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lostinlovingrevery · 2 days ago

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Head Over Heels

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

Plot: You have a major crush on Logan, and decided he's too pretty to not paint

A/N: This is purely me just being a huge romantic. I also got a polaroid camera for christmas that i use to take pictures of everything so...

Warnings: None! This is pure fluff, Reader is just a huge romantic, and crushes on Logan big time. Mentions of the other X-men, taking pictures, painting?

Word Count: 1741

Golden sun rays

Dusty library books

Tall, broody, and handsome

You were observing a photo in your study at Xavier's School for the Gifted. You were a professor there, teaching classes such as mutant ethics, mutant history, and mutant biology. Anything with mutants, that was your job; and that was by day- by night, you were an X-man. You went on dangerous missions in the name of making the world better and safer for people. You were strong, intelligent, compassionate…

And a total romantic.

You loved love. Not just romantic love, but platonic love, familiar love. You loved art, religion, and politics. You found beauty in everything, even the mundane. It didn’t matter if you’ve gotten your heartbroken before, if you were ridiculed for your passion, you enjoyed life and what it had to offer. Was every day like that? No, but that’s okay, because it only made the good days sweeter.

You carried a polaroid camera with you often. It allows you to take pictures of things whenever you want, things that strike your fancy. A pretty rose that bloomed in the garden, a sunset at the beach, Hank in his lab, Jean and Ororo painting each others nails, Scott glaring at the camera, students studying in the halls, a bird perched on the window sill, Charles in his office, a forgotten bottle of soda sitting outside-

And your most recent addition to the collection on your wall, a photo of the X-men's new-ish recruit, Logan Howlett, the big bad Wolverine.

He arrived close to 6 months ago. To say you immediately crushed on him the moment he showed up was an understatement. Love at first sight- was probably a more accurate description of what happened. It wasn’t enough that you already thought he was extremely handsome, his lovely face with those mutton chops , that thick head of chestnut colored hair, his hazel eyes - sharp and fierce one moment - sweet and pretty the next. He had the body that you could only compare to a Greek God.

The attitude though, when he opened his mouth, the attitude that pissed people off but only spurred you on.

You were head over heels. Ororo teased you that you practically had heart eyes for the wild man whenever he was around.

You two quickly became friends- if you could describe it as that since Logan Howlett does still try to be a “cool guy”, acting suave and nonchalant, but you would quickly break through the barriers he’d set up. Not because of your little “crush”, but because you were a naturally welcoming person. You understood people, had the patience of a saint, and the confidence to not take shit. All perfect for dealing with the Wolverine. You saw right through him. The sarcasm and the cockiness he would sport. As you grew to know him, your feelings turned less from a schoolgirl crush to something more serious deep in your soul, an ache to take care of him the way no one else has- the way he deserved. You felt he had the same feelings for you, the protectiveness that he had for you, the way he picked up on your habits and quirks, and how he always spoke just a bit more softly to you than he does to anyone else. Whatever was happening, was blossoming slowly- but surely.

Nonetheless, you weren’t going to rush anything.

But, when you saw him in the library, standing near a dusty shelf lined with books no one has touched in years, he was staring out a window, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his expression soft and reflective, with golden rays of the evening sun highlighting his features, you thought it was one of the prettiest things you have ever seen. You could see the thoughtfulness in Logans face, a relaxed expression that is rarely spotted on the Wolverine- who normally is gruff, a frown always seemed to be permanently painted on his face. It so happened you had your camera on you, so you quickly snapped a photo- and took off before he looked in your direction, knowing that with his amplified hearing, he would have heard the click of the camera.

The photo honestly captivated you, like a painting with the way the sun rays came in through the window. It highlights the warm color of his hair, the structure of his face, and the toned muscles of his arm.

You used to paint all the time. It was a hobby you thoroughly enjoyed, as it relaxed you- allowing you to take in the small details, slow down, and appreciate the gentle strokes of the brush as you carefully choose the perfect color to paint onto the canvas. You’d paint the pictures you’ve taken if they had an impact on you- much like how the Polaroid of Logan was impacting you now. You hadn’t painted in a long time, the work of being a professor and an x-men left little time to enjoy the hobby that takes a lot of time.

Seeing though, as you had time now. Why not?

Digging out your old stand, and your paints and old brushes, and fortunately, you still had at least one bare canvas left, otherwise you would have likely covered one of your older paintings- which were still stuffed in the closet of your study, to use instead. An intense need to create and make something just as beautiful as Logan was in that photo.

Starting with the background, you found yourself back in your familiar style of painting, eyeing the colors of the photo. The color of the wall, the floors, and filled in the shadows and got the placement of the window juuuust right, and was just starting to work on the bookshelf that would be behind Logan. You’d been working on it for nearly an hour, your normally overactive brain had silenced itself to focus on your task.

You hadn’t noticed Logan walking in at first. He had been looking around for you, having a surprise to give you- and found that no one else had seen you in a while, which was odd- since you were a complete busybody- and you could be spotted easily all over the mansion. He went to your study, and found you by the window, staring intensely at a canvas before you, sitting on a chair with your legs criss-crossed. He walked up to you- not silently, only clearing his throat to announce his arrival once he was next to you.

Jumping at the sound of his voice, and turning to look at him, your hand quickly snatched the polaroid that was perched against the canvas so you can look at it for reference. Logan didn’t miss how you grabbed it, and snuck it under your thigh. He quirked a brow.

“What you working on bub?”

“Oh…” You turned to look at the canvas, and a deep blush came across your cheeks. “Just…Painting.”

“I didn’t know you could paint.” He says, a small tone of interest in his voice, making you perk up a bit.

“I haven’t done it in awhile.” shrugging, and glancing at the canvas- and relieved you hadn’t worked on Logan's actual figure yet and suddenly very aware that you had been acting on impulse- wondering if it had been strange that you decided to just paint a picture of Logan after you secretly- but not so secretly took a picture of him earlier... “I just…got hit with inspiration I suppose.”

“Yeah?” He glanced at it. “What are you painting?...” He observed it and you let him work the details out. “A window…that a bookshelf?”

“Excellent observation skills Lo.”

He smirked. “You do anything specific with your paintings or just…whatever?”

“I paint things I find pretty.” You say simply tilting your head to look up at him. An expression came across his face- something you couldn’t quite gauge.

“Oh yeah?” He says. He glanced at it again. His eyes trailed over back to you. “What's so pretty about this one?”

“You’ll have to find out.” You tittered. He quirked a brow, before looking back at the canvas. The way he kept observing it made you nervous. The gears in that beautiful head of his turning. Did he recognize it?

“Hey, you take any pictures today?” He asked with a casual tone.

Your smile faltered a bit, and you bit your lower lip, chewing on it nervously.

He’s on to you

“I took a few.” You answered- your very best to be nonchalant, but he could hear the slight waver of your voice. As he placed a hand on the back of your chair, he leaned down towards you, his chin tilted upwards but his eyes bore down at you, a small quirk of his lips. Your heart started beating faster at his close proximately, and he lowered his chin down, leaving you both nearly face to face. His eyes glanced at your lips.

“Take any by chance in…the library?”

You swallowed, unable to tear yourself away, as a warm heat came across your cheeks. As he got closer, unable to bring yourself to answer just then- but you felt he knew what it was. Your eyes traced over his lips, and you decided you weren’t going to hide it anymore. A smile grew across your lips, as you tilted your head up at him. Confidence filled your chest,

“I did. Of something I thought was very pretty.” You say, looking him in the eyes. A sweet smile came across his face and he closed the space between you, softly pressing his lips to yours- a heartbeat passed, giving you a chance to pull away by some off chance he was wrong, but you eagerly returned the kiss. Turning your head softly to meet with him, your noses bumped together, and you began to giggle. Your whole self felt like butterflies as adrenaline ran through your veins at the fact that you were finally, finally, kissing him.

You separated, and you felt like he just stole your breath; He didn’t look like he felt no different from you either. His lips, slightly parted, curved up into a smile, and brought a hand up to your chin, his thumb softly pressing to your bottom lip, as you looked up at him with bright, adoring eyes.

“You got that camera on you? I got something pretty I want to take a picture of too.”

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff #van daydreams

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prettyshinnythings · 2 days ago

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The Offering. Chapter 3

Story Idea: What if Sauron had been successful? What if he'd taken all of Middle Earth and obtained everything he ever desired? What if he still desired something more?

Warnings: This chapter is 18 plus. Contains smut, language, and an arranged marriage.

Pairings: Sauron x Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

My breathing was uneven.

My body tense as I walk through the halls of the castle.

I had awoken this morning in my bed, alone and with no sign of my new husband. It had been a strange feeling waking up all alone but, just as I had felt the morning before, I could feel his gaze upon me without him physically near me. Even still, some of me felt empty when I awoke in our bed alone. A fear that all mornings would be lonely found itself deep within my heart. Last night had been unlike anything I could have dreamed of. When my dark king touched me, my body was on fire and completely at his whim. Consemating our marriage felt like two souls coming together. Not just two bodies bound together out of necessity, but out of want and desire. He had been so gentle and careful with me, so much so that I could convince myself that he must feel something deeper for me than pure obligation. I attempt to shake the thought from my head as I travel the candle-lit hallways on my own.

I did not know my way around the castle yet, but something inside of me told me that I could not hide away all morning. I knew that I would have to face him eventually. I worried if he would feel differently for me in the cruel light of the morning. That perhaps he would see me and be displeased now that we had been officially wed. This fear struck me deeply whilst I dressed this morning with my two handmaidens. Another new gown for me to wear.

A gown of black velvet, molded to my body like a second skin. With a deep neckline that would expose the valley between my breasts if it were not for the sheer fabric carefully sewn into the velvet gown. Black beading traces up the sheer fabric, a design of vines and flowers emphasizing the black velvet gown. My long (h/c) curls are loose and cascade down my back. I was dressed with him in mind, hoping he would like the way the dress clung to my form. My hands trace the stone walls as I walk the halls, mentally attempting to recall exactly where the throne room was. The rough texture of the stone makes my fingers tingle, but I do not care to notice. My brain wanders with each passing step that I take. Until eventually I hear the sound of voices echoing down the hallway. I pass by a set of grand doors and stop in the doorway. I noticed the long wooden tables that were separated on two sides of the room, with only a single carpeted aisle in the middle of the room. Following the carpet path with my eyes, I spot the table at the head of the room. The table my husband sits at with another man, the two of them speaking to each other in hushed voices.

I breathe a deep sigh and force myself passed the doorway. I try my best to smile at the other people in the room who sit at the other tables. Members of my husband's court who smile at me back out of obligation. I pause at the table before my husband, who stops speaking with the mystery man once I am before him. He leans his head back against the cool wood of his chair, his eyes darkening a few shades as he studies me. The smirk he always seemed to wear plays on his lips as he looks me up and down. He takes in every inch of my body, every curve the dress clings to. His smirk grows when I curtsy before him, my eyes focused on my dark king and no one else. He tilts his head in approval before gesturing for me to stand and join him at his side. I walk around the table and give him a small smile when he stands and his hands reach out to take mine in his. He pulls my body to his, knocking the wind out of me momentarily.

"Good morning little dove..."

He pauses and leans in, his lips descending onto mine, granting me a tender kiss.

"... I am sorry I left you before you awoke this morning. I had things to attend to. I shall try not to make a habit of it."

He explains, pressing his forehead to mine. His thumbs draw circles on my hands whilst he holds them. His touch is gentle and considerate.

"You do not need to explain yourself. You are busy. I understand. I am the last thing you need to worry about."

I whisper the words, my eyes meeting his. He peers down at me in quiet contemplation. Perhaps he worried I would be a wife who relied on her husband too much for companionship. Or he feared that I would not understand that his duties far exceeded the new wife he had married out of obligation.

"Do you doubt your importance to me little dove? Have I not made my desire for you clear?"

His voice is lower when he speaks, his lips moving to my ear so he can whisper;

"Shall I prove my unwavering desire for you here? In the great hall amongst the members of my court? Hmm? Shall I fuck you in front of them all to prove that there is no one else I covet more than you?"

My breathing hitches at his words, our gazes locking together when he pulls back to look at me. The look he gives me is a mixture of delightful mischief as he knows exactly what his words have done to me. My cheeks are flushed, my heart is pounding, and I can feel the dampness of my arousal pooling between my legs. His smirk grows as he reaches out to place the back of his hand along my forehead and cheeks.

"Are you not feeling well my lady? You look feverish."

I give him a playful pout at his jape at my expense. My hands reach to pull his away from my forehead. I pull myself in against him, hands on his chest before responding quietly.

"Very funny. How else am I to react when you say such devilish things to me?"

I look up at him wide-eyed. The room around us is suddenly quiet and a small part of me fears that everyone somehow heard him and I speaking. Amused by this fear he smiles down at me and I cannot help but find myself ensnared by the beauty of his face. The contrast to what I had known he had done to become king to begin with. I would never have believed that 'Sauron the Terrible' could be so beautiful. But I also knew that he could change forms when he wanted. I wondered what those other forms looked like. I had only ever heard of his fair form. The long blonde hair and the elven ears, an appearance he wore to mock the elves he had enslaved upon his rise to power. This mockery was evident in the clothing he wore, shoes, and other jewelry pieces he would wear from time to time. The only two things he wore that we purely a reflection of who he was, his ring of power and the crown of Morgoth that adorned his head when he was in front of his court.

Without thinking I find myself reaching out to touch the base of his crown. Not because I wish to hold it, but because I wish to feel its dark power. His smile falters at the movement, his eyes watching me closely. I must look ridicilous as I stand on my tip toes to reach for his crown, but he humors me by tilting his head down slightly so I can reach it better. Once the palm of my hand reaches the blackened metal I feel somehing strange shoot through me. An odd feeling that I could not place. He can sense this odd feeling too, because his brow furrows the second I feel it. My eyes flutter closed and I breathe in deeply, the metal calling to me like a song I had never heard before. In my head, I see images and memories attached to the crown. I see the bloodlust, anger, and hatred that any barrer of the crown had felt. But I also feel the pain, torment, and trauma of the barrer as well. I see Sauron himself, in different forms, but undeniably him. I see all he had gone through and feel it in my very being until I can no longer stand another second of it. Forcing my eyes open, a tear escapes me, my lips quivering at the cold pulsating within me from his memories. Slowly I pull my hand away from the crown, my eyes locking with his once more.

"Do not pity me little dove. All I have done has brought me here. To where I belong."

He misunderstood my tears. For I do not pity him, I understand him in a way I never dreamed possible. How had one been seen and felt so much without imploding? How had he made it this far along?

"I would never pity you, my king. I am in awe of you. Of your very journey that brought you here. It is truly inspiring."

Doubt flashes over his eyes but I mean every word and he knows it. His hands find either side of my face and I realize that I am still standing on my tip toes. Without a warning, his lips find mine. He kisses me as though we are alone, and in this moment it does feel that way. His courtier's eyes fade into obscurity as long as I am in his arms, nothing else matters. I deepen the kiss without a care, his hands falling to my waist before pulling me in against him. I want more of him and he wants more of me, but when the faint clearing of a throat sounds from behind us, his lips leave mine. My chest is heaving from the lack of air, but I do not care about the witnesses.

"My lord-"

The man's voice stills in his throat as he looks at the man who has interrupted us. I can see the discomfort on the man's face as he attempts to speak once more but remains silent still.

"Do you not see I am busy with my wife? Whatever it is you have to say can wait. In fact, all of you need to leave. NOW."

My dark king's voice is full of authority, his voice rising. The others in the room stand up without question and I hear the sound of their chairs scraping against the stone of the great hall. The quick steps of the courtiers sound throughout the room while I peer up at my husband, my body at his whim and completely enthralled by him. Once we are alone he flicks his hand and the doors of the great hall slam shut and give us privacy. As his lips find mine once more. I do not miss a beat, I cling to him as his mouth explores my own. The caution of the night before seems to have ceased to exist as he lifts my body up onto the table he had been sitting at. He pushes the food and drinks out of the way and lays me against the firm wood of the table. He remains standing, leaning over the table, using his height to his advantage.

"I have thought of you all night. Whilst you slept beside me, all I could think about was taking you again."

I moan when he rasps the words against my throat. My hands are on his chest while he stands between my legs. He has me spread before him. Somewhere in the mess of our kiss, he managed to lift my dress up, exposing me to the cold. His smirk grows when he realizes I am not wearing undergarments.

"Why did you not take me again? I would give you anything you wanted as many times as you wanted my king. You need not ask. I am yours to use for your pleasure."

The words fall from my lips in a breathless whimper, his lips gently sucking on my neck. Marking me as his own.

"It is not only my pleasure I am thinking of. Besides it was your first time. You needed to rest and I quite enjoyed how sweet you looked curled up next to me. Like I was not the man that I am as if you were not bound to someone who has done the evil I have done."

I knew the evil he had done. The histories of what was once the way of life in Middle Earth and what is now have been taught to me since I came to be. Since I was an elven child. I had never mourned the life that Middle Earth once had for I had never known a time without Sauron's rule. And while I did not share his bloodlust or his desire for power and order, I could not bring myself to see him in a negative light. I had seen how soft he was with me, how much care he showed me in our time together, and surely that meant something.

"I cannot judge your past, my king. I can only live in the here and now. And what I feel for you is an unrelenting desire. A need to please you in whatever way you seek."

An undetectable look flickers over his face as he studies me below him. A look similar to the one he gave me last night. He draws circles along the inside of my thighs and breathes in a deep sigh. Slowly, his fingers trail up my thighs, pushing more of the fabric of my gown up, bunching it up around my waist. He does not speak, only keeps his eyes on me before getting onto his knees. His head disappears between my thighs and his lips find my sensitive bud. I breathe a sharp sigh when he gives my bud a kiss. My entire body felt as if it was extremely sensitive from the night before.

The sensitivity sends another sharp sigh up my spine, my breathing hitching when I feel his tongue dip between my folds. I gasp at the sensation, the night before he had only used his fingers to pleasure me before fucking me with his cock. I had no idea that his tongue could make me feel just as good.

"My word."

I whimper as his hands move to hold my thighs apart, his tongue delving ever deeper. I hear him chuckle at my words, but I cannot bring myself to be ashamed. My head is spinning and I feel so good that I could not care less if I said something embarrassing. I am so wet that I fear I could drown him in my arousal. But he tastes me as if I am the purest honey he has ever had. My hands grasp for something to hang onto as the familiar tightening in my stomach begins to build. I was going to cum at any moment and he could sense it. The way that my walls began to tighten around his tongue.

"I do not know if I can last another moment my king."

When he hears me speak, his tongue dives deeper inside of me, almost as if he likes the challenge of making me come undone around him. His pace quickens, his grip on my thighs tight. I lay there with my head continuing to spin, my body completely caught up in him. My back arches off of the table, my moans falling from my lips. I am loud but I do not care. If anyone hears us, that is on them. Let them hear how my king makes me feel so complete. Seeming to read my thoughts, his tongue gives another sharp flick of my sensitive bud and it is what sends me completely over the edge. I feel my legs tremble as I cum on his tongue. He laps up every drop, drinking from me like my body is the nectar of the gods. I lay there breathless, my body slowly coming down from its high. He remains safely tucked between my thighs until he has tasted every last drop of me. It is only then that he re-emerges, his satisfied smirk causing my cheeks to redden.

"You taste divine, little dove."

He rasps, his hands reaching for me. He pulls me up so I am no longer lying on the table, our bodies now face to face. It takes me a moment to collect myself, my head is still spinning from what he had done to me. I find myself resting my hands on his chest, my breathing uneven. He holds onto me when he realizes that I am dizzy. His gaze is soft. Slowly his lips find mine and it is the most gentle kiss I have ever felt. Almost as if he is trying to ground me as if he is trying to grant my brain much-needed clarity. I taste myself on his lips, the sweetness of my arousal sending a chill up my spine. It is only when he senses that my dizziness has subsided that he breaks the kiss. His eyes lock with mine.

"Tonight, there will be a ball to celebrate our marriage. All shall look upon you and kneel before their dark queen. That is why I left you this morning, to finalize the details."

I look back at him in wonder. He wanted to celebrate our marriage. It was a kind thing to be sure and completely unexpected.

"Sauron, you do not have to do all of this for me."

He nods, but his furrowed brows protest.

"I want to. But there is one thing I wish to ask you for in return."

I study him closely and mentally ponder what he could want from me. Instead, I lean into him and place my lips to his for a single kiss to his lips before peering up at him with a look of understanding.

"Whatever it is you want, I shall give it to you."

I mean the words and he knows I do. I have no clue what it was about him that made me fall so deeply so quickly. I should be wary of the man who had always been referred to as the great deceiver, but I could not bring myself to care if he was deceiving me. I only cared for his happiness. He knows this and I can sense it in the way that he looks down at me, recognition of what I had been thinking reflected in his eyes.

"Please do not call me Sauron. When I first came to be I was known by another name; Marion. I wish for you to call me this, only you. With you, I am the most myself I have been in over an age. Sauron is who I shall be with the world, but Marion is who I shall be for you and only you."

Tears find my eyes without warning. His request, so sweet that I almost wondered if I misheard him for a moment.

"Marion..."

I whisper in awe, his name falling from my lips so naturally it is as if I had never known him by another name. The smile that finds his lips is unlike any other that he has displayed in front of me thus far. It is a smile so genuine that I feel as if my heart will melt.

"... Marion, my king, and my husband, it is so nice to know your true name. For I shall serve you and no one else for all of my days. Until the end of time."

Day fell into night. Faster than my nerves were willing to accept. I had already survived a wedding before a court of strangers, but now I would have to face them all again. My nerves were on edge, worse now that I knew I would have to ready myself. My breathing is uneven as I stand in the center of the room, looking at my bed. My eyes glance over the three dresses that had been laid out before me with the help of my silent handmaidens. One emerald green, one red, and one pale blue. All of them are beautiful and beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of wearing.

"Which would you pick?"

I ask the blonde one, and hopefully, she will speak to me if I initiate it. But the maiden looks at me with wide eyes, glancing between me and the brunette she was always accompanied by. My heart hurts to look at my fellow elvish sisters, the silence that they seemed forced into.

"Please talk to me. I promise anything you say will stay between us. I cannot bear your forced silence."

I sound desperate when I speak with them, my hands on my heart as I plead with them. They do not speak though, instead, they look at each other with sympathetic expression. They want to speak to me, but for whatever reason they cannot.

"They will not speak to you little dove. Unless I allow them to."

My husband's voice sounds from the doorway. He had come in so quietly that I had not heard him prior to this moment. My eyes dart to him, noting how his tall form fills the doorway, his hands on either side of the wooden panel. My two maidens freeze in place, bodies standing straighter once they realize their king is here. I look at him in honest confusion whilst he takes a step inside of the room. The servants take a few steps back, curtsying before him. He waves them off carelessly with his eyes on me. Every step he takes towards me is countered by the elf maidens, like a dance of avoidance. As if space could spare them if he wanted to harm them.

"Why do they need to be silenced?"

I ask cautiously, unsure of what his response will be. Amusement finds his face, his eyes darkening a few shades when he glances over at the elves.

"The elves have always found themselves to be better than everyone else. They judge and condemn anything they believe to be beneath them. So, when I rose to power I thought it only fair that I put them in their place. Silencing their judgment and enslaving them amongst creatures they deemed so unworthy."

The elven maidens finally sidestep close enough to the door that they can leave. Curtsying one final time before closing our bedroom door behind them.

"Is it necessary? Could you make an exception for my maidens? It is awkward to communicate with them when they are silent all of the time."

My request amuses him thoroughly and causes him to chuckle. At first, he does not answer me, only turns his attention to the dresses that had been laid out on our bed. Quietly he observes the three options that had been provided. With one hand out, he traces over the fabric of each gown.

"What would you have me do little dove? Surely you know that if I allow them to speak it will only be a matter of time before others appeal to that kind heart of yours. Then you will want me to grant others the same permission. I cannot have others finding me weak because I care for you. They will use that care and exploit it for their own gain."

His logic is sound, but I do not agree and he knows it. He glances over at me when I move to stand at his side. The look he gives me is teasing almost as if he is testing me to try and push my luck on the topic.

"Marion."

I plead, my eyes wide. His amusement grows when I use his name.

"(y/n)."

He replies, eyes back to the gowns laid out on the bed. He picks the red gown up off of the dress and hands it to me.

"Wear this one."

The satin fabric is so soft and luxurious in my hands. Almost too precious to be touched by the likes of me. I nod quietly before laying it on top of the dresser beside the bed, where my undergarments are kept.

"I am an elf. Do you wish to silence me?"

I ask him, watching him closely as he collects the other two gowns and drapes them over the footer of our bed. He sighs and shoots me a look that tells me his amusement of the topic is starting to wear thin. So I decide to play dirty. I put my hands up in defense and give him an innocent doe-eyed expression before turning my back to him to expose the intricately tied corset of my black gown.

"Would you help me out of this? Since you scared off my handmaidens."

I keep my wide eyes on him as I glance over my shoulder, quietly beckoning for him to rid me of my dress. With raised eyebrows and a huff, his hands find the laces of my corset. His hands are rough with the strings as he begins undoing them one by one.

"I know what you are doing little dove and it is not going to work."

He rasps the words in my ear, breathing along my neck while he speaks. He may be saying that it is not going to work, but I feel the energy in the room changing around us. Like an invisible fog slowly descending on us.

"Humor me. Let's say I was able to tempt you into allowing me to get my way, how would that look? What would I need to do to tempt you into considering it?"

He finishes unlacing my corset while I speak, his hands finding my skin as he slowly pulls the fabric of my gown open. He traces my bare back before guiding his fingers up to either side of my shoulders. He pulls the long sleeves of my dress down and off of my arms and when he does the dress falls around me on the floor. Reminiscent of the way my wedding dress fell to the ground the night before. Stepping out of the dress I turn to face him completely naked. His eyes are darker, almost black while he studies me as if he is seeing me for the first time all over again.

"Perhaps you and I are even better matched for one another than I could have ever imagined."

He whispers, hands tracing my body and staring at my collarbone before slowly descending down to my bare breasts. My nipples harden under his touch and our gazes remain locked together as a battle of wills seems to ignite.

"I would never wish to silence you little dove. Even if you are an elf..."

He pauses, replying to my previous question.

"...No, I intend to make you scream for me. For all to hear. So no one ever doubts who it is you belong to."

I swallow hard at the words, a dampness forming between my thighs. A dampness he notices instantly. The smirk finds his lips as it always seems to in moments like this, but he does not act. Instead, he pulls away from me.

"Close your eyes and do not open them until I tell you to."

His tone is commanding and I know better than to defy him. I force my eyes closed and stand there, my other senses seeming to heighten as a result of my closed eyes. From behind my eyelids, I hear the sound of clothing being discarded onto the cool stone of our bedroom floor. My breathing hitches in anticipation, goosebumps erupting all over my skin as the room seems to grow cooler. I hear the bed dip down as if someone has laid down in it. After a moment I hear him speak once more.

"Open your eyes, sweetling."

I do not waste a second before doing as instructed and when I do I feel my heart skip a beat. He lays in our bed, directly in the middle with his head propped up on a pillow, hand pumping his cock as he watches me. He does not need to tell me to walk forward before I find myself doing it already. I walk from the foot of our bed, meeting him at the edge of our bed. I do not speak as I watch him slowly pump his cock, precum leaking from the tip. His beautiful length is thick and veiny, ready to tear me apart. I find myself frozen in place at the sight of him, completely naked, the muscles in his lower stomach tight as his cock begins to grow needy for friction. Slowly, unfreezing I crawl onto the bed, but stop when I have reached his side

"Swing one leg over me, darling... Do not be afraid, I shall be gentle. Just like I was last night."

I tremble, suddenly finding myself nervous. But I do as my king instructs and swing my leg over his torso, my aching cunt mere inches from his throbbing cock. I glance down at him and feel the nerves bubbling up to a new level of nervousness and he sees it. He places a hand on my hip before leaning up to kiss me. While our lips move together in perfect sync with one another, he uses his other hand to guide his cock between my soaked folds. He does not put himself inside of me at first. Instead, he gathers up some of my arousal to coat his cock before he dares to slowly insert himself inside of me. When he does this, my lips fall from his, my forehead against his. A moan falls from my lips as I feel him fill me, my ass flush against him once his cock is fully inside of me. This sensation is different from the one I had experienced the night before. He was filling me in a new way and I loved it.

"Marion."

I gasp, my lips moaning against his. At the mention of his name, he rolls his hips, his cock deeper inside of me. Slowly he begins to thrust up into me, my body unsure of what to do for a moment before naturally meeting his thrusts. Our kisses are sloppy and our bodies move together in unison while he fucks me. So deeply and so thoroughly that it almost feels like a dream that existed in only my mind. But it was reality and it felt so good. His hands grasp my breasts firmly but, unlike earlier, I feel the cold metal of his ring. His one ring. I break the kiss and find myself peering down at the golden band.

"Is it heavy? That ring that you wear? The one that rules them all?"

My question sounds silly, but I could never imagine holding so much power upon my finger. Up close it did not appear any different from a common golden band, but I knew that it was more special than I could ever comprehend. Sauron's gaze, still hungry, softens as he looks over every inch of my body in quiet appreciation as if I am a treasure. Without speaking a word he grinds himself against me once more, his cock moving deeper within me, hitting a new bundle of nerves that sends a chill up my spine.

"Would my wife like to try it on? Test its craftmanship for herself?"

I gasp at another roll of his hips. My lips part, a faint mewl falling from me. I would never question the craft of Sauron, Marion, for I knew he was one of the most skilled smiths in all of Middle Earth. I can feel the need to apologize on my lips but he stills that need with the pressing of his lips to mine. A kiss that grounds me and makes me want to soar at the same time. I feel my lips move against his like they were made for me, all-consuming. So much so that I do not feel his hand move his ring of power from his finger to my thumb. When he does this I feel a shift within me. Darkness, unlike anything I have ever known. Around me is a world like our own, but contorted into something else. I should be afraid of it, but I cannot bring myself to feel fear. Instead, I peer around in wonder. Was this a world he had created? Was this what he saw when he wore the ring himself?

"Well, little dove, what do you think? Does it feel heavy to you? Does it terrify you to see the unseen world?"

He rasps the words against my neck as his lips leave mine and descend lower. With one hand on his chest and the ring-clad hand drawing closer to my face as I bring it closer to inspect it I still do not fear the ring.

"It is not heavy and it does not scare me, my dark king. It is beautiful even with its darkness. It is perfect, but how could it be any less when it was you who created it?"

My compliment causes him to still his actions, his lips on my collarbone. Whatever he expected me to say, it was not this. I pull the ring off of me and find our gazes meeting in the light of our world. Gone were the dark shadows of the unseen world. He studies me closely as I lift his hand and slip his ring back onto his finger. My king's silence makes me worry that I have done something wrong. But the moment the thought flickers into my mind he shakes his head in protest. He uses my confusion as to what has made him quiet as an opportunity to flip our position, his cock pulling out of me long enough to pin me beneath him in our bed before pushing back inside of me. I moan at the loss and regaining of him inside of me. His lips push back down onto mine as he thrusts into me with a primal and dominating force that takes my breath away.

"Mine."

He growls in a tone that verges on animalistic. I find myself nodding as I maneuver my hips to meet his thrusts once more. He had said he would take it slow with me, but I liked the fact that he was not treating me as though I was made of glass. I found this part of him undeniable and so unbelievably tantalizing.

"Yours. Only yours my king."

I find myself replying as he stares down at me lost in lust. His eyes were darker and his jaw clenched tightly while thrusting his cock inside of my soaked sex. Every inch of his cock felt as if it was made to be inside of me. And I quietly contemplated how I could have ever known a time without him being so intimately mine. Though he had not said he was mine, I could feel it in the way that he looked at me. As if my wearing of his ring had changed something between the two of us. As if me seeing inside of his world without fear had made his desire for me more raw than it had been before.

"Do not doubt yourself little one, I am yours. Only yours."

I find myself smiling at his words, the response to the worry in my head. I wondered if there would ever be a time when I would tire of him peeking inside of my head, but right now it was nice. It was nice to communicate so closely.

The tip of his cock teases a deeper part of my sex, and it causes a white-hot feeling inside of me. A feeling that causes my bundle of nerves to buckle. I can feel my body nearing the same climax he had elicited from me earlier. At the thought, I can feel his cock straining within me, eager for his own release.

"I am going to cum inside of you. And I want to do it at the same time you come undone."

He makes sure that our gazes are locked together when he says this, leaving no question of whether I heard him or not. I nod, my hands reaching up to take his face in my grasp, my lips meeting his once again. The second our lips touch he thrusts one final time and we both come undone together. He keeps his lips connected with mine as our bodies get lost in their own coming down from the high we had been on. I feel him twitch inside of me one final time before he pulls out and gazes down at me.

"It is not very common for someone to see the unseen world and be unafraid. Much less such a sweet and virtuous little elf."

My cheeks redden at his words, but I cannot explain to him that I was not frightened. Even I could not explain it to myself. By all rights, I should have been terrified. I should have felt the corruption of the one ring other ring bearers had been, but I was unaffected.

Fascinated but unaffected all the same.

"Would you like me to be afraid my king? Is that truly what you want?"

A smirk befalls his lips as he shakes his head in protest for the second time this evening. No, instead lays in our bed beside me staring up at the canopy above us. He is quiet for only a moment before he guides my body to his. My head finds his shoulder and my hand rests on his chest.

"No, what I want is for you to understand that I have a specific way that I am ruling. I cannot have you questioning me in front of my servants again. However, I will grant you the chance to speak with your elven maidens. They shall be permitted to speak in our chamber, your dressing room, and the library. They cannot speak anywhere else."

I peer up at him, my heart skipping a beat as he allows himself to grant me this one wish. A small victory that I would take without question.

"Thank you."

I murmur before lifting my head off of his shoulder to give him a small kiss on the side of his cheek. He rolls his eyes at the action, almost as if he is ashamed that he gave me what I wanted.

"Yes, you are welcome little dove. Now, let us get ready. We have a party to attend after all."

#annatar #annatar x reader #charlie vickers #halbrand smut #halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #trop #halbrand #the rings of power #sauron #rop #sauron x oc #sauron smut #sauron rings of power #sauron trop #rings of power

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infinialtairs · 23 hours ago

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Jade and Pey'j are always ready to fight back! Mess with one of us? You're going to have to mess with both of us! 📸🐗

Sily artwork of them hanging out! but also I have a little surprise for all jade and pey'j fans... I have finished write a full google document for Jade and Pey'j characterizations! along with backstory and trivia for my own version of designs for them ^^ Keep in mind that I'm not a writer and I won't claim as such, I simply wanted to write down my own interpretations and ideas onto them. I'll just copy down ALL 7 PAGE texts onto here so...If you don't want read any of it, feel free to skip

Captain Laserhawk: Jade and Pey’j Rewritten

! Disclaimer !

This takes both Beyond Good and Evil version and Captain Laserhawk version into one somewhat coherent version of them as I’m not a fan of how Jade and Pey’j were treated in the series and I simply just write my own takes on the characters and ideas of more in depth into their characters. You can disagree, or dislike my takes on them and you can also give a suggestion or your own opinion on them. I only seek to approve my skill in writing my thoughts and ideas through words.

Synopsis

Jade and Pey’j - the only remaining part of a family who are striving for a fulfilling life in a dystopian world with many deceptions easily hidden behind closed doors and TV screens. They both managed to live in a garage where Pey’j does the repairs of vehicles and as well as creating his own little projects of inventions of which he never shared them into the public eye, only to Jade.

Jade

Jade is quite a spontaneous journalist, martial artist, cyclist, and a person with so many side hobbies that she sometimes pursues, even if she’s not exactly good at a lot of them. She can be a gal friend at parties or a cry on the shoulder when someone’s in need, she's a little too empathetic at times with how she reacts with others struggles and often feel the need to always be helpful and supportive. Despite all the hobbies she has been trying out, she isn’t the best example of a patient person, she will always try to learn everything in a single day and then getting overwhelmed or frustrated when something doesn’t go her way. As a journalist she often writes articles about covers essentially what the Face of Eden Rayman talks about in his show, but with a Jade’s touch - her own perspectives and opinions. She also covers smaller topics that seem to fall deafen on people’s ears and some conspiracy theories that she may not entirely believe in, but she's a very curious person and fascinated by those out of reach theories.

She’s very close with Pey’j ever since her parents passed away in the Wasteland war when she was a teen, and with how much her parents trusted Pey’j - a boar hybrid against all odds, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in the cruel world of Eden. She often helps Pey’j with the repairs and sometimes even does the work for him whenever Pey’j gets sick or overworked. One thing she always does and loves on a daily basis is taking photos of everything she comes across as interesting, maybe mostly taking funny pictures of Pey’j in his vulnerable state. She wants to keep memories with Pey’j as she regrets never taking any photos of her parents and wishing she could remember her memories with her parents. But as long as she and Pey’j are there for each other, She’s content with the family she currently has as Pey’j adoptive uncle.

Pey’j

Pey’j is opposite of Jade in a lot of ways - he’s stubborn, grumpy and often disrespectful towards strangers. He just gets tense around people who he doesn’t know and especially his promise to Jade's parents to always look out for their daughter, it only made him more overprotective towards Jade. Beneath all of the tough and blunt manner, he’s caring and sympathetic. Pey’j will open up about his personal upcomings as a boar hybrid, his family, his hobbies, and of course bragging of Jade’s talents, he’s also the pure example of terrible but in own charming ways of humor, somewhere between dad jokes and dark comedy. Pey’j has always dreamt about becoming an inventor for Eden, inventing technologies to help those in crisis instead of relying on a government that seeks more of the loyal and control than provide support for the citizens. But alas he has a lot of difficulties and responsibilities to even begin chasing his dream, so he’s sticking with what he has been doing for decades - repairing vehicles and gadgets for cheap prices for good qualities.

Pey’j often cooks meals and gives out supplies to the homeless people as advised by Jade, since she’s always busy and staying up late writing journals and cases and in her own words “You gotta work with your communications too, old fart!”. Pey’j hasn’t all been too interested in relationships or even had a mind crossed about “marriage” and “having his own kids” due to his own fears of not being able to offer enough on the table, Pey’j believes that he has better things to do in his own opinion. Beside doing mechanics and inventing his small projects. Pey’j is also on occasion curious with hobbies, in particular chess has been his favorite pastime, usually he plays it with Jade or sometimes his acquaintances if in a right mood. Pey’j will deny being competitive about chess but each time he loses a game of chess, he will insist for another round until he personally wins! It can take from another 30 minutes to many hours depending on his bad luck.

Backstory

Jade’s parents as any others who were previously citizens of the USA see their country turning into a dystopian country now known as “Eden”, with no longer 50 states but 5 Mega Cities divided. They weren’t thrilled or accepting of the changes, with far advanced technologies and AI intelligence. Despite it all Jade’s parents made sure that their first born child would have a good life in a very new world that they also have to navigate through together. Jade’s parents were working hard in their jobs as one unexpected day coming across a troubling boar man hybrid out in the streets, clearly in some distress Jade’s parents decided to help out the hybrid and upon learning about the boar hybrid name “Pey’j”, they weren’t sure about this so called “Pey’j” with the news uprising about “Hybrids will take care of your pesky workflow and we as Eden community are grateful for that!” but they gave the benefit of a doubt as they were the only family remaining and alone with their daughter Jade. Maybe perhaps they could use some help.

Jade’s parents and Pey’j came along very well, with Pey’j skilled talent of repairing their old equipments around the house and become quite like a uncle figure to little Jade which gave Jade’s parents a relief that they could be a family - a fullfit family that may not seem big or exciting but all it mattered that they weren’t going to leave each others behind. Jade was quite a reckless child for both Pey’j and Jade’s parents, always hyperactive and was more into sports, bugs, and many other interests all at once! But Jade studied pretty alright at minimum in school and even took an extra class of material arts, both her own choice and a skill that Jade’s parents thought Jade would incredibly need in the future. Around the time Jade entered into High school, Jade’s parents had been fired from their original jobs due to some complications and the terms of services that they didn’t agree with. They have hidden that fact from Jade and Pey’j to avoid any unnecessary stress on their family, so with desperate attempts and tired of Eden’s corporate policy, they joined the DedSec organization to protect against corrupted ways of Eden. Jade’s parents both worked as hackers in coding into TV stations over Eden before eventually the event that they all were expecting for… ”The Wasteland War” as Eden militaries sent out missiles and soldiers towards wasteland and so Jade’s parents were rushed to quickly message to Pey’j about the situation and ask for a promise to protect their daughter Jade if they weren’t making it out alive. As the news broke out about the now abandoned Wasteland all across Mega Cities, Pey’j knew that Jade’s parents sadly didn’t make it due to no contact or logs ever since that sudden text and so Pey’j made sure to take care of Jade and support her as much as he can in his garage. Jade knew that they couldn’t afford to attend any college or universities but Jade did lots of freelance commissions on photography specifically before then switching to write journals and articles of niche topics around Eden. Jade and Pey’j were living somewhat sustainable living conditions despite all odds until an unexpected interaction with unidentified individuals in the alley not far from Pey’j garage as they were trying to capture Pey’j and Jade with Pey’j fell first defeated. Jade tried her absolute best to fight back but quickly grew weak and got cornered before getting knocked out cold.

Jade and Pey’j woke up in odd white room with a wrestler trying to break a metal locked door and a cyborg still sleeping out cold on the mattress, with absolute no clue where they were or what to do before eventually a woman walked in or “Warden” as they later found and that they were all being held captured and hidden from outside of the world in Supermaxx, with needing to obey the missions at hand or else their head explodes with discovering they do indeed have bombs inside their heads. Jade and Pey’j along with the others into a group as Warden calls it “The Ghosts”, they knew the stakes they had in a sudden shift of lifestyle but currently Jade and Pey’j will work it as long as they are always sticking by their sides.

Trivia

(This is mainly trivia about my own design version of Jade and Pey’j and doesn't always match up to either Beyond Good and Evil nor Captain Laserhawk versions so keep that in mind.)

The brown jacket that Jade wears is gifted by Pey’j as a first present she ever got from her adoptive uncle. It used to be too big for her before eventually once growing up she’s constantly seen wearing that jacket.

Pey’j red eyes gadgets were invented by himself to read and analyze better as once he got older, his eyes just weren’t as good in eye sight as in his youth.

Jade has two different styles of fingerless gloves. Her left glove is green, more geared up for cycling and her right glove is a simple black thin fingerless glove. She did have at one time both green geared up finger gloves before during once in her practice of learning to ride a bike she lost her right fingerless glove upon falling over and Pey’j gave her a replacement for a simple black fingerless glove.

Pey’j has a right cut off tusk due to one intense gang fight he had along before he met Jade or Jade’s parents. He always loves re-telling that tale and expresses his anger.

Jade and Pey’j have almost shared birthdays. Jade’s birthday is 24th of May and Pey’j - 23rd May. They do an annual special two days of sharing both of their birthdays together and as such both receive presents twice as such and make trips. Their favorite go-to place is carnival.

Jade’s camera is borrowed from one of the commissioner’s job but later was gifted by them and such Pey’j has added features into Jade’s camera to make it one of its kind including ability to zoom in and out almost infinitely, loads of filters built in and one of Jade’s favorite - a stunt that gives anyone within her range a temporary blindness, although comes with limit of usages she can do.

Pey’j’s wrench has been modified and had different looks many times to make the perfect wrench with multi-purpose as ever! Currently his wrench has been modified to weigh slightly heavier than average wrenches to carry a heavy and quick swing. Pey’j’s wrench has even functionality to act as a power source for example to use as a flashlight, to charge up equipment, without a lot of storage of power. He’s still in development for that perk.

Funny story. When Jade was 16, she asked, begged even Pey'j for earrings for “that cool rad look to show off!” Jade’s own quotes. Pey’j reluctantly agreed but he was at first adamant about putting the earrings himself and so he tried to do his first practice to his own ears. It didn’t go well as planned with him having two permanent little holes in his ears and he eventually agreed to let Jade go to the professional. Jade still make jokes about it to these days, not of one Pey’j’s proudest moments.

Jade’s hairstyles had so many iterations before she settled in her now iconic bottom shaved pixie cut. She has only let her hair grow once when she was around 8, Jade's parents weren’t looking carefully and Jade was messing with lighter and managed to burn half of her hair. To say Jade’s parents were mortified and angry would be an understatement. Jade later had to shave her whole hair for six months.

Pey’j boots are actually jet boots that he modified way more recently than his wrench, allowing him to float a few centimeters into the air - before then falling down, but this comes in handy for combat for ground pounding!

If you have read all of this...holy shit that's insane of you and I really appreciate that you took your time about two characters that I just wanted to give more love for them... ^^' Feel free to write your feedback, suggestion, idea or even mistakes if I have made any about it! Like I said before I want to improve on writing down ideas and thoughts into words more coherent and clear in the future.

Thank you for reading once again! 🫶

#art #drawing #illustration #long blog #long ass post #No seriously it's VERY LONG #my interpretation #characterization #character blog #jade #pey'j #captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk jade #captain laserhawk pey'j #I may began loving Jade and Pey'j after this...#feedback is welcome #feedback wanted

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burnnouts · 19 hours ago

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Yennefer was a well of endless desire, a black hole of need and spiraling, pulsating power. She had never felt the way Beck was now describing, as though she was a part of something, as though she were anything more than a parasite, sucking energy from the world around her. The closest she had ever felt to connection was the day the sorceress Tissaia found her and brought her to the magical school of Aretuza. For the very first time, she had experienced some akin to friendship. For the first time in her life, she was surrounded by people like her: those with the same power buzzing beneath their skin, the same relentless ambition, the same disconnect from everyone around them. And yet the friendship came at a cost, with a limit. It was a sisterhood, yes, but like any sisters, they cared for one another just as much as they despised each other, competing endlessly, always determined to be stronger than the others, to stand out, to be the best.

If Yennefer were to be the reincarnation of a spirit, it would not be anything so pure or beautiful as the moon or sun or nature. She would be a spirit of want, a vacuum in space tugging, seeking, sucking in the world around it, intent on making everything it could touch a part of itself. As she listened to Beck speak, she tried to imagine what such a connection might feel like, but she had no reference or experience to which she could compare. Yennefer had a bad habit of running the moment anything felt too comfortable, too familiar, so of course she could not possess anything with such a name. (And that too was a line in the sand between their two very different lives, that the word possess came so quickly to mind; not friend, not ally, not fellow. Yennefer knew only how to take.)

“Perhaps,” she replied. Her expression had folded into the same unreadable mask she so often wore in public. She saw no point arguing with the woman, yet she could not agree. Beck was sweet, kind-hearted. Of course she thought the best of Yennefer too, thought her deeper than she was, thought her power noble. But did the birds not come because her magic forced them to her will? Was she not simply a puppet master borrowing the energy of all life around her?

But the birds live, said a little voice in the back of her mind. In her world, magic always came with a cost. As she drew energy from the world around her, that energy had to come from somewhere. She had been taught with flowers—pull the life from the flower, and convert it into a spell. Sometimes, the best thing a flower can do for us is die, Tissaia would say. But the birds lived. They thrived, even. They appeared, they did her bidding, and they remained intact, cheerful and determined—no wilting feathers or sullen faces.

As she carefully watched Beck’s expression, took in every word, Yennefer thought of the gardens she’d killed, the life she’d sucked from growing vines, the trees she’d sucked dry. Here, sitting before her, was the very essence of nature itself, and she its killer. Yet it happened less and less, her power requiring less energy, taking less and less each time. It had been the same in school. Every sorceress and sorcerer she’d met required an offering, substances to draw from, in order to open a portal. Yennefer needed nothing but the mere thought of her destination.

“How did you know?” she asked. “That you were this spirit?” She had seen many nature spirits, godlings and monsters too, ancient witches of the forest and prophecized saviors and end-bringers. Yet she had heard of nothing like Beck before. “In any case, it seems you were all meant for each other. I am glad they found you.” And if there was the slightest tinge of jealousy behind her words, the reckless, hopeless desire to ever care or be cared for in such a manner, she did not let it show.

“There is a man,” she said suddenly. Her eyes remained on the water, on the curve of the ox’s head and the parting pool beneath his body. “Many years ago, I attempted to capture a Djinn.” A foolish plan. But she had been young and reckless then—and desperate for a child. “I thought that if I could become the vessel for the Djinn, I might control its power. It did not work.” Her plum-painted lips fell into a stiff line as she remembered this failure. “It would have killed me, if this man had not stepped in. He had freed the Djinn and so had three wishes it would grant. For his third, he wished for our lives to be connected. Because the Djinn cannot kill its master, and our fates were now one, it could not kill me either.”

She placed her hands upon her knees and, finally, looked up, meeting Beck’s eyes. “The wording was vague. The wish…obscure. I do not know what it means for my future. We were romantic for a time. We are no longer. Yet, I wonder if my soul is my own or if this wish marks him forever as a part of it.” Geralt was no familiar, and it was clear by her expression that Yennefer was not comfortable with such a bond, could not relate, as Beck had said, like wool that had been felted together. “I tell you this only because I believe you have the right to know. He will not follow us. He is no threat.” He might, in fact, be the best man she’d ever known. “Nor do I wish to find and speak with him before we leave. But he does have an annoying habit of ‘accidentally’ showing up in my life again and again, no matter how far away I get. It seems only right that you should know the truth of it now."

"That sounds like a lonely life." Beck said gently. A whole continent of witches without familiars. Normally she found the ways in which they differed fascinating, but this just sounded sad. Her first familiar had come to her as a young girl of only five years, and only in her darkest hours had she ever been without a familiar since.

"I have two familiars. Both were spirits at one time, who wished so dearly to draw near to me they incarnated into a physical form." Angrboda looked at Beck as she spoke, and blinked slow and languidly. Beneath the rush of water around them, the low, thrumming sound of purring filled the air. Beck leaned forward, and the feline pressed her forehead against her witch to nuzzle her softly. "Boda was much younger than Grani. A wisp of a moon spirit in the body of a little ferocious kitten. She found me as a young woman camping on the rocky shores of lake Isvegin. The sun never fully rises there, and in the darkest night the brilliance of the moon over the quiet water is said to drive the wicked to madness. I stayed there two months in awe of it, and she came to me. I tried to get her to return to the Dream Realm, but she wouldn't have any of it."

There was much more to that story. Perhaps one day she'd tell Yennefer about how she sought out the lake in hopes of healing her fractured spirit. How she swallowed so much rage over the years that the anger had molded itself into a vicious beast inside her own veins and threatened to boil her alive in her own skin. How she walked into the frigid waters in search of relief even if it meant her own death. And how the Moon had seen her across the great expanse---a living breathing incarnation of the Nature Spirit that the Moon so loved---suffering so intently, and could not stand it. She had taken a piece of herself and placed it into a clutch of owl eggs. Beck had found the egg cracked on the ground, but inside it there was no screeching owlet, only a crying kitten. Their bond had been almost instant as she cared for the little kitten, and a few months later, after they had long since left the rocky shores, Angrboda became her familiar. Boda shared in her memories of pain and neglect, and had taken the rage within herself.

It saved her life... but it made Angrboda a temperamental and powerful foe.

"Grani-" Beck motioned to the hawk flying languid circles in the sky above them, watching them on their path, "Came to me a few years before Boda. I was only sixteen? But he was much older. He had long since been capable of thought and magic in the Dream Realm when he came to me. I was wandering the fields near the ranch where I lived as a girl, before my father died. I was---lost, at the time. Not physically but, in my heart, you know? He fell from the sky in a blaze of light, turning from a hawk to a golden stallion." Beck laughed gently. "I don't think I had much of a choice in the matter. He had already chosen me. He's a sun spirit."

Another tragic tale that she'd dipped in gold to hide the dark truth. Another time her life had been saved. Her first familiar, Dawnbreaker, had been a sun spirit as well, and upon her brutal murder she had used the last of her power not to try and free herself, but to pull Grani from the Dream Realm. The death of a familiar is something few witches survive, and Beck certainly wouldn't have without Grani. He had waited two years for her to return to her homeland where he ruled over a massive herd of wild horses. He had left them all to another stallion to join her, and being with him helped stitch together the gaping wound left on her spirit in the wake of Dawnbreaker's death.

"We are all incarnations of different spirits, us three. The Moon, the Sun, and the Nature of this world. And we are all three connected to one another now, so thoroughly woven into each other there is no discerning where I end and they begin. Like wool that's been felted together. But it isn't just this way for me. This is how it is for all witches and their familiars."

Beck perched herself on the side of the boat and reached down. The ox spirit that tugged them along briefly formed its face from the fog and rose up to let her stroke it before dipping down into the water once more. It had settled nicely in the presence of three calm and powerful spirits.

"I wonder if the connection isn't deeper than you think." She said, watching Yennefer pull a living creature through space and time to rest on her finger for barely a breath, before sending it away. And yet the bird had not been alarmed. Beck could feel animals and their spirits, as well as the magic around her, and she hadn't felt any great force of will on Yennefer's part subjecting the animal to her will. There was magic involved, sure, but she couldn't help but wonder if the birds were so varied because only the willing answered the sorceress' call.

"If there is no real relationship, not even a spark of one, why is it always birds? Why do they not resist you?" She almost laughed at the thought. Yennefer wasn't a woman to be resisted. If her beauty was not enough to subdue someone, her will most certainly was. But she felt the question was worth pondering. "Magic is magic, no matter where you are, but the people who practice it cause its form to change shape so drastically. Blood changes that, I'm sure, but I wonder how much is really just a matter of perception?"

She shrugged, watching as Angrboda yawned and slunk off the canvas roof to go back inside the warm interior of the little vessel.

"But then again, what do I know? I was hardly a star pupil in school." Her fingers drummed a little beat on the side of the boat. "Anyway... We should reach the shore in about a week's time if we can keep a steady pace. You really don't have anyone you wish to speak to? I don't know when you'll be able to return."

#yennefer:threads #maggicktouched #[queue] shine bright til we're burned

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mischievous-thunder · 1 month ago

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After that Wade always makes sure that his princess eats proper food

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whollyjoly · 1 year ago

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in those heavy days in june, when love became an act of defiance

song - june by florence + the machine

special thanks to @xxluckystrike for getting me back into f+tm and to @panzershrike-pretz @ronald-speirs for giving me feedback/hearing my rambling brain thoughts as i made this!

#this song actually kills me for them #bonus lyrics include: “hold on to each other” and “im always down to hide with you”#fucking kills me #i love them your honor #winnix #otp: we'll go to chicago i'll take you there #(bonus chicago reference in the song lyrics!!)#dick winters #lewis nixon #so at first with this song i was thinking of doing it from lew's pov to dick but #that last image with the “i can see an angel” of dick looking up at nix came to me in a dream #and i knew i had to do it the other way #there's also something so precious and pure about the love and care and devotion dick has for nix okay #anyways it felt right and sparked joy #band of brothers #bofb #hbowar #em's edits

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secondpersonpoetry · 3 months ago

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you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one!

oh. oh.

#don’t think i’ve read this kim addonizio poem and it just blindsided me like a truck thank you so much #i. oh god. like yeah.#pour me shitfaced into your car i feel like you own a comforter extremely dysfunctional only in surface details like which person was the #black hole and the distant spark in space that might’ve been a star there’s something too with unrelenting mist / many-headed mist / missed #who knew mis(t)/sed had undone so many. while you keep an eye on the burner here’s hoping this flame doesn’t go out #the flame as in the spark as in don’t let me have pinned my hopes on you to watch it burn out again but also me. like please let me not go #and i think there’s something there too with the repetitive ‘i have just met you’ and i already love you that reminds me both of a story #colman domingo told abt meeting his partner i cry everytime i hear it right when he says ‘i think i love u &you’re about to change my life’#and i KNOW there’s another poem. and i feel like it maybe has a dog and it talks about how they don’t even know you but they love you #OH IT’S ALSO. OH MY GOD THAT’S IT. i mean not exactly so maybe i have read this before & it’s what has been haunting me for so long but #the opening line to tim seibles naïve is ‘i love you but i don’t know you’ - mennonite woman #the odds of that dog poem being a carl phillips poem is non-zero btw. his poems about dogs make me see shrimp colors (bertuzzi thesis)#ANYWAY. agreed. this is incredibly hockey and incredibly hurtful because they DO bond like this in 0.0001 seconds because if you can’t #you’re fucked. you have to just find somebody and fall in love with them and it’s the salmon and the triple cream brie like they got taken #out to some fancy meet the donors team night in their suits and one of them is dealing with a heartbreak and a trade and are the things #they think true or are they just missing what the used to have. jamie who used to empty and refill the ice tray YES sorry i have been a #little bit thinking that about the trevor dealing so poorly with the breakup and i wish i had another narrative (which i do) but it fits #trade deadline tragedy #and also the formation of a codependent rookies like. two guys that get drafted and brought up together and suddenly they’re doing #everything together and it’s your first time in the big show and none of your old college friends understand because they’re not there #and you can’t get it. like you think you know but they can’t understand and the loneliness and it IS guys taking care of each other #(alexa play harriet by hey rosetta! but specifically the bridge) and it’s just. i just!!! trying to fill up the missing pieces of your life #like i cannot convey WHOMST i am trying to pin this narrative to this is going to rotate for a long while i think #because it’s not a wild i fell in love with you at first sight it’s a you were kind to me when i was broken. and i love you for that.#like who is FALLING APART &happens to fall into someone else’s arms. purely for the partygirl aspect the devil (old hrpf) says ‘13 bennguin #who among us hasn’t fallen mildly briefly brilliantly in love with a stranger and imagined a future where you get everything you want #sometimes we love people for who they are and sometimes we love them for what we’re not and sometimes for who we think they’ll be #this was a very long way to say thank you for sharing <3 i will also be making this about my hockey guys <3 #OH MY GOD IT’S DPAIRS. WHO’S BEEN THROUGH SEVERAL DPAIRS #nonny <3

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nezuscribe · 2 months ago

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you try not to get jealous. it does you no good. but sometimes you get a little miffed when it comes to how women treat your husband, arranged!gojo.

you see how the women giggle at him, how they bite their lips whenever he walks by. you see them giggle to each other, the way they try to catch his attention.

and though most ladies of the high society act this way, some of the servants around the estate, the women of the town, and others behave like this too.

they act as if he’s not married, as if that ring on his hand is purely for decoration. and sure, maybe a couple months ago it was for show but now things have changed and you don’t appreciate those ladies all that much.

and gojo notices.

he knows you’re getting better at talking to him about what ails you, but he also knows that it’s a a lot to get used to at once. he sees the way you tense up at their whispers, the glares you throw their way when you hear his name in their conversation. he understands because he’s the same as you, his feelings mirroring yours.

so he decides to comfort your worries a bit indirectly.

“what…” you whip your head around as gojo stops at a random spot in one of the hallways, taking you away from your tea time with shoko as he fails to give any explanation for his hurried responses, “what are you doing? you have that meeting with your counsel and-”

“missed you,” is all he’s able to say as he slams his lips onto yours, earning a surprised yelp in response.

your back hits against the stone wall, one of his hands against your head to protect it from bumping back as your gasp in surprise, letting him slide his tongue in your mouth as he sloppily kisses your lips.

“satoru, w-wait,” you try to stop yourself from whining out loud, your fingers cuing into his artic strands as his hands move down to hold your waist, “it’s daytime, p-people, people can come…” you can’t speak anymore because he doesn’t let you, lips slotting against each others as your eyes screw shut, heartbeat in your throat as he hands squeeze as your skin.

“i missed you,” he just repeats, nipping slightly at your bottom lip as you mewl, feeling his lips trail down your chin to your throat as you tilt you head upwards to give him a better angle.

you almost want to laugh because it’s only been hours since you’ve seen each other, but for gojo it feels like days since he’s seen you.

you peek slightly too look at him, see the way his lips attack your skin, sucking and biting, surely leaving marks as he makes his way down. you love the way his hair is slightly wavy, most likely from his bath after sparring.

you’re almost too intoxicated from his feverish kisses to notice the sounds of incoming footsteps, but the loud overbearing giggles is what pulls you back to reality.

you tense up, scrambling to push him away from you but he won’t budge. if anything, he seems to be motivated, moving back up to your lips to steal your words away.

“t-there’s people coming!” you try to warn him but he doesn’t seem to care, his blue eyes gleaming with a different look as your whine from one of his hands moving upwards to your chest, giving one of your breasts a light squeeze.

“so?” he murmurs, lips hovering against the corners of yours as his brow cocks upwards.

you go to say something else but he tilts your chin upwards to meet him, one hand balancing on the wall behind you, one on your hip, his hair messy from your fingers gripping at him.

you don’t feel like moving, too drunk off of him to even notice the ladies as they round the corner, not looking their way as you hear their squeals of shock, the way they try to hurriedly leave.

you glance slightly to the right as gojo moves back down to your neck to get a look at them, your fingers still tangled in his hair, one hand draped over his neck, squinting slightly as you remember their faces from last week, when you overheard them talking about your husband.

there’s a slight tilt in your lips as you hear their scrambled apologies, the way they try to leave as fast as they can. you try not to gloat too much in their looks of envy and jealousy.

and if you focused just enough, you could feel the smile on his lips.

“you missed me?” you ask a little breathless, a coy tilt to your voice.

“so much,” he mumbles as he glances up at you from his white lashes, his pupils blown wide, lips messy with spit, red and swollen as he presses a slopping kiss to the slight skin showing of your chest.

“you’re so immature,” you chide, trying to look away, the hide the bashfulness in your face but his hand cups your jaw, pulling your face back down to see his.

“they had to see for themselves,” he tells you, his voice wavering on something darker, “had to see who the only lady gojo is.”

and you smile, eyes a little hazy as your fingers slightly tug on his soft strands, reveling in the way his eyes roll back and his lips find their way back up to yours.

yeah jealousy wasn’t the best. but thank the gods your husband was just as petty as you.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #satoru x reader #arranged!gojo

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shomatoriashi · 19 days ago

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01/03/25; 10:00pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they realize that you’re the true mc from behind the screen ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes: this is just my own take on the self aware au! i know other creators who’ve written their own self aware au’s (and have executed them amazingly well!), but i hope that you readers will give my story a chance, too ♡

you never understood the hype that surrounded the game known as love and deepspace-

however, the moment sylus was announced as the newest love interest for this game-

to say you were mildly interested would have been the greatest understatement of the century. when his trailer was revealed, you swore you felt your knees clash together while basking in his pure, masculine beauty.

and his voice- dear god did it sound like pure silk against your ears!

needless to say, you downloaded lads the moment sylus dropped as the latest love interest. when you made your mc, you did your best to model her after your own appearance to the best of your abilities-

however, it seemed impossible to do.

the mc was just too petite and perfect, something that you could never achieve in real life. yet despite it all, you tried your best to customize her to match your features before starting the game. as you struggled with the missions in the main story, you were essentially grinding until the moment you could unlock sylus's story branch-

and the moment when you accomplished it, you were truly on cloud 9, taking an ungodly amount of screenshots each time sylus was on your phone's screen. you kept interacting with him in game, raising his affinity with you to level 50 in a mere few weeks.

it was embarrassing how much you adored this gorgeous man made up entirely of pixels. you always spent quality time with him, bringing him with you when you worked or had to study for an upcoming exam. each time you would glance at your phone and see his devastatingly handsome features cleaning his gun, you would grin and press a kiss on your screen (directly over his cheek!)

were you shameless for feeling so deeply about a fictional man-

absolutely yes. but did you care?

no.

after kissing sylus for what had to be the thousandth time that day, you would go back to your responsibilities, unaware that sylus could hear you and feel the sensation of your kisses against his cheek.

at first, it was maddening for sylus to realize that everything he's been through was made up by some writers at a company. every tragedy was forced upon him for the sake of a good story-

and he hated it.

he hated how his every word was essentially a script made up by that same company and how he was forced to interact with an mc that was just the same as the rest-

yet the moment he realized he could see you settled behind that woman's avatar-

sylus was intrigued, to say the least.

despite how you looked drastically different from the mc, something about you drew him to you more than the mc ever could. for starters, you were a true, living person who had a personality.

and you just seemed so alive each time sylus saw you. the more time he had spent with you, the more his feelings of curiosity turned into something tangible and real-

making sylus yearn for the day you would recognize him noticing you. he stops cleaning his gun just then, simply keeping his crimson gaze on your form as you wrote in your notebook. the hours continue to pass, yet sylus allows the quality time feature to go on even past the 30 minute mark, not stopping until you were done.

as your eyes go back to your phone, you were ready to quit the session when sylus purposely stops you, "no kiss this time? you wound me, little dove."

he basks in your wide eyed expression and the way your mouth was wide open in a gape, chuckling as you waved your hand over the screen-

and sylus was following your every movement.

"you can see me?"

"i think we've made that abundantly clear just now, little dove." he shakes his head, feeling his world tilt slightly when you pick up your phone.

"y-you just spoke to me, and i- i'm your little dove?" a dreamy expression crosses your features as you kept your gaze on sylus. he gives you a rare, tiny smile while reaffirming his nickname for you with a nod, "of course you are. you have always been my little dove since the moment i laid eyes on you."

a cute sound escapes from your parted lips, and he felt himself being jostled around when you began to spin while holding your phone. with his eyebrows lifted in response, he calls out your name while telling you, "you don't seem to be as panicked as i imagined."

"are you kidding me? i-" you cough and give him a sheepish expression, "i actually love you so much, and despite the weirdness of this all, i'm strangely happy."

your words succeed in making sylus feel warm inside-

and he knew he had to find a way to be with you soon.

zayne has always been aware of your existence, since you were a longtime player of his game and have spent most of your time together with him.

strangely enough, he took pride in having the highest affinity with you-

yet when you obtained any of the other love interest's memories, or spent some time with them-

a wave of jealousy would course through zayne's veins. he knew that he was programmed to always feel happy with whatever man you chose-

but he couldn't bring himself to let you go. after all, zayne knew that he loved you the most out of all of them.

he was the one who held your health and wellbeing above all else (even ignoring his own desires to see you during his quality time sessions with you.)

while working on his laptop at the cafe, he was aware of how late it was and was hoping that you were already safe and sound in bed-

so imagine his surprise when he sees you logging into the game, greeting him with a tired smile on your face as you opened up the quality time menu with him.

"hey zaynie, i know it's late, but i need to get these assignments done just to stay ahead. i couldn't find the time to do them earlier, so that's why i'm here."

admittedly, zayne could feel a shiver of pleasure each time you spoke to him, allowing him to bask in the sound of your voice-

yet more so than that was how concerned he was that you wanted to do your assignments at such an ungodly hour. as you pressed on the quality time session, zayne would immediately cancel it. confusion was etched onto your features, making you try again-

only to have zayne cancel the session once more.

"what the hell is going on?"

unable to hide the fact that he could respond to you (and not wishing to ignore you any longer) zayne takes a chance and speaks to you.

"it's too late for you to be studying. you should be in bed, ready to sleep."

your eyebrows furrow in response to his words, uncertain if this was part of his script (it wasn't). unable to stop, zayne continues to lightly scold you, "humans need at least 8 hours of sleep, and i know that you've barely gotten 5 hours the past few days."

"oh my god, what?!" he watches as you pick up your phone, meeting his gaze as an incredulous expression was seen on your face. "zaynie, are you talking to me?"

zayne was conflicted now, pulling at the collar of his shirt before clearing his throat, wanting to be honest with you, "yes... i am talking to you, and if you cared for me and my feelings at all, you would go to bed and work on your assignments in the morning, once you're fully rested."

it takes you a moment to take this all in.

from zayne meeting your gaze and scolding you because he was concerned about your health-

it honestly felt like such a dream come true.

your features end up breaking out into a kind smile, and zayne could feel a blush creeping up against his cheek when you nuzzle your face closer to your phone, "okay zaynie, i'll go to sleep."

cradling the phone close to your chest, you let out a hum while slowly getting into bed. once you were settled in bed, you held up your phone to see zayne looking back at you. he smiles at you, "good girl, now close your eyes and sleep."

he watches as you purse your lips before asking him, "will you stay with me, zayne?"

smiling at your request, he gives you a nod, "of course. i'm not going anywhere." he watches you once more as you cuddle into your comforter, closing your eyes while setting your phone close to you.

and as your breathing evens out, (turning softer), zayne whispers your name, filled with longing and love for you alone.

you had to be experiencing the worst cold of your life as you were settled in bed with your phone in hand, playing love and deepspace as you did some missions with xavier, your true love interest for the game.

in the middle of your battle, you let out a particularly loud sneeze, wiping the snot away from your nose while blowing into a tissue when a tiny voice was heard saying "bless you."

after blowing your nose, you said 'thank you' in response-

only to do a double take.

who just said bless you?

you take a quick scan around your room, coughing here and there-

only to realize that there was no one in sight.

you hear the voice again, this time saying your name as you realized that it sounded familiar to you. looking back at your phone, you saw xavier had already taken out the enemy and was looking directly at you.

you swallow thickly, your voice shaky when you began to speak,

"xavier?"

"yes."

"you can hear me?"

"i was able to hear you since day 1, and you chose to stick with me." xavier was practically grinning now, appearing smug while folding his arms across his chest.

by now, you were feeling dizzy as you slowly sit up in bed, feeling almost feverish while looking into xavier's gorgeous, true blue eyes. xavier has been aware of your presence this whole time-

and that fact was enough to make a surge of warmth course through you.

"you... you have always been able to see me?" you ask xavier in a shy voice, earning an earnest nod from him, "yes, and..." he trails off while pressing a hand against your screen, "i'm sorry that i'm unable to take care of you when you're feeling so sick."

"n-no! don't worry about it... i'm just happy that you're here... with me."

a sweet smile paints xavier's expression, coupled along with a gentle chuckle. "i'm happy to be with you, too. and i'm happy that you chose me over them."

realizing what xavier meant, you gave him the best smile you could manage while wiping at your nose with a new tissue, "i will always choose you, xavi."

hearing your admission causes a surge of possessiveness to course through xavier's veins. and while you smiled back at him, the philos prince was thinking of ways to forever keep your smiles for himself.

feeling the need to clean your house and do some chores around it, you decide to spend some quality time with rafayel, the hot lemurian you fell in love with ever since you began playing love and deepspace. with his pretty, pouty face on your screen, you began cleaning, moving around your kitchen and living room while wiping down each surface you could see.

you spent a few hours cleaning, with rafayel seeming to sketch during his quality time session with you, which felt odd. usually, after 30 minutes, the game would notify you, asking if you'd like to continue the session as you confirmed it-

yet now, that didn't seem to happen.

you saw no notification-

and rafayel was still sketching on your screen.

with a shrug, you figured the game probably updated and added this new feature, where you didn't have to constantly renew the 30 minutes during your quality time with rafayel. feeling thirsty now, you pick up your phone and head into the kitchen, setting your phone on the counter as you went into the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

"hey princess! where did you go?! i can't see you!"

you nearly dropped your water bottle in response, hearing rafayel's voice coming from your phone. "come on princess, don't leave me hanging, where are you?"

was this a new script?

closing your fridge, you step closer to your phone, seeing rafayel's pout. picking it up, allowing rafayel to finally see you, he was smiling now while winking at you. "there you are, princess! are you done doing all that work?"

words were unable to form as you were left gaping at him, making the artist chuckle while shaking his head, "you look like a goldfish, which is pretty cute! oh, before i forget!"

rafayel pulls back, revealing his sketchbook to you. your heart was felt clenching slightly before racing upon realizing every sketch was about you-

not your mc in game.

the realization of it all had you reeling, with your hands gripping at your counter when you addressed rafayel. "rafe, you can see me?"

"of course i can, always have been able to, princess." he has the audacity to make your heart flutter the moment he gives you another wink. "and let me just say, i've been loving what i've been seeing so far, princess."

by now, you felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, unable to hide your grin as you cling to your phone all while basking in rafayel's flirty and playful words-

yet little did you know, somewhere along the way, rafayel had genuinely fallen head over heels for you, keeping each painting and sculpture he had made of you hidden so that you would never know-

at least, not yet.

end notes: i'm so happy to write a story like this, where all the lads men truly are so META and wish to be with YOU-

and not the mc (⺣◡⺣)♡

this is currently unedited, but i shall make any changes the moment this story is posted!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus fluff #zayne fluff #xavier fluff #rafayel fluff #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace

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bbokicidal · 25 days ago

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"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [I.N]

Everyone decides to take a guess what Jeongin's girlfriend's favorite thing to do in the bedroom is - and almost everyone gets it wrong.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Jeongin x Fem!Reader Warnings: SPIT, lots of spit, PinV (wrap it before you tap it), tummy bulge/size kink, manhandling, bondage/hands being bound together, pussy spanking, spanking in general

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- This is the last installment of this series !! It's finally coming to an end.~

Word Count: 2.2K

"Why does Hyunjin get to go first?" "Because he's already between her legs, I guess."

"Would you two shut up? This is all for educational purposes. You need to watch and learn; Because I'm about to prove to you that I know what her biggest kink is." Hyunjin's head whips to face the two that bicker about him, Jisung stepping back and Felix letting his arms cross over his chest. "Ayen-ah's let on before that she really likes this one." His thumb finds your clit, flicking over the bundle of nerves and you finally give him a soft reaction to work with, your eyes slipping shut and hands curling against your chest in awe.

Felix lets out a heavy breath that ends in a soft whine, his head tipping to the side to get a better look at where his Hyung's cock begins to prod at your folds - and Felix can't help but stare as he slowly sinks into your warmth, wishing it were himself instead. "That's not fair.."

"So what exactly is the kink here...? Or is this just one big excuse to fuck your friend's girlfriend?" Chris quips off to Hyunjin's right, peering almost just over his shoulder to watch as the younger's cock sinks further into you. ".. Going in raw?" He questions shortly after, realizing Hyunjin hadn't slipped a condom on before pushing into you.

And Hyunjin sighs, tongue prodding at the corner of his mouth as he listens to the others continue to bicker about him just wanting to have sex with you.

But then Jisung sees it.

The way your skin tightens; The way your stomach bulges each time Hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward. The way your head tips back as he leans down over you and whispers for you to feel it, guiding one of your hands away from your chest to instead press down on the very place his cock prods and rocks against. "..Bulging..." He whispers, lips parted in surprise at the sight in front of them.

"That's.. a pretty close second." Jeongin hums. He sits back against the headboard as he watches his Hyung rock into you slowly; He was lucky he got to fuck you at all - with Jeongin's permission of course - so he was going to do it with the utmost care. "But that's definitely not top spot."

Jisung practically barks from where he stands behind Hyunjin, reaching to tug on his shoulder. "I knew that wasn't going to be it-! Move, it's my turn." And to many of their surprise, the artist lets himself be pulled away from your sweetness.

Just as expected, Jisung moves forward instead to test his theory. If he could get this right with his one guess he would win the bet. And the prize... God, he's never imagined something so wonderful in his entire life. One hand drops to lay on your thigh while the other reaches to undo his belt - and he watches your eyes widen in surprise at his bold move, thinking he'd won already. Your lips pop apart and you're sure you're about to drool at the way his fingers curl around the buckle and rip it wide open, his belt dragging through the loops of his jeans in such a quick and slick manner that you're sure this is a practiced move. With your reaction he was sure he just ended the bet.

Jeongin almost moves to ask Jisung what he's going to do with that belt, hoping there's no impact about to be made with the accessory - but he simply sits up and stays quiet as he watches Jisung wrap the thick, heavy leather around your wrists to keep them snug together. Your soft gasp of anticipation feeds into Jisung's delusion that he was winning the bet, letting him pin your arms down above your head before he leans in to smile right in your face. "You like bondage, don't you, angel?"

And your smile grows, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you nod. "I do; I really, really do. But..." Jisung's heart sinks as you giggle. "It's not my favorite."

"Hah!" Changbin's laugh basically spews from his lips in a visual syllable, his arms previously crossed over his chest now gesturing to Jisung to skidaddle. "Go. She said you lost the bet so get off 'er and let someone else have a turn." His lips pull into a soft smirk, parted and exposing the way his tongue pokes between his teeth like he has ideas of his own to try out.

But someone else is just a tad quicker with wanting to win the bet. As soon as Jisung moves off of the bed in front of you to go sit beside Jeongin in defeat, Minho is right there to take his place; Only he doesn't crawl onto the bed to get to you and instead stands at the edge of it, feeling as though he looms over your still-bound body displayed for them so openly atop the sheets.

Your wrists stay above your head as you crane your neck to look at the man standing so close yet so far, only to have your head bounce back against the mattress from the force of Minho's hand locking around your right ankle tight enough you're sure it might bruise. He wastes no time in dragging you to where he stands so he's properly positioned between your legs, his eyes dark as they drag over every curve that comes to him so swiftly. And no one in the room can ignore the way you yelp at the feeling of being manhandled.

Calloused palms and rough fingertips run up the outer expanse of your thighs, coming nowhere near close to your warmth as they wander higher. He grips at your hips and gives them a teasing squeeze, feeling the way your skin presses between his fingers; So soft, so tempting. With careful but fairly stiff and rough movements, the muscle in his biceps tightens and flexes as he flips you from your back to your front - your face down and ass up for him. A position most would expect when it came to the resident ass-lover of the group. "There we go."

And with the way you moan the moment your face hits the sheets everyone in the room can almost guarantee Minho had won the bet fair and square. That was until your head slowly lifted from where it pressed against the mattress, breathing heavy with eyes dragging up towards your boyfriend where he sat now in front of you - smirking and letting his arms slowly cross over his chest. "You gonna tell them, baby, or do I have to?"

"There's no way that wasn't it." But Seungmin steps forward to test his luck anyway. Even if Minho won the bet just now, he wanted to get his own needs met, his palm smacking down hard on the bare skin of your asscheeks twice before he brought his hand lower and let it meet the wetness of your folds. That gets you to jolt, a sharp gasp escaping swollen lips.

The way you whimpered against the satin of your sheets almost made Seungmin think he was right about his guess, but the glance and small shake of Jeongin's head seemed to secure the realization that he was wrong, too. Seungmin sighs out and brings his hand down harder than before, making you flinch and moan loud - just for him, considering he'd been spanking you for his own satisfaction at that point. May as well let him know you appreciated it while it happened - and that you were open to it in the future, too, of course.

"I'm starting to think we're never going to guess it," Chris murmurs from where he stands near Changbin, leaning against the wall just to watch as everyone took guess after guess. "Maybe we should start going for softer kinks? Stuff that's less harsh...?"

Changbin shakes his head almost immediately. "She seems like the type who would like impact play or something, though. Do we need to go for something more extreme..?"

"What if it's got something to do with toys?" Jisung quips quietly, seated on the edge of the bed and fighting hard not to beg for another chance at winning the bet.

While the producers babbled on to each other about where to go from their current point, Felix stepped forward from where he'd been observing the entire time the others tried to figure out what it was you liked. You'd reacted well to everything they'd done so far; Hyunjin's size, Jisung's restraining, Minho's manhandling, and then Seungmin's spanking. There was no way in Hell you didn't enjoy the more hard-hitting kinks and the like - so he was going to take his chance while the others whined to each other about losing the bet. Besides, they were working against each other - not with.

"Move." Felix hums, gently nudging Minho aside. The older of the two surprisingly complies with ease and steps aside to watch Felix with close eyes, his hands settling on your ass before rubbing down to your hips. There's no hold, no grabbing - no slapping, spanking, bruising or restraining. No, Felix's hands are gentle as they rub over your skin, smoothing down the swell of your ass before giving a teasing squeeze and trailing lower. He settles his hands along your thighs before using his thumbs to spread your pussy open just for him to see - and for Minho to get a glance at.

Chris tips his head as he watches, eyes drawn away from Jisung and Changbin when Felix had stepped forward to take a shot at the prize. "Felix, wait. We should figure out what --"

But then he stops, lips popping apart in pure surprise at the utter filthiness of the younger man placed behind you.

Just as you lift your head to peek up in slight confusion at their constant rambling - and the feeling of someone's hands on you from behind who definitely was not Minho - Felix spits on your pussy.

It splatters on the pink of your skin, mixing with the slick that seems to gush from your aching, empty hole - and Felix watches as you clench around nothing in desperation. Yeah, he'd just won the bet.

"Shit," falls from Hyunjin's lips before he can help it, staring down the brunet who he wasn't aware until now was quite so.. dirty. His eyes dart from Felix over to where you lay, your reaction giving everything away; The way you bury your face down in the sheets as a strangled and shy moan rips from your throat; The way your cheeks burn a crimson hue none of them had seen all night. Even your ears tint pink in embarrassment that your dirty little secret had been revealed.

Jeongin, finally sitting forward and reaching to cup your cheeks in one of his hands, tips your head to face him so you can't quite hide away from them no matter how much you want to. "Look at me," he demands, voice soft but firm with instruction. "Open." And the others watch as you obey so sweetly for your boyfriend, lips falling apart and jaw completely slack so he can spit right onto your tongue - your mouth closing so you can swallow it before whimpering out in need of more.

And Felix - well, he's in Heaven. He'd took his shot and won the bet, belt everyone else out of the water no matter how hard they tried to figure you out - and he'd done it just by standing back and watching. His chest swells with pride and excitement at the knowledge that now, he got to receive his prize; That being you for at long as he wanted - or as long as he could last, he supposed. There was no way he was giving you back up to Jeongin before he was milked dry. And what kind of a friend would he be if he didn't pump you full before he returned you to your rightful owner?

"Get out." His voice is low in his chest, demanding everyone else leave so he could have his time with you. He needed it more than anything at the moment - you two shared the exact same kink and he was sure now he'd put that knowledge to good use, maybe even treat you so well with it that you wouldn't want to go crawling back to your boyfriend. But more importantly, you needed it, too, what with the way you were still clenching around nothing and just begging for him to spit on your pretty pussy again.

As the others file out the bedroom door, Jeongin chuckles low in his throat and leans forward to give you a quick kiss before he departs. His thumb slides over your cheek, gentle and soft - soothing before the heated, lust-filled ache that was bound to come in the following hours. His lips were like Heaven - like home - as they pressed against yours in a promise that once Felix was done with you - done with his reward for winning the bet and getting to use you like a toy for as long as he wanted - he would return and greet you with a warm embrace to give you as much care as you needed. Not that he doubted Felix would treat you well. Jeongin took a moment to peek down at where your wrists were still bound together with Jisung's belt, moving a hand down to hook a finger around the leather to give a gentle tug. He smiled against your lips, thumb tugging at the lower as he slowly pulled away to whisper,

"I'm going to leave this here. Good luck, baby."

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@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

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#skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #Jeongin x reader #yang jeongin imagine #skz poly imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #IN x reader #in smut #Kpop x reader #Kpop smut

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ghostsprincess · 3 months ago

Text

I can't stop thinking about how much you would miss Simon while he's gone....

This is a continuation of part one and part two.

warning: adult language

💀

You were dreading going to work. Your arms felt heavy as you applied your makeup with a pout on your lips. No matter how hard you worked at it, your eyeliner looked a little smudged and your lipgloss was dull.

Simon was leaving tonight.

He'd never been inside your apartment. He'd never seen you in anything but your work clothes. He only interacted with you on nights when you had a shift at the pub. But you thought about him so much, it was like he had seeped into every aspect of your life. But he was leaving, and you knew he wouldn't give you any details. But it had to be for work. A new military assignment. All you knew for sure was the gnawing feeling in your gut that he would be risking his life.

Most of your shift has passed before he squeezed his shoulders through the doorway and found a stool at the bar. There was a smile plastered on your face all night, but it wasn't until you saw him that it was genuine.

"Simon," you sighed, already reaching for a pint glass to keep your fingers busy when pure happiness bubbled up inside you.

"Hi, love."

Everytime he called you that, his soft eyes lingered on your face. You didn't know when anyone would look at you that way again. His drink was set down, and his money was pushed away. You wouldn't take it. He drank his pint slowly, glaring at any other man whose gaze lingered your way for more than the barest few seconds. Than you let him know it was time for your shift to end.

Tonight both of you were silent. When you reached for his hand, he wrapped his fingers gently around yours. When you stood on your front step, shivering in the damp night air, he wrapped you up in his grasp.

"Ya' be good, love. Take care of yourself." His voice was so deep and warm, you shivered even more. "Tell Soap if ya' need something. He knows to take care of ya'."

There were so many questions brimming in your mind, but they were all silenced when his lips skimmed along your temple. You whimpered before Simon put a foot of space between your bodies, an intensity in his eyes you'd never seen before. Maybe he already knew what he meant to you by this point, but you couldn't say the words as tears stung your eyes.

"Please stay safe," you whispered, and he nodded toward your door.

"Get inside, love. I won't be gone long."

But he was.

At first, you smiled when Soap or Gaz showed up at the bar at the end of your shifts. They weren't anywhere near as imposing looking as Simon, but you knew your ex boyfriend wouldn't be lining up to mess with either of them. They seemed to rotate who walked you home. Conversation was easy with both of them, and they never touched you. When you asked them about Simon, they assured you he knew how to handle himself.

But one week turned into two and then three. You were starting to worry. "Have you heard anything from Simon?" you asked Soap one particularly cold night.

"Nah. He'll be back when he gets back. Try not to worry too much."

You paused before you asked him, "What did he say when he asked you and Gaz to make sure I got home safely from work?"

Soap's face split into a grin in the glow from a streetlight. "Hey, now that's between friends, ain't it?"

You weren't exactly sure what he meant, but you could feel your brow pucker with concern. "You really think he's okay?"

Soap laughed heartily. "That feckin' arsehole ain't gonna to miss the chance to keep walking you home from work. Trust in that much."

You nodded and unlocked your door, bidding him a good night before closing and locking it as tears burned your eyes.

Next thing you knew, Simon had been gone for six weeks. It was hard to keep up the chitchat with Gaz and Soap when each time you saw them, it was a reminder of who was missing. What if he never returned? Who would even inform you if something happened to him? Were you supposed to fret like this and curl into a tight ball alone as you fell asleep for weeks longer?

You daydreamed about what it would feel like to kiss Simon. You imagined his warmth snug against you in bed, heavy arm wrapped around your body. You thought about his voice, rough but sweet, telling you that he felt the same way you did.

But two months was a long time to go without his meticulous attention. And while it made you ache to see him again, perhaps it was having the opposite effect on him. Maybe he hasn't thought about you much, if at all. He was probably busy working around the clock, dedicated to the task at hand. His mind wouldn't be on the silly bartender back home who could barely handle herself around him.

It was hard to smile at work tonight. It wasn't very busy now that winter had fully arrived. Everyone seemed to prefer to huddle up at home this late when the wind was blowing. You'd prefer to be there right now too, instead of pouring a double whiskey and a glass of wine.

You were getting really close to the end of your shift, and there was still no sign of Soap or Gaz. Occasionally they arrived just in time to walk you home, but usually they got here early enough to plop down on a stool for a drink or two. You were longing for your bed, and the idea of having to hang out and wait for the escort you probably no longer needed felt daunting.

Your hands were tired from polishing the glassware, stacking it up below the bar top to help you pass the time. When the door opened, the brief rush of cold air made you shiver as you turned to greet the newcomer. But he was familiar in a way that made a smile break out on your face as a shot glass landed a little hard on the shelf when it slipped from your fingers.

"Hi, love."

He was back. He looked terrible. Bruised cheeks and a black eye decorated his face, but seeing him in person was still better than your best daydream. All you wanted to do was touch him.

"Simon!"You rushed through the opening in the bar, launching yourself into his arms. "I missed you." Without thinking, you ran your hands gently along his face. Without another word, you pressed your lips against his.

💀

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost imagine #call of duty #ghost riley #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghostsprincess

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eufezco · 3 months ago

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LOGAN AS A GIRL DAD°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

just pure fluff with pregnant!reader and logan <3

BEFORE PREGNANCY

being a dad at his age was something logan never imagined. starting a family seemed so out of reach, after everything he’d lived, he never thought that dad was a title he deserved. but then laura came into your life, and it was hard for him because you were a natural, effortlessly knowing how to care for her.

bit by bit, he began to follow your lead, picking up your habit of checking on her before bed and tucking her in, keeping an eye on her plate and making sure she finished her veggie, checking on her when she played outside and even sitting through her favorite cartoons.

and as you watched him, you’d catch yourself wondering what it would be like to bring another little life into this family you were building. the idea of getting pregnant crossed your mind more than once, and you could see it flicker in his eyes too, like an unspoken thought that made its way between you.

—you ever thought of having kids? —he asked, quiet but serious.

you took a few seconds to think about his question. not that you needed them, you'd always wanted to have his kids, and having laura had changed things, deepened the bond between you and logan, and brought your maternal instinct back. she wasn’t your biological child, but in every other way, she was yours.

the thought of bringing up the idea of getting pregnant to logan felt selfish, especially when you knew how much he had already given and how tired he was, you knew that, so you kept your hopes to yourself, not wanting to ask for more than the peace you had found with him and laura.

—we have laura —. you answered.

—yeah, we do. but… that’s not what i’m talking about.

there was a few seconds of silence while he waited for your answer.

—yes, i've thought about it but—

—have you thought about it recently?

you nodded to his question, feeling guilty.

he slowly nodded back to you. —i've been thinking about it too.

DURING PREGNANCY

logan started helping caliban in the kitchen, something that surprised you at first because he had never been much of a cook. but the two of them would work together, preparing meals that were good for you and the baby. logan would quietly chop vegetables or stir a pot, taking caliban’s instructions (also surprising because he had not followed anyone's instructions in a long time) as they worked to make sure you had everything you needed to stay healthy.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult for you to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe. it became an intimate routine, his fingers massaged your scalp with care.

every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly, helping to care for the stretch marks that had started to appear. he knew how self-conscious they made you feel. he could see it in the way you’d glance at your reflection, letting out a frustrated huff each time you noticed a new one, how you’d try to hide it from him, or how you’d wrap yourself in a towel quickly after a shower. so he took his time applying the lotion with steady hands, his eyes focused as if making sure he was doing it right.

—another one? —you muttered, feeling the weight of it.

—doesn’t change a thing —. logan just shook his head, kneeling beside you. —it’s just a mark. i'm covered in marks, and you never cared, right?

laura sat close to you, her eyes focused on your belly as logan gently massaged your skin. she was waiting, as she always did, hoping to see her future sister move. each time logan’s hand smoothed over your growing bump, laura’s gaze would sharpen, her small body leaning forward saying come on, little sis, just one kick. sometimes she’d place her hand beside logan’s, her touch gentle but curious.

—is she going to move soon? —she’d ask in a hushed voice.

logan glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. —she’s already kickin' when you’re not looking —. he teased lightly as he rubbed the cream over your stretch marks, carefully. laura’s eyes never left your belly, waiting for that one special moment.

and he'd give you foot massages, his calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile.

when your clothes stopped fitting, it was he who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him, making you feel him close to you even when he was away at work.

logan was a bit reluctant at first but when the doctor told him how important prenatal yoga was to you, he didn't have to think about it twice. he wanted to be there and help you in every way he could even though he felt a bit out of place among the soft music, peaceful atmosphere, and expectant mothers, but he never let it show.

he'd help you find comfort in each of the poses the instructor guided everyone. he was often the only man in the class, which certainly caught the attention of the other moms. perhaps they noticed the age gap between you and logan, but more likely, their attention was drawn to your undeniably handsome partner. some of them whispered to each other, half-jokingly expressing their jealousy at how lucky you were to have such a dedicated partner. you both noticed the glances but you were too focused on each other.

as the weeks went by, the mothers would often smile at him, offering you two the kindest words as they saw how attentive he was to your needs.

at the end of the class, logan leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand resting on your back. —you did great —. he murmured, his voice full of pride. as you started to gather your things, one of the mothers nearby smiled and said, you're a lucky girl.

you couldn’t help but blush a little. he gave a small, almost shy smirk in response but didn’t say anything. instead, he focused on helping you with your bag.

the moment you found out you were pregnant, he quit smoking. it was almost instinctive, he wanted nothing but the best for you and the baby, and that included kicking the habit that had stuck with him for years.

and giving up cigarettes was one thing, but quitting drinking was way harder. there were nights he’d sit in the kitchen, staring at the bottle in the cabinet, knowing he could just reach for it. but he remembered you asleep in the other room, a hand resting protectively over your belly, and he’d push the thought away. he didn’t want his daughter growing up with memories of whiskey lingering on her father’s breath.

DURING LABOR

logan was more terrified than he'd ever let you know. he had faced, battles survived unimaginable pain, and lived through horrors but this was different. watching you in pain, knowing that your body was going through something so intense shook him to his core.

he stayed by your side, gripping your hand tightly and leaning in close, his voice encouraging you to push. he'd brush the damp strands of hair that were sticking to your face and press his forehead to yours.

when the baby’s first cry filled the room, logan sighed in relief, his grip on your hand softening as he finally allowed himself to breathe. once the doctors placed her on your chest, logan leaned in by your side, his eyes shining as he looked at you. you did so good, baby, thank you so much he murmured as he kissed your sweaty forehead and one of his fingers brushed across the baby’s little cheek.

AFTER PREGNANCY

at first, he was terrified every time he held her, his usually steady hands suddenly unsure. he was afraid that even his touch might be too much. she was so tiny, so soft and fragile, and her chest rose and fell so peacefully even though her small fingers wrapped around logan's thick ones with such strength. he found himself holding his breath whenever he picked her up.

in those first few days after labor, logan seemed to be everywhere at once. checking on the baby, bringing you food, making sure you were sleeping and laura wasn't trying to sneak into your room to see the baby. she was fascinated by her little sister, how could a human being be so small? laura often asked herself.

logan would catch her on her tiptoes, face with curiosity, and he’d stop her with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. laura would pout, glancing past him with wide eyes, eager to get closer, but logan wasn’t having it.

you surprised him when you caught him slipping into a soft, almost comical baby voice whenever he spoke to his daughter. but it was completely unintentional, just something that happened whenever he looked down at her tiny face, her big eyes blinking up at him. oh, what’s that little face all about, huh? you got somethin’ to say, little one? he’d murmur, his voice high and gentle as he rubbed one of her cheeks.

logan never thought he’d find joy in something as simple as dressing up his little girl, but there he was, surrounded by tiny clothes, immersed in a world of pastels and patterns. the laughter that escaped his lips as he put together the outfits was genuine. alright, sweetheart, what do you think of this one? he would ask her, holding the little one in front of the mirror. the baby had no idea what was going on, but logan nodded, approving the outfit. he’d try on multiple outfits, taking photos, and sending them to you for your opinion. how about this for school? he’d text you, proudly. this one’s a bold choice, but i think you can pull it off, he’d tease, pretending to be a fashion critic.

leaving for work each day became one of the hardest things logan had to do. he hated those hours he spent apart from the three of you. and every night when he came home, the baby was already sleeping but he'd tiptoe over to the crib, and he'd place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. then he’d make his way to bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close against his chest. he’d nuzzle his head close, murmuring softly, you okay, darlin’? and though you’d only mumble a half-coherent answer, he’d still give a small, satisfied nod.

and when he gets out of work earlier, he comes home exhausted, and you can see it in his face, the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders, the way he rubs the back of his neck, but despite that, he is never too tired to play with his baby girl.

as the baby grew, logan took on new challenges, like driving her to school each morning, packing her tiny backpack with her favorite snacks, and doing her hair. with dark brown locks just like laura's and his own, he gathered them into two little ponytails, a bit clumsy at first, his fingers were used to fighting and rough work, not delicate hairstyles.

laura, after seeing how much fun logan had with the little girl’s hair, wanted no less. she’d approach him, eyes bright with excitement. —can you do my hair too, logan?

—your mom can do it for you. she's much better at it than i am —. he answered, not sure if his hairdressing skills would meet the older girl's expectations.

—but i want you to do it!

logan huffed, ruffling her hair with his free hand. he used the same care gathering laura's long hair as he did for her baby sister and he found it incredibly satisfying to see laura's face light up when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

after all, he was meant to be a girl's dad. every moment with you and your daughters reminded him that all those years of solitude and struggles, had led him here to a life filled with love. he might have thought being a dad was beyond his reach, but now, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

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solxamber · 3 months ago

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Making Up After an Argument with: Overblot Gang + Rollo

part 2 with vice housewardens + kalim

on this day, i offer you some hurt/comfort

It’s been two days. Two long, awkward, and uncomfortable days of silent treatment between you and him. The argument had been petty—something so small that you can’t even remember what sparked it. But pride, stubbornness, and a little bit of frustration had taken over, and now, here you are, locked in a stalemate.

You’ve been tiptoeing around each other, avoiding eye contact, pretending not to care. But in reality, the silence feels like it’s stretching forever, and you hate it. You hate the feeling of distance between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You miss him. Even with him just a walk away, it feels like miles.

The realization hits you hard as you sit there, staring at your phone, hoping for a sign—any sign—that he’s willing to break first. But of course, nothing comes. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Maybe even more.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in your seat. Ugh, fine. I’ll be the one to give in this time. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. But deep down, you know you love him too much to let this go on. And you know he loves you too, even if neither of you will say it right now.

Riddle Rosehearts

You sigh dramatically, dragging your feet as you head towards Riddle’s dorm. The argument was dumb—you know that now. And if anyone could hold onto stubbornness like a grudge, it was Riddle Rosehearts. You, on the other hand, are way too tired of the silence, so it’s time for drastic measures.

As you approach his door, you pause, a silly idea forming in your mind. What’s the best way to apologize to someone like Riddle? With a flourish, of course. You rummage through your bag, pull out a red rose you happened to pick up earlier—totally coincidental, you promise yourself—and start plotting.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door, taking a deep breath. You hear footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing Riddle’s ever-serious face. His eyes flick up to you, then down to the rose in your hand, then back up again. He doesn’t say anything, though the faintest hint of curiosity flashes in his eyes.

Time to execute the plan.

You drop to one knee in an exaggerated, overly dramatic fashion, holding the rose high above your head like you’re a knight pledging allegiance to his queen. “My dearest Riddle, Queen of the Rose Garden, I come bearing an apology for my grievous offense. I’ve come to beg for your forgiveness,” you say, loud enough for the whole dorm to hear.

Riddle's eyes go wide, and for a moment, his face goes completely red—not from anger, but from pure, unfiltered embarrassment. He glances around, hoping no one else is witnessing this absolute spectacle you’re making.

"Please," you continue, voice wobbling as if you're on the verge of tears, "Grant me one more chance to bask in your presence! Your mercy, oh merciful ruler!" You bow dramatically, forehead almost touching the ground.

He sputters, clearly flustered beyond belief. "W-What are you doing? Get up! That's completely unnecessary—!"

"No!" You hold up the rose like a peace offering. "Not until you talk to me again! I will stay here on my knees if I must! Forever! Or until I get a cramp, whichever comes first!"

He’s torn between laughing at the ridiculousness of it and dying from second-hand embarrassment. “This is ridiculous! I—” He looks at the rose, then at you, eyes softening just a bit. “Fine, fine, just… stand up already.”

You spring to your feet, grinning triumphantly. “So, we’re good?”

Riddle sighs, rubbing his temples. "You're impossible."

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him playfully.

“Yes. But stop being so dramatic. The whole dorm probably heard you…”

You don’t care. You throw your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and for a second, Riddle freezes, stunned by the unexpected affection. Then, hesitantly, he returns the hug. He’s still embarrassed, but there’s a softness to his grip, a sign that he missed this closeness just as much as you did.

He pulls you into his room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, the embarrassment on his face fades, replaced with a quiet vulnerability. He avoids your eyes, walking over to his desk, his voice quieter now. “I… I was afraid,” he admits. “That maybe you were getting tired of me. I know I’m difficult sometimes, and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “Where is this coming from?”

He sits down, staring at the floor. “You could be with someone more… easygoing. Less rigid. Someone who doesn’t argue over every little thing.”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you. I chose you, remember?”

He looks up at you, eyes filled with uncertainty, and you notice his hands trembling just slightly. “But what if I drive you away? What if one day you just… stop trying?”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. Before you can think, you step forward, kneeling in front of him. Without hesitation, you cup his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek. “That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

His eyes glisten slightly, the tension of the past few days unraveling as he leans into your touch. “But—”

“No buts,” you insist softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. Stubbornness, rules, and all. And honestly, I think the petty arguments are kinda fun. It keeps things… interesting.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel a few tears slip down his cheeks. “You don’t know how hard it is for me,” he whispers. “To balance everything, to try and be perfect all the time… I don’t want to lose you because of my shortcomings.”

You smile gently, brushing away the tears with your thumb as you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. “You’re not going to lose me. You don’t have to be perfect, Riddle. I didn’t fall in love with perfection, I fell in love with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, tears still threatening to spill over, but his grip on your hand tightens as if he’s holding on to your words. “I… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world,” you whisper, pulling him into a tight hug, cradling his head against your shoulder as he allows himself to cry softly into your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, gently whispering reassurances as he finally lets go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I missed you,” he mumbles between sniffles, his voice fragile in a way you’ve rarely heard before.

“I missed you too,” you say, kissing the top of his head. “Let’s never do this silent treatment thing again, okay?”

He nods, still clinging to you, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss against your shoulder, a wordless promise.

Leona Kingscholar

It’s been two long days of silence. And if you know one thing about Leona Kingscholar, it’s that his stubbornness rivals your own. You’ve been circling around each other, neither one of you willing to be the first to admit defeat. But the silence is eating away at you, and, well… you miss him.

So, you hatch a plan. A very dramatic, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary plan.

Armed with a large bouquet of sunflowers—because roses are too obvious—you march into Savanaclaw with all the confidence of someone who is absolutely not going to be embarrassed by this. Nope. You pass by several confused students on your way to Leona’s room, each one giving you strange looks as you carry the huge bouquet.

You stop in front of his door, take a deep breath, and knock. No answer. You knock again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Sighing, you decide to just barge in—because what’s a grand gesture without a bit of dramatic flair? Pushing open the door, you find Leona lounging on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

Perfect.

You march up to him and stand by his bed, holding the bouquet in front of you like a shield. “Leona Kingscholar, hear me out!” you declare, in a tone that’s probably more suited for a court jester than someone in an actual relationship.

One of his ears twitches, and his eyes crack open, glancing at you. You stand tall and proud, despite how ridiculous you feel, presenting the sunflowers like they’re some rare treasure. “I come bearing these humble sunflowers as an offering to ask for your forgiveness, O Great King of Beasts.”

He snorts. Actually snorts. “What are you on about, herbivore?”

You drop to one knee dramatically, holding the flowers up to him as if you’re a knight swearing fealty to his king. “Please, Leona! Forgive my transgressions! I was wrong to argue with you, and I cannot bear another moment without your esteemed company!”

Leona raises an eyebrow, staring at you with what can only be described as amusement. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

“I am but a humble servant, groveling for your mercy!” you continue, refusing to break character. “Please, take these sunflowers as a token of my undying affection and devotion!”

By now, Leona is fully awake, sitting up and resting his chin in his hand, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “Sunflowers, huh? How thoughtful of you.”

“Of course!” You stand up dramatically, thrusting the bouquet toward him. “They represent my radiant affection for you!”

Leona finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But do you forgive me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his face betrays his amusement. “Yeah, yeah, you’re forgiven. Just stop with the theatrics, would ya?”

You grin, knowing you’ve won him over. But there’s something still lingering in the air, some tension that hasn’t quite disappeared yet. Leona might be laughing, but you can tell he’s still a bit on edge, still a little distant.

Setting the sunflowers aside, you walk over to the bed and sit next to him. “Leona, I know it was a dumb fight, but… you know you’re the only one for me, right?”

He glances at you, his smile fading slightly as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease. Then, without a word, he shifts, pulling you down onto the bed with him, his body practically draping over yours like a big, heavy, warm blanket. His arms wrap around you, his tail curling possessively around your leg, anchoring you to him.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, letting out a low, contented sigh. “You better not,” he mumbles against your skin. “I don’t feel like dealing with anyone else’s nonsense.”

You smile softly, running your fingers through his hair, scratching gently behind his ears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Leona presses closer, his body relaxing fully against yours as if he’s been waiting for this. His weight is comforting, and you can feel the way he melts into your embrace, his tail tightening just slightly around you as if to say, mine.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as close as you can, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “You okay now?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “Just don’t pull that silent treatment crap again. Hate it.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Deal.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the way he snuggles even closer to you tells you that all is forgiven. You hold him tight, and in that moment, with him lying on top of you like a big, lazy cat, everything feels right again.

Azul Ashengrotto

It’s been two long, dreadful days of silence between you and Azul. And for someone like him—someone who thrives on words, on negotiation, on control—it’s been absolutely agonizing. But his pride won’t let him be the first to crack. He’s stubborn like that.

And you? Well, you’re not much better.

But enough is enough. The tension between you both is suffocating, and while you’re both great at the silent treatment, it’s clear this little game of emotional chicken has to end. You’ve had enough of this cold war, and after mulling over how to make amends, you come up with the most absurd, ridiculous plan that just might work.

You stand outside the Mostro Lounge, a grin on your face, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. In your arms is the biggest, gaudiest, most unnecessary floral arrangement imaginable—an explosion of blues and purples that makes it look like you’ve picked half of the Coral Sea to present to Azul. There are seashells, ribbons, and even a tiny fake octopus plush dangling from the bouquet, like the cherry on top of your ridiculous masterpiece.

You march into the Lounge, catching the attention of several customers, who stop to stare as you make your way toward Azul’s office. Ignoring their looks, you throw the door open dramatically, the bouquet nearly tipping you over with its weight.

“Azul Ashengrotto!” you declare, bursting into his office. He’s sitting at his desk, and the second he sees you and the monstrosity of flowers in your arms, his eyes go wide. “I have come to beg for your forgiveness!”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the display. “W-What…?”

You march up to him, practically dropping the bouquet on his desk with a flourish. “These flowers represent my sincere regret for my terrible behavior during our argument. As you can see, they are over-the-top and completely unnecessary, much like my stubbornness.”

Azul stares at the bouquet, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Y-You…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself, but there’s a telltale twitch at the corner of his lips that suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “This is absurd.”

“I know,” you reply with a dramatic sigh, throwing a hand to your forehead like a tragic figure. “I have been plagued with guilt these past two days, Azul. I couldn’t bear another moment without your lovely company.”

He finally cracks, letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you, darling.” You lean over the desk, waggling your eyebrows, and he sighs, shaking his head. His laughter is light, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls at your heartstrings. He may be smiling, but something’s still weighing on him.

With a small smile, Azul stands from his desk and walks around it until he’s standing right in front of you. He reaches for your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking up at you with a much softer expression than before.

“I’ll admit… I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “But I—” He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if debating whether or not to say the next words. “Did you… only come back because you thought you had to? Or do you still… want me?”

His voice cracks, just a little, but it’s enough to make your heart break. You blink in surprise, your breath catching at the rawness in his question.

“Azul…” you say softly, stepping closer, cupping his face gently in your hands. His eyes dart to yours, filled with a mix of uncertainty and hope, and it almost shatters you. “Of course I want you. Always.”

He swallows hard, and you can see the tears welling up in his eyes, ones he’s desperately trying to hide. But you won’t let him. You pull him close, wrapping your arms around him tightly, holding him as if you could shield him from the insecurities swirling in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple. “I love you. I’ve always loved you since I met you, and I always will. No matter what.”

Azul clings to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder as his breath hitches. The tears come slowly, quietly, and you feel them soak into your shirt as he holds you like you’re his lifeline.

You kiss the top of his head, brushing your lips against his hair, then down to his tear-streaked cheeks. “I’m here,” you whisper between each kiss, your voice soft and soothing. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Azul. You never were.”

He squeezes you tighter, as if afraid to let go, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving his body. You keep kissing away his tears, gentle and patient, letting him take all the time he needs. Eventually, his breathing steadies, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with so much affection it makes your heart swell.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs again, though there’s no bite to his words. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, his lips brushing yours in the lightest of touches.

“Ridiculous, but yours” you reply, grinning, and he huffs a quiet laugh.

“Yes… you are,” he whispers, and this time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and tender, his lips soft but firm against yours, filled with all the love and relief he’s been holding back. You kiss him back with just as much affection, your arms wrapping around him as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

When he finally pulls away, you rest your forehead against his once more, both of you breathing a little heavier but feeling lighter than you have in days.

“No more arguments, okay?” you murmur, smiling softly.

“No promises,” he teases, but there’s a warmth in his voice now, a comfort that reassures you everything will be just fine.

And as you hold him close, with his head resting against your shoulder, you know it too. Everything will be just fine.

Jamil Viper

After two long days of silence, the weight of the unresolved argument with Jamil has become unbearable. You’re done waiting for him to make the first move, especially knowing how he can be—cautious, calculating, always one step ahead but never one to make the first emotional leap. You miss him, and more importantly, you want to make things right, even if it means doing something absolutely ridiculous.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside his dorm, holding a tray of… pancakes. Not just any pancakes, though. These are heart shaped, perfectly arranged to spell out “I’M SORRY” in big, syrup-drenched letters. You’re not sure what possessed you to make pancakes an apology tool, but hey, everyone loves pancakes, right?

With a deep breath, you knock on his door. After a moment, Jamil opens it, his expression neutral, but the second he spots the tray, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What... is this?”

You grin sheepishly, lifting the tray up like a peace offering. “An apology. In pancake form.”

Jamil blinks at the sight, clearly trying to process this ridiculous gesture. “You… made pancakes to say sorry?”

“Yes. And they’re shaped like hearts. See? I even used syrup to write it out so there’s no confusion.” You point to the pancakes proudly. “You can’t stay mad at me after this, right?”

For a moment, Jamil just stares at the tray, his expression unreadable, before a slow, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He lets out a quiet huff of laughter, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours.”

He shakes his head, but there’s no denying the amusement in his eyes. “You could have just apologized with words, you know.”

“I could have,” you agree, “but where’s the fun in that?” You give him your best hopeful grin, offering him a plate. “Come on, at least eat one. They’re good! I even made them heart-shaped.”

Jamil sighs, taking the plate from you with a resigned smile. He grabs one of the heart-shaped pancakes and bites into it, giving you a side glance. “I suppose I can’t stay mad after this.”

You watch him closely, noticing the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. You know him well enough to see through his calm facade. Beneath it all, he’s still embarrassed—mostly about the argument, but also because he let his temper get the best of him. You can tell that’s what’s really bothering him, even now.

“You know,” you say softly, stepping closer, “it’s okay that we argued.”

Jamil looks at you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t have to feel bad for losing your temper. You don’t always have to hold everything in around me. It’s okay to let it out, to be angry, to argue. We’re not always going to agree, and that’s fine.” You place your hand gently on his arm. “I’ll always come back and fix things, even if you feel like you can’t. That’s what we do, right?”

Jamil stares at you for a moment, his expression softening as your words sink in. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one that he rarely shows, and it breaks your heart just a little. Slowly, he sets the plate down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re too forgiving,” he murmurs, resting his chin on top of your head.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I meant it. You don’t have to be perfect with me, Jamil. You can be yourself, temper and all.”

He lets out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening slightly around you. “You’ll regret saying that one day.”

“I doubt it,” you tease, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But if I do, I’ll make more food.”

That earns you a small, genuine laugh, and before you can say anything else, Jamil leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, his expression is softer than you’ve seen in days.

“You’re serious about that promise?” he asks quietly, his hand cupping your cheek. “That no matter what, you’ll always come back?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “Always. Even if we argue, even if things get tough, I’ll be right here. I’ll come back and fix it, even if you can’t.”

Jamil’s eyes flicker with emotion, and before you know it, he’s kissing you—soft and slow at first, but there’s a desperation behind it, a need for reassurance. You kiss him back with the same intensity, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer, trying to pour every bit of love and understanding into the kiss.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, but the tension that had been there for the past two days is gone. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he exhales slowly.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he whispers, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “Just don’t make me wait this long next time.”

You smile, reaching up to brush your lips against his again. “Deal. But only if you agree to eat more pancakes.”

He chuckles, pulling you back into his arms. “Fine. But only because they’re heart-shaped.”

And just like that, everything feels right again.

Vil Schoenheit

After two days of tense silence between you and Vil, you know you need to go all out if you’re going to get him to forgive you. Apologies are one thing, but Vil is someone who values effort, refinement, and, of course, aesthetic appeal. You can’t just go in with flowers—no, you need to apologize in a way that matches his standards.

So naturally, you end up outside his dorm with a full-on spa set-up. A luxury at-home facial kit, to be precise, complete with rare, imported skincare masks and the finest essential oils. You may or may not have spent more on this than you’ve ever spent on yourself before, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

When Vil opens the door, his eyes immediately narrow at the sight of you holding a basket filled with beautifully arranged skincare products. “What… is this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You smile, trying to play it cool. “An apology. In skincare form.” You thrust the basket toward him. “I thought maybe you’d like to, uh, pamper yourself and—look! I even got the organic lavender serum you were talking about last month!”

Vil stares at the basket, then at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re bribing me with skincare?”

“Technically, I’m apologizing with skincare,” you correct, flashing a sheepish grin. “I know I messed up, and I know you like to unwind with your beauty routine, so I thought this might help smooth things over. Literally and figuratively.”

For a long moment, he just stands there, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. You’re starting to think you might’ve miscalculated when, suddenly, a soft chuckle escapes him. “You are… absolutely ridiculous.”

You blink. “So… that’s a yes on the skincare?”

Vil shakes his head, but the faintest smile is playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re my sweet potato.”

Relief floods through you at his words. “I’ll take that as forgiveness, then.”

He sighs, taking the basket from you and setting it on the table. “Yes, I forgive you.” But even as he says it, there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper that makes you pause.

You step closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Are you still mad?”

Vil glances away for a moment, and you can see the tension in his posture. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more vulnerable than usual. “No, I’m not mad. But… I was afraid. So, so afraid that I’d pushed you away too. That I’d lost the one person who could tolerate me.”

Your heart clenches at his words. You can feel the weight of all the pressure he’s put on himself, the fear of losing someone important. Without thinking, you pull him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around him as if you could shield him from that fear. “Vil, listen to me. I’m not here because I tolerate you. I’m here because I love you.”

He stiffens in your arms for a moment, but slowly, he relaxes, his hands coming to rest on your back. “You say that now, but—”

You cut him off, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, I mean it. Loving someone isn’t about tolerating them. It’s about being with them because you can’t imagine being anywhere else.” You brush a strand of hair from his face, your thumb gently tracing his cheek. “I’m here because you’re everything to me, Vil. Even if you’re mean sometimes. Even if we argue. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes soften at your words, and for a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he leans in and presses a soft, tender kiss to your lips, his hands gently cradling your face. The kiss is slow, almost tentative, as if he’s still afraid you’ll disappear.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the unshed tears in his eyes, though he quickly blinks them away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You do,” you whisper back, kissing him again, softer this time, lingering against his lips. “And I’m staying. Forever, even if you’re a diva sometimes.”

Vil lets out a soft, breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Forever?” he repeats, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Forever,” you promise, pulling him closer until his arms wrap around you fully. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight, and for the first time in two days, everything feels right again.

And as he hugs you back, his grip a little tighter than before, you know he believes you.

Idia Shroud

You stand outside of Idia’s room, holding a stack of video game cases in one hand and a ridiculously oversized plush of his favorite game character in the other. This might be the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, but it’s not like you could just waltz in and hand him a flower. Idia isn’t exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type. No, he needs something bigger. Geekier. Something so outrageous that it’ll leave him flustered beyond belief—something that only you would dare to pull off.

So here you are, wearing a custom-made cosplay of the main character from his favorite RPG. And if this doesn’t get him to forgive you, you don’t know what will.

You knock on his door, bracing yourself for what’s about to come next. At first, there’s no response, so you knock again, louder this time. After a few seconds, you hear shuffling inside and the telltale sound of something crashing to the floor—classic Idia. Finally, the door creaks open just enough for you to see a pair of glowing eyes peeking through the gap.

“What… are you wearing?” His voice is barely audible, and you can already tell he’s regretting opening the door.

With a dramatic flourish, you throw your arms wide and hold out the plush. “Oh, mighty Idia, Lord of the Underworld and Master of All Games, I come bearing offerings to beg for your forgiveness!” You strike a pose, holding the plush in front of you like it’s some kind of magical artifact.

Idia’s eyes go wide, and you swear his hair flares up a notch, turning into a bright pink. He blinks, clearly stunned, before his hand shoots out to yank you inside his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“W-What are you doing?!” His voice cracks as he looks at you, then the plush, then the video games. His hair is now a brilliant shade of neon pink, a sign that he’s absolutely mortified. “Are you trying to kill me from embarrassment?!”

You can’t help but grin at how flustered he is. “Hey, I had to go big! You were ignoring me for two whole days!”

“I wasn’t ignoring you!” He fidgets, avoiding eye contact as his hair flickers pink. “I just… thought maybe you were tired of me or something…”

Your grin fades, replaced with surprise. “Tired of you? What are you talking about?”

Idia sinks into his gaming chair, nervously picking at the hem of his hoodie. “I just figured… you know, you’d realize you could do better. I mean, c’mon, I’m not exactly ‘catch of the year’ material. You’re always out there, living in the real world, and I’m… well, here. Playing games and… avoiding people.”

You take a deep breath, moving closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Idia,” you say firmly, “if you seriously think I’d ever get tired of you, you’re out of your mind.”

He glances up at you, clearly unconvinced, so you kneel down, placing the plush in his lap before grabbing his hands. “You mean the world to me. I’d literally fight God in a 1v1 death match if it meant keeping you.”

His eyes go wide again, his hair flaring even brighter. “Y-You’d what?”

“I mean it,” you continue, squeezing his hands. “I love you, okay? Whether we’re sitting in here gaming or you’re talking to me about your latest game binge, or even when you’re convinced that you’re somehow not enough. You are enough, Idia. You’re more than enough.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, processing your words. Then, slowly, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you in the most awkward, yet endearing hug imaginable. His face is buried in your shoulder, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hair as it flares even pinker. “You’re… too good for me,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his voice small.

You chuckle softly, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability in them. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, watching as his hair flickers with warmth. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Idia blinks a few times before he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you closer this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “But I guess… I forgive you. Not that I was really mad in the first place.”

You laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I missed you.”

His grip tightens around you, and for a moment, you both stay like that—wrapped up in each other, the tension of the past few days melting away. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes flicking toward his gaming setup. “So, uh… you wanna play something?”

You grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you settle onto the floor, your back leaning against his chest as he hands you a controller. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hair still glowing a soft pink at the ends as the game starts up.

As you start playing, he presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Thanks. For, y’know… everything.”

You smile, leaning back into his warmth. “Anytime, Idia. Anytime.”

Malleus Draconia

The wind howls as you trudge across the campus, dragging a massive stone gargoyle behind you. It weighs approximately as much as a baby elephant, and if anyone else saw you right now, they’d think you’d completely lost it. But you know exactly what you’re doing. You know the storm swirling above Night Raven College is because of him, and if there’s one thing Malleus Draconia loves more than you (or so you like to tease), it’s a well-crafted gargoyle.

So here you are, yanking the poor stone creature across the wet grass like you’re on some kind of mission. Your arms ache, your back is screaming, and you’re about to regret this grand gesture entirely—until you finally see the towering spires of Diasomnia in the distance. Almost there.

You pause for a second to catch your breath, leaning on the gargoyle like it’s an old friend. “You’d better work,” you mutter to it, “because if I have to drag you all the way back, I swear—”

A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, reminding you why you’re out here in the first place. You shake off the rain, grit your teeth, and resume your march toward Diasomnia’s courtyard.

Once you arrive, you park the gargoyle right underneath Malleus’s window. Perfect placement. You could be a medieval decorator at this point.

You pick up a few rocks from the ground, size them up in your hand, and start tossing them at his window, each one making a soft thunk against the glass. After the third throw, the window creaks open, and Malleus leans out, looking down with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His eyes land on the gargoyle first, then on you, soaked to the bone and holding a rock like you’re about to reenact some ancient ritual.

“Huh?” is all he says, blinking at the sight before him.

“Malleus!” you shout dramatically, “Come down! I brought you a peace offering!”

He stares at the gargoyle, then at you, before disappearing from the window in a blur. Within seconds, he’s outside, standing in front of you, his expression unreadable but his eyes glowing faintly with that magical storm swirling around them. The weather above you rumbles ominously, thunder echoing across the sky.

“Malleus, I—”

Before you can even finish, he pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You freeze for a second, surprised, then feel his body trembling slightly against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The storm… I didn’t know it would affect you too.”

You realize then that his hands are shaking, gripping onto you like you’re his lifeline. Your heart softens, and you return the hug, pressing your face into his neck. “No, I’m sorry,” you mumble into his skin. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve come sooner… with or without the gargoyle.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel the tension begin to fade from his body. Slowly, the storm above you starts to calm—the wind softens, the rain turns into a light drizzle, and the ominous clouds roll back as if they were never there to begin with.

You pull back just enough to look at him, his glowing eyes now gentle as they meet yours. “So, uh… do you like the gargoyle?” you ask, grinning a little.

Malleus chuckles softly, his eyes flicking to the stone statue behind you. “It’s… impressive. Though you didn’t have to go through such lengths.”

You shrug. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

He smiles, a genuine, relieved smile, and before you can say anything else, he tugs you back toward the castle. “Come inside,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “You’re soaked, and you brought a guest. We should both dry off.”

The two of you (and your new gargoyle friend) make your way to his room, and as soon as the door closes behind you, Malleus pulls you onto his bed, wrapping himself around you like a possessive dragon hoarding his most precious treasure. His arms curl around your waist, and his body presses snugly against yours as he buries his face in your neck.

You stroke his hair gently, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the last bit of chill from the storm. “You know I love you, right?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I just… sometimes, I worry.”

You pull back enough to kiss him properly, your lips brushing against his softly, reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry,” you murmur between kisses. “You mean everything to me. And if I have to drag a hundred gargoyles across campus to prove it, I will.”

Malleus chuckles against your lips, a low, warm sound that rumbles through his chest. “Please don’t. One is more than enough.”

You laugh softly, nuzzling into his neck as you both settle into a comfortable silence, the storm outside completely gone now, leaving only peace and quiet—and a very satisfied, if slightly confused, gargoyle standing guard outside.

Rollo Flamme

The argument with Rollo had left a strange tension in the air, but knowing him, it was probably accompanied by a quiet storm of overthinking and guilt on his end. Rollo Flamme wasn’t one to voice his frustrations loudly, but his brooding could be as heavy as the weight of the world.

You figure it’s time to fix this, and, because you can’t just do anything the normal way, you decide on something special—something that’d be just the right mix of thoughtful and ridiculous to get his attention.

That’s why you find yourself in the Bell Tower, with a bundle of parchment paper in your arms. Not just any parchment, though—carefully selected handwritten notes of every philosophical thought, poetry piece, and historical fact you know Rollo’s obsessed with. You’ve even bound it like a book, with a dramatic title on the front: “An Ode to Perfection: Why Rollo is Always Right (Sometimes)”. It’s sarcastic enough to make him smile, but sincere enough to show you care.

Climbing the stairs of the bell tower is no small feat, but you’re determined. Once at the top, you glance out at the courtyard, where you know he’ll be, and with a deep breath, you shout, “ROLLO FLAMME, I HAVE CLIMBED THE HEIGHTS TO OFFER YOU THIS SYMBOL OF MY UNDYING RESPECT AND HUMILITY!”

Your voice echoes dramatically through the courtyard, and sure enough, you see Rollo down below, startled out of his brooding. He looks up, eyes widening at the sight of you, but it’s hard to tell if he’s more confused or horrified by the spectacle.

“I OFFER THIS—” you hold the makeshift book high, “—AS A PEACE TREATY BETWEEN US, THAT WE MAY NEVER AGAIN BE SEPARATED BY MERE MORTAL PETTINESS!”

Rollo stares for a long moment, before he suddenly breaks into a full-on sprint toward the tower. He’s halfway up the stairs before you know it, and when he reaches the top, his face is a mix of red embarrassment and panic.

“What are you doing?” he half-hisses, half-pleads, his cheeks flushed from both the running and the mortification of what you’ve just done in full view of the school. His voice lowers as he grabs your arm and tries to pull you away from the edge. “Are you insane? You could’ve fallen, and—”

“I wasn’t going to fall!” you grin, holding out the “book” triumphantly. “I came to apologize.”

He stares at the bundle of papers in your hand, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What… is this?”

“An apology. Written in beautiful calligraphy and filled with all the reasons why you’re wonderful, overthinking, but still somehow right most of the time.” You wiggle the book in front of his face. “It’s all for you.”

Rollo’s face, already red from exertion, turns an even deeper shade of crimson. His lips part, but no words come out for a second as he glares at the book, then at you. “You… climbed the bell tower. Yelled in front of everyone. And wrote a whole book to—”

“Get you to forgive me, yeah,” you finish for him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I figured you’d appreciate the effort, Mr. Perfectionist.”

He looks at the book again, his hands shaky as he takes it from you, carefully cradling it as if it’s some kind of sacred artifact. His voice drops to a whisper. “You… didn’t have to go this far. I was never angry at you.”

You blink, surprised by his words. “What do you mean?”

Rollo glances down, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I thought… maybe you’d realize you didn’t need someone like me. That you’d see how much of a burden I am.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Without hesitation, you step closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Rollo Flamme, if you think for a second that I’d leave you, you’re wrong. I’d get into a fistfight with God for you, and win.”

His eyes widen, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. “That’s… quite dramatic.”

“You inspire drama,” you reply with a grin, but then your tone softens, and you pull him into a tight hug. “You mean the world to me, Rollo. I don’t care about your overthinking, your brooding, or your perfectionism. I care about you.”

He tenses for a moment in your embrace, but then slowly, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you in return. His hands still tremble slightly, but he buries his face in your shoulder, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his temple. “You deserve all of it. And more.”

For a moment, he just holds onto you, breathing deeply as if trying to calm his racing thoughts. Then, after a long silence, he pulls back slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looks at you. “I… apologize as well. For doubting… for everything.”

You smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. “We’re both forgiven then.”

He nods, his face still flushed with embarrassment but now softened with relief. Without another word, he pulls you back into his room, where you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up together—Rollo resting his head against your shoulder, still clutching the book you made him, while you hold him close, reassuring him with soft kisses and whispered words of love.

The tower bells toll softly in the background, but for the two of you, there’s nothing but the warmth of each other’s presence.

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