rather than hot: she strokes his scar and his ear, she holds his cheek in his palm. Their closeness enables their discussion–they still aren’t good at talking to each other, and the part where they’re naked helps–but those are all things they could do if they weren’t naked.

Finally, they have sex. And it’s good, but it still exists in comparison to other times they’ve done this (This doesn’t usually happen this quickly. Usually he can take his time with her, tasting and touching, a pleasure they both enjoy.) and it’s good but a little too fast and satisfying way more in the sense that it is happening at all (and everybody comes, yay!) than because of what they are doing or how they feel about it.

So, yes. Writing sex successfully (I hope): all about choosing the emotion you want and figuring out what language you need to prop up that emotion. I don’t, for the most part, write deeply interesting sex – two straight people typically have kind of straightforward straight people sex with a side of affirmative consent – but that can be meaningful or interesting or really hot or not so much based on how it’s told and what is right for the characters in that moment.

[misereremortem]

two

She only sleeps when she can't force herself to stay awake. Not that it makes a difference; her dreams bleed over into the day with barely any respite. But they're worse at night-- they're always worse at night.

Kytheon tries to stay awake with her on the particularly bad nights, to ground her, comfort her, but she realizes at about two in the morning he's dozed off on her shoulder, fingers still laced in hers. It's wearing them both down. At least he'll only have to deal with it for two more years.

A small cry comes from the girls’ bedroom down the hall. Aurelia pries herself away from her husband and tiptoes to check on them.

“Serena? Elspeth? What's the matter, songbirds?”

She opens the door and nearly screams at the sight she finds.

Both children stare up at her from their beds, glassy-eyed and grey-skinned and still, far, far too still. Blood spatters the walls, black in the moonlight, soaking the sheets, the floor, the curtains, everything Aurelia can see.

She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to move.

“It's not real,” she whispers, almost a prayer. “It's not real, none of this has been real.”

Slowly, she shuffles in, choking down the panic bubbling in her chest as she reaches out to her daughters. Elspeth's white curls, loosened and drenched with blood, cling to her face. Serena's hair leaves red streaks on her nightgown when Aurelia brushes it aside.

No, no, no...this isn't real, it can't be, it's just part of the curse. It's just part--

In unison, the girls sit up in their beds and lock their eyes on her. Still blood-soaked. Still dead.

“Why didn't you save us?”

The voices spilling from their mouths aren't theirs, too old, too loud, but Aurelia can't break the illusion.

“You were supposed to protect,” Serena cries.

“To heal,” Elspeth echoes.

“I did,” Aurelia whispers, no longer sure to whom she speaks. “I tried my best, I--”

“You failed!”

The full force of the reverberation hits Aurelia square in the chest and she bolts from the room, slamming the door behind her and gasping out sobs as she sinks to the floor.

It's not real. None of this is real. I'm going to wake up, it's going to stop, just breathe, Aurelia, just breathe while you still can.

She collects herself as much as she can, piece by piece, and cracks the door again. No blood painting the walls. No empty-eyed corpses shouting at her. Both girls sleep peacefully, the rise and fall of their chests bringing her some momentary peace.

Aurelia drags herself to her feet and back into her bedroom. She pins up the strands of hair that have fallen, her hands still shaking-- and freezes again when she finds the bed empty.

“Kytheon?”

She shuffles around the edge of the room, her heart picking up the pace again.

“It's alright, love, I just...I thought I heard one of the girls crying. I'm okay, I--”

“Why would you do it?”

This time, as she spins on her heels and finds herself greeted by the walking corpse of her husband, half his skull caved in by a massive blow, cold and grey and pockmarked by decay, Aurelia screams.

“Why did you bring me back if you were just going to abandon me? Why did you bother? Why would you lead me on if you weren't going to stay?”

“Kytheon--”

“You made a vow! Of all people, you should know the weight that holds. And you would just let this curse break it?!”

“No, Kytheon, I--” She reaches out to take his face in her shaking hands, but he jerks away. “I've tried, my love, you know I have, I don't want to go any more than you want me to--”

“Liar.”

Aurelia has seen him angry-- righteous anger in the war, frustration at himself for perceived shortcomings, but never at her. He's never been angry at her. Not until now.

“You didn't do it for anyone but yourself, did you? You only brought me back to feel better about yourself. So that you didn't feel like a complete failure when you let your father kill you and let all of us down.”

“That's not true. You know that's not true.” This isn't real. It's just the curse. This isn't real. It's just--

“Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better.” He shakes his head, pure disgust engraved in his distorted, decaying features. “I don't know why I ever thought I loved you.”

For the first time, he turns his back on her and walks away.

Aurelia shrinks back against the wall, too shaken to even breathe regularly, clutching her chest like it's been sliced open again. It's only a nightmare-- it's only a hallucination, it has to be-- he's alive, she brought him back, the girls are alright, it's only a dream--

Then she sees Alistair, his throat torn open by massive claws, and her heart plummets.

“What happened to 'nobody goes off alone,’ Aurelia?”

The tears stream openly down her face, any semblance of composure obliterated. She tries to take his hands in hers, give her some piece of closure.

“I'm sorry, Alistair, gods, I'm so sorry...I should have been there, I promised I'd--”

“Don't fucking touch me,” he spits. “As if a promise from you ever meant anything. Only mattered if someone broke one to you, right? Didn't matter what we needed from you.”

Aurelia shakes her head wordlessly, her knees slowly giving out beneath her.

Alistair spits again. “You were so obsessed with your own tragedy-- you were so convinced you were broken that you blinded yourself to everyone else's pain! I nearly got reclaimed by the fucking Divine Gate, and all you cared about was how it affected you!

“I died too, Aurelia! And do you know what I got? Nothing! I saw nothing! I felt nothing! No walks and talks with a god, no bittersweet comfort, just endless, black nothing! How do you think that made me feel? To know I had that sword dangling over my head instead of a happy afterlife? Instead of seeing my mother again?! But you know what I did? I dealt with it! I didn't wallow in it like you, I didn't panic at the sight of the weapon that killed me or freeze going into combat. I dealt with it like an adult instead of obsessing over it like a child.

“Do you know who had to deal with it when you died? The living! We did! We had to watch you fall and wrestle with the fact that we might not get you back! I thought I lost you-- for good! You lied to me, Aurelia! You told me you protected yourself but you were so keen to be a martyr, weren't you? You wanted to win the suffering game, didn't you?”

“That's not--”

She gasps for enough air just to keep her alive. Talking doesn't even matter.

“I never wanted to...to win anything. Not like that.”

Alistair snorts. “Well, congratulations. You did it anyway. You're the champion now, aren't you?”

Aurelia collapses onto the floor with her head in her hands. She doesn't hear Alistair leave; she doesn't even hear herself crying anymore, only the deep, painful gulps of air in between sobs. Nor does she notice another arrival, settling next to her.

“Kytheon told me what you said to him. That you wished you'd stayed dead. Well, now I can't say I disagree with you.”

She can't bring herself to look her twin in the eye.

“Did you even try, Aurelia? You had the resources of a kingdom at your disposal and you still didn't manage to break this curse? You had ten years! And you just...let it slip away.”

Antony smacks the floor between them.

“It makes me wonder if you even wanted to break it-- to live, with your family-- or if this was just a prolonged suicide.”

She snaps her head up, reddened eyes glaring. The side facing her bears no wounds, only the scars from the fire plane and the creature Urien built.

“You think I would ever want this? You think I want to leave my daughters to grow up without me? My husband? You, Antony?”

Her fists ball up in her skirt.

“If you think any of that is true for one gods-damned second, you don't know me at all.”

He glares right back at her, and when he faces her full on she can see the other side of his face disappearing, like ash in the wind, bit by bit by bit.

“No, I suppose I don't, then. The sister I knew was vibrant, she was kind, she let nothing stand in her way. She stood tall against her greatest fears and she'd move heaven and earth for what she loved. You...you're not her. You're either a coward, or you're just...cruel. I don't know which one's worse.”

He stands, pacing away from her, contempt rolling off him in waves she'd only felt from one other person. Her legs won't support her, but she straightens up and steadies herself as best she can.

“I shouldn't have wasted that ritual on you. It's not like you've done anything with it. Except get yourself cursed, like the naive little girl you are, without any regard at all for the rest of us. All of this is your fault. All the death, all the torment, you brought this on yourself. You can play innocent with Alistair, or with Kytheon, but you can't fool me, Relly.”

“Antony, please--”

He marches up and jabs a cold finger into her chest. “I do know you-- I know you too well. You did this to yourself, and you know it, and you know you're going to have to pay that price because you can't run away from this one.”

Their eyes lock for just a moment, his furious, hers pleading. Antony breaks first and turns away.

“Don't wait for me when you go. With any luck, I'll beat you there so I don't have to watch you keep denying your self-destruction.”

He fades away before she can find the words to respond.

And then, it's quiet. Aurelia only realizes how quiet when her gasps reduce to sniffles, her sobbing to occasional, broken cries. She dares to take a slow, deep breath-- let it out. Again-- and let it out.

Nothing.

It's over, then. It has to be.

She still doesn't move from the floor, afraid of what she'll find if she turns around to the bed.

Instead, she holds her head in her hands, focusing so intently on the grain of the wood flooring she feels it might combust. It was only a dream. It's over now. Count yourself back down. Five, four, three, two--

“So this is what you've done with your second chance at life.”

No. Not him. Anyone but him.

Slowly, the pit of her stomach sinking lower and lower, Aurelia forces herself to look up. Standing at the window, peering out onto the castle grounds in that familiar, intimidating military stance, waits Atticus Volpe.

“When you and your brother were three years old,” he says, “the two of you caught a fever that was making its way around the city. He returned to full health quickly. You did not. Your mother told me it was... inappropriate I shouldn't wish for the recovery of both of my children. I still don't believe yours was for the best.”

She shakes her head, curling in on herself. “Why…”

Why would you think that, why would you say that, why are you here?

But she can't form the questions.

“I would still be alive. The Academy would be in better hands.” He finally turns to look at her, a single eyebrow raised. “My name and legacy wouldn't be attached to a foolish girl about to die of the curse she invited on herself.”

She wants to argue. She wants to defend herself, explain about the curse, about everything-- to have the last word he hadn't allowed her eight years ago. But she's exhausted. She's run out of fight. At least for the night, if not for her remaining two years, she can't do it anymore.

“Leave, Atticus. Just leave.”

“No. You haven't learned your lesson.”

In the blink of an eye he's inches away from her, in full armor and glaive in hand. She barely had time to know what's about to happen despite the thousands of times it already has.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“Don't get up again.”

Aurelia jerks awake in a cold sweat with a gasp. Kytheon's head still rests on her shoulder, both his arms around her now, holding her close as though it's their last night together.

[memelovescaps]

snapedom snape community severus snape snape fanart pro snape pro severus snape hp disney style hp cartoon hp fanart hp illustration goblet of fire the nightgown isn't half as bad as people make it out to be so what if it's grey what color was it supposed to be? pink? neon green? was he supposed to sleep in blue satin pajamas with moons and stars on them like dumbledore? cause I bet he sleeps in one of those xd a nightshirt is a perfectly normal sleepwear it definitely was in medieval times and we all know hp / wizarding culture is rooted deeply in the middle ages at least where fashion is concerned

Winter 1995 - Severus Snape hears a scream in the middle of the night so he jumps out of bed and runs across the castle in his nightgown ‘cause who cares about decorum when someone might be dying

With a special dedication to @frillions