#these are my casual apple gardening thoughts

[gardeningbythemoon]

In addition to teaching this weekend, I’m also *taking* a class—apple grafting from Seed Savers Exchange. I’m interested in growing multiple varieties on a single tree (my garden is so small and I love so many apples!) so I’ve wanted to get into grafting for a long time.

When the heirloom scions arrived with the rest of the kit earlier this week, I was really excited to see that one of the varieties goes back to 1850 in Granby, NY, which is just around the corner from where Maxx grew up and a half hour drive from where we live right now.

I got to thinking, I know where the apple tree’s ancestors were, but where were my ancestors during that time? I asked Maxx as well and between us, our ancestors were in Holland, Sweden, Ireland, Ohio, California, Quebec, the Catskills, and we each had ancestors in central New York.

In 1850, Granby had been settled for 58 years. It had been 71 years since George Washington wrote to John Sullivan, ordering him & his troops to destroy as many Haudenosaunee towns as possible, fields and villages included, with the explicit goal of destroying their foodways and sovereignty.

I love the rural areas of upstate New York, and I love the small towns here, and I know many of them were settled in those decades, that my ancestors moved in in the wake of bloodshed and destruction, or may have participated in the annihilation themselves. It’s impossible to separate our own ancestral stories, foodways, and the history of the land we live on. It’s not easy to think of our forebears enacting violence and even harder to of them suffering it—but, I think, the only way to deal with these histories is to meet them eyes open, even when it’s painful.

From Indigenous orchards being razed and replaced by European cattle, to the Irish potato famine, to the wars fought for the oil that fertilizes & ships produce, to contemporary famines & landgrabs, the basic human need for food has often been twisted towards profit and atrocity. If we want to build a truly healthy food system, we will need to address not only the invasive species in our gardens and the poisons in our soils, but the histories that have left them there.

[prlssprfctn]

About your post in which Jason loses his brain mouth filter and rambles all his train of thoughts, imagine if one (or more) of his friends appeared/were mentioned in the middle of this.

People would get a whiplash between all the childhood trauma bomb drop, the depressing thoughts, the cheesy sweet things he thinks about his friends but rarely says (only between them), the adult teen-adult trauma bomb drop, and the random ass thoughts must be the origin of his humor sense.

He would go from casually recalling that time he went days without eating anything but a piece of bread until poison ivy accidentally tripped with him because she hadn't seen him and paid him in apples to not snitch in which way she went to "at least I wasn't hungry when I was dead" to calling one of his friends amazing bc of [hyper specific treat they have] to "ughh that was so embarrasing. Why couldn't that batarang cut down my vocal chords too?" to some ridiculous knee-jerk response when someone asks about that.

oh. THIS.

just generally, Jason is so attentive to people he loves, i think he would also spur some little details about his friends and family that they themselves never noticed.

and the pipeline between random traumatic experiences and this? absolutely devastating. because deep inside, he is still the same second Robin they knew so well.

just imagine Dick trying to soothe him by playing with his hair, when Jason randomly goes in a whole rant like:

"i always hated people touching my hair... reminds me of times when i was earning some cash on streets, if you know what i mean... also i am pretty sure joker rip out a clump of my hair, but that might be wrong... memories are shit like that... reminds me of Roy. Roy is so fricking good with breading hair, Lian adores it. i seriously need to take a few lessons from him before visiting her again..."

or someone trying to distract him by suggesting to help Alfred in a garden, and Jason goes like:

"fuck, not the garden, ew, ew, ew. if i feel the dirt on myself again, i am going to shoot myself in the temple — again. i still can feel worms down my throat, fuck. god. urgh, abort it, abort it, abort it! anyway, right, i need to make it up to Kori for missing branch with her. flowers would do... not red roses, though, she thinks they are too basic... fuck, i wasn't supposed to mention it in front of Dick, he likes buying them to her and she will feel bad if he will— OH MY GOD, dad can you slit my throat again?"

...and that's how the whole family finds out about the batarang incident.

[luveline]

could you do prince steve casually letting "i love you" slip for the first time on accident during like the most random moment

like maybe he knows he loves her and he’s stressing trying to figure out how to tell her and it slips and he starts rushing out an explanation on how it wasn't supposed to happen that way (and she’s probably freaking out lol but trying to keep it together)

prince steve soulmate au | ty for requesting!

Steve’s laying on a hammock hung between two apple blossom trees behind the royal cabin when you track him down that evening. He doesn’t usually spend time away from you, which sounds weird, but he’s just been so friendly. 

Maybe on a high of finding his soul mate. Maybe because he really thinks you’re as beautiful as he suggests. You still have the memory of you both in your finery, all those jewels and silks, standing across from one another in front of a crowd of strangers as he mouthed, “You look so beautiful.” Emphatically. Like he really meant it. 

“Hi,” you say shyly. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, lifting his head, the hammock rocking slightly in the breeze, “come over here.” 

“Where have you been?” you ask. 

“How clingy of you.” 

“Sorry, just… you’ve spent every minute of the day with me for the last two weeks…” 

His smile turns serious. “I’m kidding! Kidding, and offended it took so long for you to come find me. Come over here.” 

You cross the garden, green grass and small purple daisies crinkling under your feet. You stop by his hammock, but he gestures for you to keep coming. 

“What, you want me to lay down with you? Can that support both of us?” 

“Sure it can, could you quit worrying?” He holds his arms out. 

Getting into a hammock isn’t as easy as he seems to think, but perhaps he’s used to it. You’re not, and you struggle despite his arms out for you, and the leg he plants to stop the whole thing from tipping as you climb in. 

You laugh nervously the whole time, but then you’re in the hammock with him, soft fabric under your backs. You curl into him instinctively. The lemon sconce near the cabin flickers as another breeze kisses your naked arms, but Steve is warm. 

“Wow,” you murmur, looking up through the apple blossoms, “you can already see so many stars.” 

“I know.” You grin as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, under your neck like a cushion. His nose turns to your cheek. You’re hardly ten minutes like that when he talks again, “I love you, you know?” 

You clam up with surprise. Breath pulled out of you on a fishing line, turning to see his face. He’s not messing with you. 

His face falls. “Oh, stars, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I meant to, I do love you, not that you have to tell me you love me.” He bites his tongue and starts again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to thrust it on you like that, I’ve just been thinking it, and I thought there isn’t a better time to tell you because I feel it a lot but that’s not fair. So you don’t have to tell me you love me, or even acknowledge it.” 

Steve squeezes your arm but looks away. “Don’t acknowledge it, actually. That’s my mistake.” 

“I love you too,” you say.

He smells like water chestnuts and heat, his hair permed with hot curlers, and he’s beautiful. He smells nice, tastes sweet as he leans in to kiss you slowly. Pear drops, his guilty pleasure.

You don’t know what to think as his lips part against yours. He sucks in a warm breath. “You do?” he asks, running the backs of his knuckles down your cheek. 

“Mm,” you hum, half a laugh as his touch turns ticklish down your neck, “I do, I love you.” It’s new, but it’s definitely love.

He turns you back in for a slew of slow kissing, only stopping when a rough breeze tips apple blossom petals into your arms. 

“You’re being attacked,” he whispers. It doesn’t feel like it. 

[solxamber]

hope i'm not too late — ! holiday event !

[ Pomefiore, 4, fluff ]

inspired by the extremely cursed buff epel from book 7

Not Jealous, Just Competitive || Epel Felmier

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Fluff

The commotion in the courtyard was loud, as usual, with students bustling about after class. You had just finished talking with Deuce when, out of nowhere, he had hoisted you into the air to "help" you grab a stray notebook from the branches of a tree.

"See? Easy!" Deuce said, grinning as he set you back down gently.

"Thanks, Deuce. But next time, maybe warn me before you go full knight-in-shining-armor," you laughed, dusting off your clothes.

From the sidelines, Epel watched, arms crossed and brows furrowed, his lips set in a thin line. Show-off.

Later that day, while you were chatting with him near the garden, Epel suddenly straightened his posture.

"Y'know," he began, casually flexing his arm as he reached for a nearby basket of apples, "I’ve been working on my strength lately."

"Oh?" you said, raising an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk.

"Yeah," he continued, lifting the basket with exaggerated ease, though you both knew it wasn’t that heavy. "I could probably carry you if I wanted to. Not that I’m saying I will or anything. Just saying I could."

You bit back a laugh, crossing your arms as you tilted your head. "Uh-huh. And why exactly are you telling me this?"

Epel’s face reddened, but he shook his head. "What? No reason! Just… y��know, thought you should know. Since Deuce was all… lifting you earlier."

You leaned closer, grinning now. "Wait a second. Are you jealous?"

"No!" he shot back, his ears turning red as he avoided your gaze. "I’m NOT jealous. Why would I be jealous? Deuce is just... whatever."

You couldn’t help yourself. You burst out laughing, doubling over. "Oh my gosh, Epel, you’re so bad at lying! You’re jealous!"

"I’m not jealous!" he protested, his voice rising an octave. "I could totally carry you if I wanted. Better than Deuce, even!"

"Alright, alright," you said between giggles. "Prove it, Mr. Muscles."

Epel blinked, suddenly realizing what he’d walked into. "Wait—what?"

"Go on," you teased, stepping closer. "You’re so strong, right? Show me."

His face was fully red now, but with a determined glint in his eyes, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms.

"See?" he said, gritting his teeth as he held you, his voice wobbling slightly. "T-told you. No problem."

You couldn’t stop laughing, leaning against him. "Okay, okay, you win! Put me down before you pass out!"

Epel gently set you down, looking both proud and embarrassed as he dusted off his hands.

"Not jealous," he muttered under his breath.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, surprising him into silence. "Sure, you’re not, Epel. But for the record, I think you’re the strongest guy I know."

His blush deepened, and though he tried to hide his grin, it was clear he was beaming. "Well… good. 'Cause I’m not. Jealous, I mean."

And as the two of you walked back toward the dorm, you couldn’t help but tease him the entire way.

Masterlist

[yuu-kantokusei]

Valentine's Day❤️

First year version

Characters: Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek

TW: cute, fluff, wholesome

♥️Ace Trappola

Ace isn't one for grand romantic gestures, but he also wants to make the day special in his own way. He teases you all morning, pretending to have forgotten about Valentine's Day, only to surprise you with an impromptu date at the Heartslabyul garden.

He smirks, holding out a box behind his back. "Oh? You actually thought I’d forget? How could I, when you’ve been blushing at every couple we passed today?"

Inside the box is a mix of chocolates—some gourmet, some oddly shaped—and a single playing card, the Ace of Hearts, with "Trappola’s Special Valentine" written on it.

"You better treasure that! That card’s got sentimental value, y’know." he says, grinning but looking away slightly, as if embarrassed.

Afterward, he takes you to play some games at the fair stalls set up by different dorms, winning a stuffed animal for you (after losing a few rounds first, much to his frustration). The day ends with Ace casually throwing an arm around your shoulder, laughing at how "lucky" you are to have him.

♠️Deuce Spade

Deuce spends weeks planning for Valentine’s Day, even getting advice from Trey and Riddle. On the big day, he shows up at your door, nervously shifting from foot to foot, holding a carefully wrapped box of homemade chocolates.

“I—I made these myself! Trey-senpai supervised, so they should be good. I hope…”

Inside the box, the chocolates are heart-shaped but slightly uneven, showing how hard he worked on them. There’s also a little handwritten note, written with intense concentration, saying:

"Thank you for being my precious friend. You make my days brighter. Please accept this small gift."

Afterward, he takes you for a motorcycle ride through a scenic route outside the academy, making sure you hold on tightly. At the highest point, they stop and watch the sunset together, his face turning red as he quietly mutters, "I’m really glad we met."

🐺Jack Howl

Jack isn’t one for sappy holidays, but he recognizes that Valentine’s Day is important, so he makes an effort. He finds a small but meaningful gift—a handcrafted leather bracelet with a wolf charm attached, something practical yet symbolic.

When he gives it to you, he scratches his ear, looking away. “This is… uh, something to remind you that I’ve got your back. Always.”

Instead of a traditional date, Jack takes you on a morning jog with him, where they share a quiet but peaceful time together. Later, he surprises you with a picnic under a large tree, bringing some homemade sandwiches and fruit.

As you eat happily, he watches you with a soft expression, muttering under his breath, “You should smile like that more often.”

If you tease him about it, his tail wags despite his flustered protests.

🍎Epel Felmier

Epel, despite his usual complaints about being treated as ‘cute,’ fully embraces the romance of Valentine’s Day. He invites you to a surprise horseback ride around Pomefiore’s flower fields, where he guides you gently through the scenic landscape.

At the end of the ride, he pulls out a small wooden box with a beautifully carved apple pendant inside. "I made this myself," he says proudly. "It’s apple wood from my family’s orchard. So even when you’re not with me, you’ll have a piece of my home with you."

They spend the evening watching the stars, sharing stories from their childhood. At one point, Epel, thinking you have dozed off, whispers softly, “I wish we could spend every Valentine’s like this…”

Little does he know, you heard him and smiled.

⚡️Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek insists that Valentine's Day is an insignificant human tradition, but deep down, he takes it very seriously when it involves you. He prepares a dramatic, formal speech about your “importance” in his life but keeps getting flustered halfway through.

“Ahem! I— I wish to bestow upon you a token of my— No, that’s not right! CURSES!"

Eventually, he simply hands you a carefully wrapped book—a rare edition of a famous knight’s tale. “This story… It’s about loyalty and strength. You remind me of the hero.”

Despite his usual loudness, he spends the day unusually gentle, guiding you through a serene walk near Diasomnia’s quiet gardens. By the end of the day, he clears his throat, trying to look serious.

“You—You are truly exceptional, And… I shall protect you for all eternity!” His face turns red as he abruptly storms off, embarrassed.

[22ayla21]

"Strawberry Cheesecake and Apple Cider"

Event "Sweet Stories, Intoxicating Feelings"

From the Author: again, I accidentally deleted the request due to app lags, but fortunately I saved the anon's hint as a picture. Anon, respond if you read the request.

In the backyard of Night Raven College, a quiet serenity always reigned, as if the very air held its breath in respectful silence. In a secluded corner of the garden, beneath a time-darkened arch entwined with grapevines, Ace sat, lazily swinging his leg. His robe was carelessly open, and his hair was tousled by the gentle spring breeze. Beside him – she was there. A girl from another world, so down-to-earth and direct in this place steeped in magic and strict rules.

He cast fleeting glances at her, pretending to be engrossed in shuffling the cards in his hands. In reality, he watched her read, her head bent over the book, her lips moving silently in focused concentration.

To him, she seemed like a strawberry cheesecake – airy, light, and yet utterly stunning. His fingers seemed to remember the taste of her laughter on their own: a little whipped, a little cheeky, and dizzyingly sweet. Their love didn't need formalities or pompous words. It simply arose. Unexpectedly, like a lucky break on an exam he hadn't studied for. But here she was, and here he was – and between them hung a pause, filled not with silence, but with the sensation of a frozen world, gifting them these precious moments.

"You're looking again," she said, without lifting her gaze from the pages.

"And you're noticing again," he smirked, leaning back on his hands and admiring her profile. "Can't I admire the local beauties?"

She closed the book and turned to him. "You could at least pretend to be busy with something useful."

Ace chuckled, a lively spark flickering in his smile. He felt genuinely good. Truly light and carefree, because with her, he could be himself, not hiding behind sharp jokes and sarcasm.

"Honestly…" he began, "I never thought I'd meet someone like you. So… simple. Like…" He stumbled, searching for the right word, and suddenly blurted out, "Like apple cider."

She blinked in surprise. "Cider?"

"Yeah. The one you made yourself in the kitchen last month. A little tart, natural, with a light fizz. Nothing extra. Just… real."

Her eyes warmed. Ace rarely said anything directly. He usually hid his true feelings behind a mask of irony. But in those rare moments when his sincerity broke through this armor, it sounded especially genuine.

"Then you must be strawberry cheesecake," she said with a soft smile.

He raised an eyebrow. "Me? Why's that?"

"Because you're sweet, but you know too well how delicious you are. And sometimes you can give a real sugar rush."

He laughed. His laughter was deep, sincere, without a hint of pretense. And in his eyes flashed a usually hidden gratitude. For her being there. For accepting him as he was.

The pause between them lingered, but it wasn't awkward. It felt like a warm blanket on a cool evening. In this silence, there was no need for words. She simply looked at him, and he at her. And both knew: even if the world around them became chaotic and unpredictable again, they would still have this quiet garden, these casual words, and this elusive warmth that couldn't be expressed in words.

Ace, without breaking eye contact, reached out and lightly touched her hand. "If you're cider, I wouldn't mind getting drunk on you."

"You're incorrigible," she shook her head, but there wasn't the slightest hint of reproach in her voice.

"And you're already used to my antics," he added with a mischievous grin, intertwining their fingers.

The love between them wasn't a storm of passions; it didn't require loud vows and sacrifices. It was like homemade cider – simple, tart, alive. Or like a piece of cheesecake that you want to savor with small spoonfuls, prolonging the pleasure. And in this world full of magic, transformations, and oddities, it was their love – warm, earthy, understandable – that was the truest magic of all.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 2: HEAVEN CANNOT WAIT FOREVER

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He feels you shake. Earth-shattering, the feeling of you. Like you’re breaking the sky for him. It roots something deep inside him that wasn’t there before. Something blooming between violence and gauzy ecstasy. It knots his stomach until he breaks, too.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: smut (18+ mdni), virginity loss, protected sex (yay!!), fingering, satoru is annoying

ੈ✩ wc: 4.4k

ੈ✩ a/n: SMUT TIMEEEEE! one of my fav chapters just because it's so sweet. title is from the first taste by fiona apple. i'd love feedback <3 if you just comment about updates i will summon mahoraga on you.

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

July, 2008

In front of you, the Gojo estate sprawls out. It's oversized and sukiya-style, adorned with gardens full of hanashobu. When you were younger and more naive, you daydreamed that your wedding ceremony would happen in such a place. The idea makes you feel silly now.

You now find the gargantuan display of wealth a bit repulsive, despite growing up here. 

The emerging summer heat makes the back of your knees feel sticky already. You had opted for a simple shirt dress, light and linen, and robin’s egg blue, thinking Satoru would like the color. 

God, this was stupid. He wouldn’t be paying attention to the color of your dress — he’d be much more concerned with what’s underneath. The thought makes your stomach flip, birds and wasps flurrying in your diaphragm. The kiss you’d shared hadn’t left your mind for days. You wonder if it was the same for him.

You're surprised that he's there to greet you himself. Otherwise, you would've let yourself in. He smiles at you, looking unfairly handsome in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s not wearing his sunglasses. 

“Look who decided to show up.”

You hum in greeting, brushing past him to move toward the stairs.

“Eager, are we?” he teases. “You didn’t even get me flowers.”

“You have a whole garden of them outside.”

“They’re much prettier when you arrange them, Twigs.” 

He cocks his head to the side, eyes lingering on an ikebana sitting on the foyer table. You had arranged it last week. You sigh, immediately regretting your decision until he pushes you lightly on the small of your back. His cologne is sharp under your nose. Has he always smelled this good? 

It didn’t occur to you that Satoru would ever wear cologne. He’d always smelled like plain soap, white musk. Boyish sweat after he’d play in the courtyard with you.

You follow him up the long staircase and into his bedroom. It’s plain as it always was — neutral colors and traditional paintings on the walls, courtesy of his mother. The only difference is that a king-sized bed replaces the tatami mat he’d preferred as a child.

You try not to look at him, instead, inspecting the bookshelves. You'd read half of his stack by the time you were twelve. Since then, it seemed that Satoru didn't continue an interest in reading the same way you had. 

There’s a small photo peeking out of a book — you recognize the top of your head. As you pull it out, you see the two of you grinning in front of a lake. You are eight years old, freshly toothless, and your pigtails are unruly.

“I miss your braids, you know,” Satoru murmurs. He laughs when you jump a bit at the realization of his presence. The coolness of his palm settles on the nape of your neck. You used to tease him about that — how he’d stalk the hallways like a cat and catch you off guard. You thought he’d ought to wear a bell. 

“You just liked tugging on them to piss me off.”

“You’re cute when you’re pissed off,” he shrugs. 

You wonder if he can hear the echoing brag of your heart. You can’t blame the heat for how you feel, with his house being the perfect temperature of all times. He’s so casual in his T-shirt compared to you. You’re briefly self-conscious about whether your dress is tacky or garish. Too feminine with its floral pattern. You hadn’t worn the thing in years.

As if he’s read your mind, he calls your name and tells you that he thinks you look pretty today. He beckons you into his lap again.

This time, you sit next to him, too anxious to touch yet. He smiles at you again, cat-like, but sweet. Not teasing in his usual manner. 

“You can kiss me, you know.”

“I— I know,” you frown. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Twigs?”

You close your eyes, pausing in front of his face as you notice his breathing get uneven. A subtle push forward makes you stop against a wall.

“You did not just use your Infinity—”

“Sorry,” Satoru laughs. “Still a little mad that you lied about your technique to me.”

You look at him with wide eyes, bottom lip trembling. Something between shame and self-effacement.

“I’m messing with you. Promise. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Despite that, there was never really any hiding from him. Even though you aren’t as close as you used to be, Satoru is somehow still intuitive to how you feel. It’s why he touches your jaw and curls a lock of your hair in between his fingers. He knows his gentle touch would make a shiver run down your spine.

He kisses you, finally. The way your mouth immediately parts to welcome him makes his stomach stir, a spark to ignite a fire. It’s curious and soft, and when he hears you mumble please when he pulls away, he succumbs completely. 

His hand settles on your waist, then your thigh. The crux behind your knee. He doesn’t want to move too quickly despite his desperate desire. Your sweet sounds are making him boil over. It’s all so delicate, hanging on by the thinnest thread, and he doesn’t want to scare you away like a timid animal.

You melt into him, grasping the front of his t-shirt with enough eagerness to surprise him. It occurred to you that you liked surprising him this way. You enjoyed getting him flustered. As you feel his warm palms smoothing the flesh of your thighs, the skirt of your dress is already bunched up.

The sound of him groaning in your mouth is addictive. Even more so when it’s your name between his lips.

“Satoru,” you whisper.

“Yes?”

“I–I want–”

Want you to eat me. Want to stay in your lap.

“Gone speechless already?” he teases, brushing your nose with his despite your glare. “You don’t have to be all shy with me.”

You’d imagined being in his lap like this before, warm and fervid. Dream-like. But it’s more real than anything else, especially when you can feel his hardness underneath you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

Satoru’s voice is strained, raspy. There’s an unsung hymn inside of you somewhere, some cruel and divine power deep within that wants to tear him apart. Hearing him like this makes your pulse quicken.

“I want to,” you whisper. His eyes widen, snowy lashes flickering in surprise as if he wasn’t the one to invite you over. As if he wasn’t the one who had beckoned you into his lap and kissed you first. He’d argue that you’d tempted him if he had the strength to tease you again.

You have the urge to hide inside of him, consume him. There’s a question in the flicker of your eyes when you touch his inner thigh. Your eyes are wide. 

Satoru makes a sharp inhale. He’s nervous – more nervous than he’s ever been in this kind of situation. It isn’t like he does this often despite his reputation. With you, it’s something entirely unprecedented. 

“Kiss me again,” he says. You do. For a bit, you let the feeling of him wash over you, and then you try something new. Your teeth are at his neck. The nip of your incisors against his throat makes him groan, the sound inciting something wild in you.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod. 

He doesn’t undress you, not yet. He merely snakes an arm in between your thighs, gasping at the wetness that’s gathered at your core. Fuck.

“You can lean into me,” he rasps into your hair. “Make yourself feel good.”

You mewl – a helpless sound. A small rock of your hips grants you friction against his hand, but it’s not enough. 

“You’re teasing me,” you whine.

“But you like it, don’t you?” 

He smiles. Devilish again, like his usual self. He knows you’re a bit repressed, like him, but in a way that’s reserved. He wants to see you come undone, enjoys the begging tone of your moans too much.

Satoru skims his fingers along your thigh, wetting the skin with your slick. He pulls your underwear to the side to find your clit. The pressure of his fingers against it makes you shiver.

Your eyes close as you sigh. You can’t look at him – can’t remind yourself that he can see your face like this, falling apart in small breaths. The coil in your stomach aches.

“Tell me how it feels.” His voice is low, his breath tickling just beneath your ear. 

“Good,” you reply, breathless. “Feels really good.”

He wants to ask for permission, but he can’t help it. The sight of your mouth parting in pleasure is so much. He wants to see how your face contorts when he touches you in different places. You have always been his favorite toy, haven’t you?

Without warning, he pushes an index finger into you, stifling a groan at your reaction. 

“Want more? How do you like it?”

“I don’t– I don’t know?”

“You don’t touch yourself, Twigs?”

“Satoru, just– oh.”

You’re so wet around him. So tight. His cock throbs at the idea of being inside you. 

“Another one?”

“Mhm.”

“Open your eyes. Want you to look at me.”

Your lashes flutter as you gasp into his mouth. He looks at you intently, mesmerized. Your hips jerk, grinding into his lap when he uses his thumb to circle your clit again, this time in a steady rhythm with two fingers inside your cunt.

Satoru exhales into your mouth, his jaw slack and moaning softly as if he’s being stimulated as much as you are. In a way, he is, from the friction of you in his lap. He thinks he might just cum in his pants from watching you. He’s never been this pent-up before.

You finish with a quiet gasp, clutching Satoru’s shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. When you pull back, he’s wonderstruck, eager to kiss your cheeks and your jaw and the space above your collarbone. His fingers, still wet with your slick, enter his mouth. He curses softly. You flush at the sight of his lips all dewy with the taste of you.

“Can I take this off?” He pulls at the hem of your dress. The sound of his voice shakes you back to Earth.

You nod, helping him slip the fabric off of your body.

It’s almost as terrible as it is tantalizing to be so vulnerable in front of him. Bare enough for him to make his mark on you, claiming you forever. You suppose he had done that long ago without you realizing.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he coos. He soothes a palm over your waist.

“Naked, you mean?”

Satoru laughs. Eyes hazy, summer blue. “Yes. But you’ve always been beautiful.”

You want to retaliate with something, ease your nerves with a joke, but the tenderness of his voice renders you speechless.

“Your turn,” you breathe, tugging at his sleeve. 

When he rids himself of his shirt and sweatpants, you notice he’s as pale as moonlight. Smooth porcelain and filled-out muscle. Rigid. What happened to the lanky boy that used to pull on your braids?

“Got a staring problem?” he goads.

“Shut up.”

“Maybe if you lay back for me.”

You swallow. You listen to him. He looks at you, your hair fanning out on his pillow, your body bare and ripe for the taking. Satoru sits in front of you and coaxes your legs apart to kiss your knees, the back of your thighs. You mewl when he bites, nipping at you the same way you’d done to his neck.

“Look at you. So fucking pretty. Wanna eat you out.”

You have half a mind to say thank you, but the moment passes. You’re too fixated on the way his eyes trail down your body. How the brevity of his words makes you feel flayed alive. 

When he kisses you a little too close to your core, you whine in protest and pull at his hair in a fit. He looks up at you, feigning dejection.

“I’m sorry, baby. What is it that you want, hm?”

Baby. Baby.

“Come kiss me.”

And he does, but it’s more violent this time. He doesn’t hold back on showing you how much he wants you, how badly he’s obsessed with you after seeing you fall apart so sweetly for him. The supercut of it will reel in his head long after this. He’s sure of it.

Satoru laves his tongue over the places on your neck that he’s bitten, and descends to your chest until he hooks his teeth around your nipple. He groans at the sound of your moan. His hands are still roaming, palms gripping the taut flesh of your thighs as he grinds lightly into your body enough for you to feel his hardness. 

He wants to give you more, so he teases the swollen nub of your clit again with his fingertips and is delighted to feel that you’re even wetter than before – if that was even possible.

“Satoru!”

“Yes?”

Your breathing is so irregular that you can’t put your desire into words. Not without it tainting you with shame, at least. You plead with big eyes, but Satoru wants to tease you a little more. You wonder if it’s in his nature to be so cruel.

“Use your words, Twigs. What is it? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles, kissing your temple. “You want a condom?”

You close your eyes, nodding, trying to savor the way he makes you feel and not the terrifying vulnerability that rots in the pit of your stomach. It’s all too much, much more than you had dreamt out, but you’re here now. You know there’s no going back. You know that when you open your eyes to see his soaking in so much light, looking at you with adoration, you wouldn’t want to go back anyway.

He’s quick to prod your entrance again. You nod slightly to permit him, clutching him like a lifeline. 

“Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses you hard, consuming you as a distraction as the head of him enters you little by little. You’re wet enough to not feel any resistance. When he’s pushed to the hilt of you, he moans against your mouth. He drinks up your exhale, trying not to consider it a painful one as he runs his fingers through your hair lovingly.

It’s a strange pain. Something of an ache in the core of you, twisting at your insides in a way that also feels like crushing ripe fruit. A delicate sensation as much as it is rough. Satoru is gentle in his movements, brushing your hair out of your face. He looks at you with utmost admiration. 

“Is that— is that good?” you whisper.

“I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” he says. You feel the rumble of his laugh against your chest. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little. But it—it feels nice.”

He slides his cock back to thrust into you again, slowly. It’s almost languid, lazy the way he slips back into you like the two of you have just woken up from a dream. 

Satoru wants to be intentional with how he fucks you. Even within these past minutes, he’s convinced he’s gotten your reactions down to memory. He’ll be able to touch you in all the right ways the next time you fall into his bed. But if he’s intentional, if he fucks you the way he truly wants to, he’s worried it’ll be too much. Everything he feels for you is too much at the moment.

“Relax for me.” His voice is smooth as butter. Your reaction is a hot knife. You notice that for the first time in a long time, in front of you, his face is blushing pink. It makes your walls tighten around him.

He rolls his hips against yours. It’s ecstasy—the feeling of you encapsulating him in lust, in softness. The drawn-out whine that tumbles out of your mouth makes it all worthwhile as Satoru thrusts with the smallest bit of intention. Softly, lovingly. After a bit, his length begins to make you feel full without all the pain. Skin kissing skin. Insides fluttering.

You don’t notice the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. The pain subsides, but the pleasure stokes the fire in your stomach until it devours you completely. 

He hitches your right leg higher, ankle past his shoulder. He feels so fucking reckless, but he’ll satiate you the way you deserve—sweet and painless and passionate. The way your bottom lip trembles is making it so fucking difficult for him to stay gentle, though.

He moans your name and it reminds you of yourself. Of your body, of inhabiting it and being consumed by your best friend who is not your best friend. And you love him, you realize, but it’s a worthless feat to think about it too much during your first time. You can at least play pretend while Satoru is inside of you, as he looks at you like he’s the one in love with you.

He bites at your neck as he ruts into you a little faster. He’s so deep that you think you might go brainless—dizzied with pleasure, overflowing with thrill.

“So fucking tight,” Satoru groans. He pushes up his body now, settles himself on his knees as he holds your thighs firmly. “Look at you. My pretty girl.”

“Satoru—” you whine, feeling too exposed, too bare with him hovering over you like this—“Oh, my god—”

You’re pushed over the edge when he thumbs at your clit again, your cunt tightening around him at the feeling. You look beautiful like this. Tears of an angel. It distracts him a bit, how pretty you look, until he realizes the power he holds over you. Knowing that he’s taking.

“Too rough, baby?” he coos, leaning over to kiss your cheeks, licking up your salty tears. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “S’good. Feels good.”

He’s pushed against you again, head buried into your neck. He pulls at your hair gently, angling your face to look at him. Noses touching. Mouths sharing air.

“Gonna cum,” you whine into a kiss. He groans at your admission, pulling you taut against him as he adjusts you both to your sides. He lifts your leg over his, rolling his hips harder, and the angle makes you cry out.

He feels you shake. Earth-shattering, the feeling of you. Like you’re breaking the sky for him. It roots something deep inside him that wasn’t there before. Something blooming between violence and gauzy ecstasy. It knots his stomach until he breaks, too.

“Fuck,” he curses. His eyes are wide open, mooning at your face as you cum, and he can feel his release burying inside you to the hilt. 

Even after you’re both spent, he’s greedy, still hard inside of you as he continues. Lazy movements, half in tandem with your ragged breaths. He grins at you then, breathless at your blurry gaze. Kisses you sweetly like a shared promise.

The comfortable silence falls between you as you swap kisses. You hum against his lips, caressing his jaw. Your eyes blink at the sight of rain outside his bedroom window. A light drizzle despite the orange sunlight.

“Hm,” Satoru purrs. “We brought the rain.”

“What, with an orgasm?”

“I’m pretty sure you had more than one.”

“You’re so obnoxious,” you mutter. 

“And still inside you,” he grins. 

He pulls out when you make a grumbled sound, contrasting the melody of his laugh. He has half the mind to take a picture of you like this, sprawled in his bed like a painting. He’d keep the image of it in his wallet if he could. 

Instead, he goes to the bathroom to bring you a warm, wet rag and cleans you up. He’s able to catch his breath as he rubs his hands over your bare thighs. You’re changed, glowing, yet your face is so familiar. The same one he’s been fond of for years. The shift inside him aches.

Satoru isn’t sure what to do. Usually, he’s inebriated at this point, and the sex closes with a heavy, dreamless sleep after midnight. The sun shower outside has calmed down, barely there, and afternoon sunlight floods the room. He’s more awake than ever with your presence. He’s surprised you haven’t gotten up to get dressed or made some excuse about leaving. He realizes he doesn’t want you to.

It feels normal when he falls into bed with you after just touching your skin, slips into a sweet afternoon nap. Hours later, you make him dinner. He makes you cum again.

September, 2008

You don’t understand Satoru’s affinity for sugar. You would think he had an addictive personality the way he consumed sweets – you’re surprised he isn’t addicted to something worse, like cigarettes. 

Lately, he’s been complaining about craving something sweet before he fucks you. He licks his lips as you share the same mango-flavored popsicle in the courtyard of his estate. Juice dribbling down your chin. It doesn’t take him long to get you knee-deep in the grass. He teases you, tells you your pussy is sweeter. The sweetest.

Other times, you have quiet nights. He watches movies with you in your room and has sex with you before you sleep. Over a few months, Satoru gets accustomed to how you sound when he touches you until he knows you inside out. Expert in the map of your body. Of the pillow-soft places he can tease to make you cum hard.

But he doesn’t take you out after. Or before. It’s always a rendezvous, the rest of the world dead to the both of you as you consume each other. A paradise restricted to a bed. He gets you so dizzy that it doesn’t bother you. He kisses you sweetly on his way out to see his friends. He kisses you sweetly before he’s quick to slip out your door or send you out on his own.

It’s perfect for him. You’re perfect — you feel it. 

Satoru likes that you’re so pliable. He can say anything he wants to you and you’ll take it.  You’ll even moan for it.

Sometimes he can be mean, sometimes he has tears rolling down your face, but he always kisses them away. He likes that you let him cum in your mouth. 

He especially likes that you’re good company outside of the sex. You’re the only mind that gets him besides Suguru. It’s why he likes spending time with you when everyone else is busy. Even if he’s practicing his techniques and you’re splayed on the grass, reading a book. 

It’s what you’re doing now. He’s convinced you’re trying to tempt him today. At the moment you’re wearing the pleated skirt from your school uniform, despite it being summer break. The July heat made it unbearable to wear pants. It was laundry day, too, but Satoru insisted on having you come over.

“Come play with me, Twigs,” he calls after you. You look like a dream in your little tank and little skirt. Bare legs with imprints of grass patterns.

“I’m reading.”

“Just because you have a healing technique doesn’t mean that you can’t practice combat.”

“Shoko doesn’t,” you scoff.

“Shoko is going to cheat her way through med school. C’mere, I’m lonely,” Satoru whines. 

You’re not as good at fighting as you were when you were children, able to at least wrestle with Satoru and have equal footing. Even then, you didn’t have enough cursed energy to fight like a true sorcerer like Satoru. 

But you are getting the hang of it, bleeding cursed energy that flickered a gauzy aura around you. Satoru wonders if it’s just his six eyes that make you look so beautiful in front of him. So soft. 

He ends up pushing his weight on you by the end, anyway. He revels in the way you groan, annoyed at him for pinning you down. He knows what’s on your mind from the way you lift your hips for him almost involuntarily. It’s how he has you melt in his grasp, skirt hiked over your stomach as he bullies his cock into you. You’d been asking for it since you looked at him, your teasing eyes peeking from above your book.

He finishes on the small of your back like he always does. Licks over the hickey under your collarbone, too.

You ground him. At least as much as Suguru does, but differently. He’s clear-headed after he cums, laying with you skin to skin. It reminds him that he’s human rather than a god-like prodigy. He keeps you like a pet, never wanting to let you leave him, insisting on stroking through your hair like you’re a cat. 

“This has to be some form of kidnapping,” you mutter, one afternoon in his bed. He’d kept you for at least 36 hours, this time. You would never hear the end of it from your mother.

“I can always go to your house.”

“I wonder if this is codependent,” you say. You scrunch your nose as he nuzzles his to yours.

“Nah,” Satoru hums lazily. 

“You don’t think so, Satoru?”

“There’s a time limit for me to hang out with my best friend?”

His quip makes your heart pang. You ignore it. 

He’ll release you when he feels like it. He knows well enough that you’d rather stay in his bed all day, anyway. He’s too wrapped up in you to think about how it may be cruel.

You stay long enough that your staycation with Satoru bleeds into his usual weekend plans. This includes a movie night with Suguru, so you join.

Satoru picks something raunchy, of course. Something horrific and exploitative in a way that draws attention from its taboo. A cinematic car wreck that has your head spinning. 

He whispers in your ear, teasing you, calling you baby whenever Suguru goes to the bathroom. He has his hand on your thigh, fingertips under the blanket, and close enough to your core to make you dripping wet. 

And then, as the movie progresses, you tuck your body towards Suguru, who shares your distaste for such violence. Even if it’s fictional. As Satoru watches his worlds collide and sees the way Suguru’s fox eyes light up at your banter, something odd flickers inside him. 

When the new semester starts in the fall, he doesn’t look at you as he walks past you.

[ghoulsverse]

Chapter Four: Something Ain't Right

[Summary] "I put you in the spotlight, You can tell me what you want but it's all lies, Knock, knock, who's there, it's your whole life, I don't do three strikes only one time." 2.1k words | [Tags] Angst, Sad!Wanda, Mind Control

Chapter Index

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The mug in your hand is empty. Still warm, but dry. You frown at it.

“I don’t even remember drinking this,” you mutter, turning it slightly. The glaze catches the morning light in a soft gold sheen. “Weird.”

Wanda looks up from where she’s slicing fruit by the window. Her eyes linger a second too long.

“Maybe you were just half-asleep,” she says lightly, though unease settles deep in her stomach. She watches you for a moment longer, watching your dead stare as you look almost through the mug.

You shrug, setting the mug down and smiling at Wanda. “Probably. I do weird stuff in the morning all the time, I just need more sleep.”

That gets a breath of laughter out of her, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She watches you a little too carefully as you move around the kitchen—grabbing a banana, opening a drawer, then pausing. Brows furrowed. You don't really know where your mind goes, just the sound of static in your head, but Wanda sees it. The blank look in your eyes again, they're becoming more and more frequent. 

She has half a mind to say that it's her fault. She thinks it's entirely her fault, her proximity to you causing more and more of the control over your mind to crack.

“Looking for something?” she asks.

“No, just…” You trail off, staring at the drawer. “I thought the spoons were in here.”

“They are,” she says, gently. “That’s the right one.”

You glance down. Sure enough… spoons. Right where they should be. You laugh under your breath.

“Okay, wow. Maybe I’m actually losing it.”

Wanda says nothing. Just peels another slice off the apple and folds it into the bowl like it matters. Neither of you had discussed or even brought up the almost kiss that happened a week ago. She doesn't want to think about it, to think about how much she missed having someone close.

To acknowledge how much she misses her family... She can't think too hard about it. First her parents, then her brother, then the man she loved, twice. Her children.

You lean against the counter, chewing idly. “Probably just didn’t sleep well. I had some kind of dream, I think. Can’t remember it, though.”

Her hand stills.

“Was it a nightmare?” she asks, too quickly.

“No.” You shake your head. “It wasn’t bad. Just… off. Like I woke up halfway through a conversation I wasn’t having.”

She hums in response, something tight in her expression. You don’t notice. You’re already moving on, eyes catching the soft glint of sun on the garden outside.

“I might take a walk later,” you say casually. “Stretch my legs. It’s nice out.”

Wanda hesitates. “Just… stay close, okay?”

You blink at her, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. You grin, letting out the softest of chuckles. “What, worried I’ll get lost in our very intimidating suburban maze of a neighborhood?”

Wanda’s smile doesn’t falter, but she doesn’t laugh either. You don’t press her.

“I’ll be fine.” You wave at her as you walk out the door.

But behind you, she watches the way your fingers tap against the counter like you’re trying to remember a rhythm you never learned.

Without another word she walked to the guest room and closed the door. She can't take it anymore, watching you is the worst kind of punishment. It's friendly, you're kind.

It's domestic.

It's everything she wanted with Vision, with Billy and Tommy.

She presses a hand to her chest, an attempt to calm her breathing as she tries to analyze her own thoughts. Is that why the control is cracking?

Because as much as she thinks you deserve to be free, her guilt wants you to have your own life unburdened by her mistakes… something deep down inside of her wants to keep you kind. And Wanda knows the moment she breaks you free, you'll hate her.

For now, she just needs to calm her emotions and wait for you to return…

The chime above the door jingles softly as you step into Kale Kare.

Warmth greets you first… lavender and something faintly spiced, like clove or cinnamon. It wraps around you the way memories sometimes do, without your permission.

“Welcome back,” Jen calls from behind the counter, already smiling like she’s been expecting you.

You hesitate. “Back?”

Jen finishes lining up a row of little potion bottles… skincare, technically, but something about them feels older, deeper. “You stopped in just a few days ago. Not for long. Said you needed more of the night balm.”

You blink. “Right. Sorry, my brain’s been a little scrambled lately.”

She just nods, like scrambled is the most normal thing she’s heard all day.

“It happens,” she says gently. “Especially when we’re… adjusting.”

That word hooks something strange in your chest. You shake it off and gesture toward the shelves. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for, honestly.”

Jen rounds the counter with a quiet grace, already holding a small jar. Clarity Balm, the label says. Beneath it, in smaller print: To steady the echo.

“You liked this one last time,” she says, holding it out. “It’s grounding. Helps the mind... stay where it belongs.”

You give a short laugh, even as the back of your neck prickles. “Sounds like exactly what I need. I swear there’s nothing but static in there lately.”

She doesn’t push, doesn’t prod. Just watches you as you uncap the jar and take in the scent… earthy, warm, nostalgic.

“It smells like…” You trail off. You don’t know what it smells like. You only know that it makes you feel still.

“Like something old,” Jen offers. “Like something you forgot on purpose.”

Your eyes snap up to hers, and for a split second, something passes between you. Her gaze is steady… too steady.

You smile quickly. “You’re a good saleswoman.”

“It’s in the trade,” she says. And then, softly: “Sometimes it’s not about remembering everything. It’s about holding on to what feels real.”

You nod, swallowing down something inexplicable. “I’ll take it. Maybe some calming lavender cream for my friend also.”

“Oh? A friend?”

“Yes, my friend Wanda. I'm sure you remember her. She's been staying with me while she rebuilds her house, poor thing.”

She wraps the jars in tissue with careful hands. No receipt. No price. Just a soft murmur as she hands it back.

“Be careful, and kind to yourself. Even when the edges blur.”

You glance at her again. There’s something behind her eyes. Not pity. Not concern. Something older. Watchful.

“Thanks.” you say.

And as you step back into the sunlight, you feel like she knows more about you than you do.

The sun feels too bright when you step outside.

You squint up at it, as if expecting it to blink out and prove this isn’t real. But it just hangs there, golden and indifferent, and the breeze nudges your jacket like it’s trying to steer you somewhere.

You start walking again. Not anywhere in particular.

Your fingers tighten around the tiny jar in your pocket. Clarity Balm. You hadn’t planned to buy anything, but it felt… necessary. Like instinct. Or habit. Or both.

You glance at a storefront window and catch your reflection in the glass—just a glimpse before it warps under the light. You pause, staring.

There’s nothing wrong with it.

But there’s something… off.

You tilt your head. So does the reflection. You blink first.

The wind shifts. A soft chill skates across your shoulders.

You keep walking.

It feels like the reflection doesn't belong to you, you see yourself but for a moment you wonder, whose clothes are these? Who's perfume are you wearing?

It almost feels like an out of body experience, one that you shake away like your brain is an Etch A Sketch.

You’ll deal with it later.

Meanwhile, Wanda had decided to go continue the work on her house. Most of the framing and insulation was done and there was a roof, still had a ways to go though. The scent of sawdust and old paint clung to the air, settling in Wanda’s lungs like a warning.

She was halfway through recovering the insulation and getting the walls in place when she heard it. 

Jen’s boots clicked softly against the floorboards.

Wanda didn’t turn around. “You could’ve at least pretended to knock.”

“I figured I’d be more welcome than a memory glitch.”

Wanda’s jaw clenched. “She told you I was here?”

Jen stepped into the room like she owned it. She didn’t answer the question directly.

“She said you were back in town, rebuilding.” A pause. “I didn’t realize that meant mind-sculpting entire realities.”

Wanda set the brush down a little too hard.

“I’m working on that.”

“No you’re not.” Jen circled the room, her gaze drifting over half-covered walls. “She’s unraveling. Smiling through it, of course… she’s sweet like that. Keeps thinking the problem is her, not the fact that she’s living inside your idea of peace.”

“Undoing her mind will take time.”

Jen raised an eyebrow. “She wouldn’t have needed it in the first place if it wasn’t for you.”

Wanda finally looked at her. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done?”

“I think you know exactly what you’re doing. That’s what makes it worse.”

The silence between them was sharp now. Wanda tried to hold onto something steady, but everything felt like it was tilting. 

Jen ran a finger along the edge of the banister. “You ever wonder what happens when she stops brushing it off? When the wrong memories start to stick?”

“I’ll fix it before that.”

Jen smiled, cold and too polite. “You’d better.”

There was no warmth left in her voice.

“Because if you don’t,” she added, “she’s going to shatter. And if she does… I will not let you pick up the pieces.”

Wanda’s throat tightened. Her magic buzzed under her skin, coiling defensively.

“You’re threatening me.”

“I’m warning you.” Jen took a step closer. “You think this is about reconciliation. About guilt. About you. But she’s not your redemption arc, Wanda. She’s a person. A good one.”

Another pause. This one quieter. More dangerous.

“If you really want to fix things, you’ll walk away before you make it worse.”

Jen didn’t wait for a response.

She walked off the lot, leaving Wanda to her own thoughts.

You were home.

Wanda hadn’t expected that. Somehow, she'd pictured coming back to an empty living room and time to gather herself before you saw her. But instead, the door creaked open and there you were… folding a blanket on the couch like nothing was wrong. Like the world hadn't just tilted beneath her.

Her hands tightened on the doorknob for a moment too long before she let go.

“You’re back,” you said, smiling, like it was that simple. “How’s the house looking?”

“Good,” Wanda replied, quietly. “Got the plumbing and wiring down.”

Your presence was grounding. That should’ve helped. But Jen’s words still echoed like a splintered mirror in her mind.

She’s going to shatter. You don’t get to fix her if you’re the one breaking her.

Wanda stepped further into the room, her fingers brushing lightly against the wall. Solid. Real. But how long would it stay that way?

“That’s good!” You didn’t look at her, just kept casual conversation.

Wanda glanced at you. You looked at peace… but that peace was borrowed. Stolen. Stitched together with threads of illusion.

Then, with all the kindness of a long-time friendship she didn’t deserve, you said, “I got you something from town. Calming lotion. You’ve been uneasy lately.”

Wanda’s breath caught for a fraction of a second.

You didn’t see it, though. You just looked pleased. Calm. Holding the little jar out to her like it was nothing more than a thoughtful gift. Wanda managed a smile, but it cracked a little at the edges.

“Thank you.” Wanda said softly, stepping into the kitchen just to move… to keep her hands from shaking.

She didn’t hear your footsteps behind her until you spoke again.

“Hey.”

Wanda turned.

“Like I said before, it’s okay to not be okay sometimes.”

She moved back to the couch, sat beside you… close, but not touching. She didn’t trust herself not to hold on too tight. To beg for something she had no right to ask for.

You reached out first, fingers brushing hers. A simple gesture.

It nearly undid her.

“You deserve kindness.” You whispered.

She swallowed hard.

No, she didn’t.

Her mind was still full of Jen’s voice. Of what came next.

And in the silence that followed, Wanda could feel the illusion cracking like the foundation in a building, and one day… that building will come down.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[retrowitchinghour]

(Arthur storms into the physician’s chambers, looking furious. Merlin is casually eating an apple.)

Arthur: Merlin! Explain yourself!

Merlin (chewing): Oh, this should be good. What have I allegedly done this time?

Arthur: My armor. My polished, pristine armor. It smells like flowers.

Merlin (grinning): Oh, you noticed! Lovely, isn’t it? Lavender and rosewater. Very fancy.

Arthur: Why does my armor smell like a perfumed noblewoman?!

Merlin: Because, dearest sire, I may have replaced your usual oil with something a bit more… fragrant.

Arthur (fuming): And why would you do that?!

Merlin (shrugging): You called me a “smelly peasant” yesterday. I just thought, wow, wouldn’t it be ironic if the king smelled nicer than everyone else?

Arthur (pinching the bridge of his nose): I have a tournament today, Merlin. A tournament. Do you have any idea how humiliating it will be to fight while smelling like a damn flower garden?!

Merlin: Oh, come on. Maybe the enemy will be too relaxed by your calming aroma to even swing at you. Consider it strategic.

Arthur (glaring): You’re going to polish every single piece of my armor properly. Right now.

Merlin (sighing, tossing the apple away): Fine. But don’t be surprised if I accidentally mix in some vanilla next time.

Arthur: MERLIN!

[thesimulationswarm]

Garden of Earthly Delights - one shot

sub!Joel Miller x f!dom!reader

A/N: I've been sick and sort of in a feverish fugue state for a couple of days and I wrote this. Definitely inspired by reading this excellent sub!Joel fic by @haylzcyon, but it turned out quite a bit darker. So, welcome to my horny fever dream I guess? Summary: Joel gets dommed by a bratty shopgirl he meets in the Boston QZ and discovers a very unexpected side of himself Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 3.5k Warnings/tags: no use of y/n, hard dom!reader, irresponsible dom behavior that would be abusive irl (don't dom people you meet on the street kids. And for god's sake, use active consent and a safe word), reader described as young and has hair, slapping, spitting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, premature ejaculation, cum eating, praise, degradation, pet names (good boy, baby boy, kitten, mama), submissive produce washing

Joel was tired, and hungry, and he wanted to go home. At home he had half a bottle left of some dark moonshine that approximated whiskey, and a day off tomorrow to sleep through its aftereffects. But his cupboards were otherwise empty, and he knew he needed to lay in some supplies.

Unfortunately, it was the end of first shift and half of the goddamn QZ was thinking the same thing. The line snaking up to the counter at the ration shop was moving slower than he even thought possible, and he shifted irritably from side to side. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to stand that didn’t make his whole body hurt.

Even more maddening, only one person was working the counter today. He was sympathetic with operations being short staffed, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He could see right past the greasy hair of the young guy doling out food, and another person was back there, just leaning against the wall. Looking bored.

He watched you as you idly checked your nails. He watched you as you ran your fingers through your hair. He watched you cock one hip to the side and lean down to pull a shiny red apple from a burlap sack, then toss it loosely back and forth between your hands. Like you had all the time in the goddamn world.

You were beautiful.

You were young.

You weren’t bothered one bit by the grumbling line of customers stretching down the street.

He fucking hated you.

Finally, he reached the front, throwing down a thick sheaf of ration cards. “Two loaves a’ bread. Cooking oil. And a couple apples,” he grunted out.

“Sorry, out of apples,” the gormless kid answered. Behind him, he watched as you lifted the smooth red fruit to your lips and bit down, hard, the flesh giving way with a gratifying crunch. You noted with satisfaction that it was a particularly good apple— tart, sweet, crisp.

The shop boy saw Joel glaring and shrugged. “Last one.” Joel looked over at where you stood again, one knee bent with your foot pressed oh-so-casually against the cinderblock wall. Beside you, the burlap sack bulged with the shape of a good dozen round, suspiciously apple-sized lumps. 

A thin rivulet of juice dripped out from the fruit in your hand, sliding down the curve of your wrist. You saw him watching you, and you bent your head to run your tongue along your skin, lapping up every last, sweet drop.

You liked the way he was looking at you. An older guy, gray streaking through his dark hair and down his stubbled jawline. But fucking built, the solid shape of his shoulders stretching out the worn chambray of his work shirt. His eyes were narrowed, his strong brow pinched. The cut of his jaw practically vibrating with tension.

He wanted to kill you. He also, definitely, wanted to fuck you. Maybe both at the same time. And below all of that simmering ferociousness, there was a hint of something else in his big brown eyes. Something that definitely interested you.

He’d been halfway home when a FEDRA sweep forced him back in the direction of the shops. He wasted a good hour waiting for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds in body armor to “clear the area,” then finally got back on his way.

He was deep in thought, thinking about a smuggling trip he was planning for late next week. Wondering if the soldier he was bribing for intel was too far gone on oxy to be reliable anymore. He didn’t want a repeat of last November, inches away from being gunned down as his crew sprinted across what was supposed to be an unguarded field at the edge of town.

So he didn’t see you coming until you were only a couple yards in front of him, walking home yourself— bag of apples slung over your shoulder.

When his eyes flicked up, finally, you’d stopped walking and were standing there in a wide stance with one hand on your hip. You saw the way his eyes widened briefly, then narrowed again, shining darkly as you watched him watching you. You ran your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, and his gaze followed its slow swirl.

Then you reached into your bag and pulled out an apple. You gave your arm a desultory swing and let it loose. It bounced to the ground, rolling toward his boots, then came to a stop just an inch away from him.

He looked at the apple.

He looked at you.

“Thought you might like a taste.”

The loathing that poured over his features was so intense that for a moment, you thought you might’ve misread things. But no, you could see it there in his face again. That bloom of need.

This poor, beautiful man needed to be taken care of.

And sure enough, you watched as he crouched down there in the street to pick up the apple. You watched as he straightened himself up, his knees crackling audibly.

“Good. Now take a bite.”

The apple, tasty as it was sure to be, had just rolled across the godforsaken ground of Boston QZ. Across dust and ash and human detritus, ground down to a smudging blackness that covered every surface here. He didn’t even know why he’d picked the thing up, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to put his mouth on it.

He shook his head, lip curling in a sneer.

“Don’t think so, honey.”

You tutted softly, walking forward to close the gap between you. He held the apple down at one side, the other hand hooked into his belt loop. Shoulders squaring up to you as you neared. Even as he was doing it, he felt like a fool. What exactly did he have to prove to this bratty little shopgirl? And why wasn’t he walking away?

“That’s really too bad,” you said, letting your words drip slowly from your mouth. “I thought you were gonna be a good boy for me.”

You were right in front of him now, close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened.

“‘Cause I know how to take really good care of good boys.”

Joel closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t understand why, but his cock had swollen to half-mast just from crouching down to pick up that apple while you stood over him. And every time you spoke he felt more warmth pooling in his groin. He wasn’t sure if he was going to have to pay for what you were offering, or if you’d do it for free. But he knew he wanted it, unexpectedly, very badly.

He clenched his hand around the smooth skin of the fruit, and against his conscious judgement he felt his arm lifting it up toward his face.

You watched him moving, his eyes still closed, a smile slowly spreading across your face. As the fruit approached his gently parting lips, you reached up to grab him by the wrist, stilling him. You could feel the jump of his pulse below the rough skin.

“Not so fast, boy.” His eyes blinked open, their soft brown blown out to black. “I think since you’re being so good, we can go back to your place and get that apple nice and clean for you. And then you can show me how pretty you are when you eat.”

His place was nicer than many, a handful of rooms that were worn but clean. Functional furniture, a radio, a shelf with books. He clearly was doing okay for himself. The ones who needed this the most usually were.

He led you inside with a nervous energy that told you he hadn’t done this before. He’d surely brought women to his apartment, with those broad shoulders and that roughly handsome face. But never someone like you. And he wasn’t sure what to do. He stood in the living room, still holding the apple in one hand, his other hand clenching and opening at his side.

You looked him up and down. “What’s your name?”

You saw him hesitate. Wondering if this was a good idea— if you were a psychopath about to rob him or worse. But then he swallowed.

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you purred. “Do you have soap, Joel?” He looked blank for a second, then nodded. “Then go and wash that filthy apple off like a good boy.”

He paused again, and then gave a bewildered shake of his head before walking off toward the kitchen. There was a table in the room, across from an unmade bed. You pulled yourself up to sit on top of it, resting your feet on the seat of a battered old chair, and waited.

Joel returned after a minute, holding the now damp and glistening apple. He still wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Or his body. He held the fruit out to you, watched the bored way your eyes ran down his form as you sat there.

You made a soft tsk. “I see a speck of dirt. Better try again, boy.”

Joel looked at the spotless apple, then back at you. His heart felt like it was going to beat right through the wall of his chest. 

He hated you. 

And he wanted to hear you call him a good boy again. 

He stalked off to the kitchen and stood by the sink, carefully running the damp, soapy washrag back and forth across the smooth, hard peel. The apple was a deep red, flecked with burgundy. Joel held it up in the light that filtered through his window, turning it in circles to inspect for any blemish. When he was satisfied, he carried it carefully back to you. Despite himself, he could feel his brow draw up, his expression pleading, as he offered it again.

You gestured desultorily at the table beside you, and he set down the apple gently. You ignored it.

He was uncomfortably hard now, straining against the too-tight denim of his pants. You looked down at the thick shape of him, and raised a single eyebrow.

“I think you better take your clothes off, kitten. Before you make a mess of yourself.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You watched as he unbuttoned and zipped down his fly, the relief washing over his face as his cock sprung free and bobbed up toward his stomach. You had to fight to keep your face impassive as you took in the sight— you were impressed by the sheer size of him, thick and long and richly veined. The swollen head was stained almost purple as the blood pulsed through him, slick from where he’d been weeping against his boxers.

You had a good feeling about this one. A very good feeling.

“All of your clothes.”

You waited, arms crossed over your chest in a posture of impatience, as he slid all the way out of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the curving planes of his muscles and the dusting of dark hair. A little soft right around his tummy and thick thighs, the perfect counterpoint to everything that was hard and rigid about him.

He saw how you were looking at him, and he moved toward you, desperation painting his face.

“Please, baby— I—I need you,” he stuttered, his dark eyes wide and desperate.

Your hand slapped across his face, hard and fast.

He stumbled backward, stunned momentarily as his hand flew up to cup his stinging cheek.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

Part of him wanted to throw you against the wall, and part of him wanted to fall to his knees and beg your forgiveness.  He felt his cock twitch, growing somehow even harder, a thick bead of precum oozing from the slit.

You watched him, smirking. “I think you liked that, didn’t you, boy?”

A hot blush seeped up his neck as you looked down at his needy cock. He knew you were right. If you kept slapping him like that, looking at him like that, talking to him like that— he’d come harder than he ever had in his life.

“Now,” you said, pointing down at the floor. “Kneel for me.”

Joel lowered himself to the hardwood floor, unconcerned with how his knees were going to feel tomorrow. He watched as you pulled the fabric of your skirt up around your waist, revealing a thin pair of cotton panties, sopping wet where the fabric ran between your legs.

“See what you can do for me when you’re a good boy?” You ran a finger up and down along the slick cloth, ghosting over the shape of your slit.

Then he watched, mesmerized, as you slid the underwear down your legs. Leaving your pussy bare, drenched, and just out of reach.

God, you were perfect.

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he stared at you, desperate for a taste.

You smiled. “It looks like you’re ready to serve me already. And you’re very, very lucky today. Because I’m going to let you eat me out, if you just ask nicely. Are you ready to ask nicely?”

He nodded eagerly. You noted with satisfaction that his face was loosening— the jaw no longer so tensed, the deep furrow between his brows softening. He was relinquishing himself to you, little by little. You reached down with one finger and tipped his chin upward, to look into your face.

“Okay, sweet boy. You can ask me now.”

“Please, please let me eat your pretty pussy,” he spoke, his voice hoarse with need. His eyes, looking up at you, were all pupil— hungry pools of black.

You nodded appreciatively, then you reached your hands around to the back of his head and pulled him into you. Your fingers threaded through the thick, salt-and-pepper curls, holding him tightly in place as he began to lick. His beard was scratchy against your sensitive skin, but his lips were surprisingly soft.

You gave him directions— how hard to suck against your swollen clit, how fast to draw his tongue through your folds— and tugged him by the hair to adjust his angle. You could feel the vibration of him whimpering against you.

“Good boy,” you cooed down at him. “Eating that pussy so good for me.” And he was, following your every instruction, responding to the subtlest tap and tug. Like he was born to do this. As you felt your orgasm building, you pressed him deeper against your core, squeezing him between your thighs. He was trapped, and clearly loving it. Below you, you could see the muscular swell of his ass, clenching as he thrust his hips up against nothing.

“That’s it, that’s it. Make Mama come like a good boy.” You pulled hard on his hair as you pressed your hips forward, toes curling, waves of pleasure crashing through you. He moaned just as loudly as you did, your cunt spasming against the press of his hot tongue.

You took your time catching your breath, still holding Joel by the hair. When you finally pulled him free of you, the sight was delicious. Skin blotched and red, your glistening juices smeared everywhere. Hair tousled and sticking out, breath coming fast and hard.

You smiled down at him.

“Don’t worry, pet. We’re not done yet. Now—” you pointed over at the unmade bed—“you’re gonna be my little toy. You’re gonna lie down over there and let me ride you.”

Joel felt a rush of relief at the thought of you finally touching his achy, leaking cock. He nodded up at you, rising to his feet. The sheets of the bed were cool and smooth against his flushed skin.

You took your time, sliding down off the table top and languidly stretching your arms out. Enjoying the way Joel looked lying there, waiting for you with his giant erection jutting up into the air. Finally, you made your way over to the mattress and climbed up on your knees, straddling him.

Your sweet cunt was hovering in the air, inches above the tip of his cock. You paused there, and smiled condescendingly down at him.

“Beg me for it, little boy.”

“Please, please, please.” The words spilled out of his lips, his voice cracked and shameless.

“Please what?”

“Please ride me. Please fuck yourself on my cock like it’s your little toy.”

You reached down and wrapped one hand around his thickness, the grip sending sparks through his body. Then you began to slide his head along your drenched lips, wetting it down. Instead of moving him toward your entrance, you guided the tip to nudge against your clit, and began to tap it against the swollen nub, again and again. His poor, sensitive cockhead was so engorged by now that it hurt, and he whimpered each time you pressed against him.

Then, finally, you slid him down to the hot, wet center of you. You drove your hips down, throwing your head back as you filled yourself with him. He could only fit halfway in your tight little pussy on that first downward thrust, and you whined as you reared up and down again, spearing yourself on his cock. He felt his thighs shaking as you pushed yourself further and further down, until finally he bottomed out inside you. You paused there, letting yourself settle around the heavy length of him.

And then— fuck— he felt that familiar warmth growing in his abdomen, his balls tightening upward. His face screwed up, as he tensed and fought to pull back from the edge.

“Oh, poor boy,” you said, smiling down at him as you began to move your hips in a slow, easy roll. “You’re trying so hard not to come, aren’t you?” The warm slide of your pussy was unbelievable, and Joel’s mind scrambled for something to distract him— think about work detail, plumbing repair, fucking baseball, anything.

“But you can’t hold back, can you? You’re not even gonna make it another minute in this tight little cunt, are you?” You were right. Of course you were right. He grabbed fistfuls of bedsheet in each hand, gripping as hard as he could, knuckles going white as he fought against his hips that wanted to thrust, thrust, thrust into you. He screwed his eyes shut tight.

His eyes flew back open as a spray of warm spit hit his face.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Your voice jolted through him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he moaned.

“Tell me you’re sorry for coming so fast, you filthy little boy.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m a filthy little boy and I’m going to come.” The words poured out of Joel, his hips bucking uncontrollably as the electric warmth spilled over. “I’m sorry Mama, I’m coming, I’m so sorry, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He began to shoot into you, spurt after helpless spurt, coming so hard he thought for a second he might pass out.

It was only when his cock and his hips finally stilled that he realized he was crying. Hot tears rolled down the sides of his face to pool against the sheets.

You leaned down, stroking your hand along his stubbled cheeks. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay baby. Mama forgives you.” You slid yourself off his sticky, half-hard cock and moved forward, still straddling him. Your soft hands gently combed through his messy curls.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. You can clean up this mess and I’ll be good as new.” Your hips pushed forward, and you pulled one hand back to hold yourself open, showing Joel where his milky seed was dripping down between your folds.

He nodded, looking up at your encouraging smile. His tongue slipped out between his lips, and he took a first, tentative lick along your slit. The sweet tang of your slick mixed with his own bitter, salty spend.

“That’s a good boy. Clean it all up.” He lapped at you, gathering speed. His tongue pressed inside you, curling against your walls to release every last drop.

Finally, when you were satisfied he’d done his job, you pulled away. He released his mouth from you with a mournful groan, and you sat down against the head of his bed. 

You looked him over from head to toe. He was a fucked out mess of a man. Flushed skin, limbs sprawling. Sticky cock still swollen against his thigh. Lips slick with his own come, and yours.

“Come here, sweet boy,” you murmured softly. You pulled his head into your lap, cradling him there as you gently petted him. “You did good. Close your eyes, Joel. I’ve got you.”

His eyes drifted shut, and in less than a minute he’d fallen asleep. Dark, deep, dreamless sleep— the best sleep he’d had in a long, long time.

When he woke up, it was morning and you were gone. On his table, you’d left the core of an apple, its sweetness slowly turning brown.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Ya know?

I haven't seen much Adam angst around here lately.

In Eden, Lucifer and Adam were talking to each other casually as Adam played with some mud and rocks.

Lucifer: Adam-

Adam looked up: Yes, Luci?

Lucifer internally: Here goes nothing.

Lucifer: I have a new game for us to play.

Adam: Oh? What is it?

Lucifer: I call it The Waiting Game.

Adam: What's that?

Lucifer: It's a game I thought of a couple nights ago. Basically, you just sit right there, very still.

Adam sat as still as he could.

Adam: Like this?

Lucifer: Yes. Now, I will go around the entire garden, and if you are still sitting here when I get back, I'll take you flying. Sound good?

Adam: Okay!

Lucifer: Great! I'll start walking!

Lucifer walked off until he was out of Adam's sight.

Lillith: Ready?

Lucifer: Yeah, did you eat the apple?

Lillith: Every bite.

Lucifer: Good, let's go.

😭😭😭😭

WHHHHYYYY??!!?

Thank you I didn't need my fucking heart anyway. Lucifer you prick.

- Many hours later -

Adam pulled his legs to his chest: This game is taking a long time...... Where is he?

Adam fell asleep in that spot and when the next day came he didn't care if it cost him a chance to fly he needed to find Lucifer. What if he forgot about him?

Slowly, Adam got to his feet and walked around. He couldn't find Lucifer or Lilith anywhere.

Maybe they were playing hide and seek and forgot to tell him?

He looked everywhere and couldn't find him.

Adam: Did...... Did I do something wrong...?

[florvaine]

giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of old-school love with shoto todoroki <33.

he’s sneaking out of his house to see you late at night just to cuddle up with you laying your head on his chest in your bed, no need for blankets because he’s using a small amount of his fire quirk to keep the two of you warm.

there’s no phones, so he’s sending letters to you everyday. even if you’ve seen him and spoke to him, you still receive a long letter, delicate words carved out in black ink, crafted his love for you into words with his bare hands. they’re tied with twine, a small, pressed flower encased inside the careful folds of the yellowing paper.

every week there’s a new bouquet at your doorstep. even when the two of you were in u.a, and he was slightly more reserved, your parents would still bring up a vase with a smile and comment on him being sweet. nowadays, he would knock on your door and give them to you personally.

every now and then he’s purchasing clothes or products for you - this can range from a dress you were eyeing up in the window of a yellow-walled shop, or a pair of loose slacks you mentioned months ago. perfumes that remind him of you, jewellery that, in his words, ‘don’t even come close to being as beautiful as you are’.

you want to see a new movie? he’s got you, and he’s brought all the snacks the two of you can ever want. casual bike rides? once you stop at the top of the hill, he’s not looking at the breathtaking view of the tiny town, but instead your face and the look of tranquility in your eyes. new vinyl you want? it’s wrapped in a brown-paper with a short note taped to it.

your laugh is contagious, as well as your smile. he’s showed more tenderness when he met you, his sister noticed.

the rain doesn’t stop him nor you, either. todoroki would happily run down drenched streets with you, hand in hand and twirling you so the hem of your soaked dress flows upwards at the movement. and then he’s pulling off his jacket to drape over your soggy torso.

he’d 100% place his coat down on a puddle so you could walk over it without dirtying your new scarlet heels.

and by god does he swear that he is the happiest, luckiest man in the world when he proposes to you.

“will you marry me, let me be your husband?” and then he’s sliding the indestructible metal loop on your ring finger with a tear-soaked kiss to your knuckles afterwards. there’s a shimmering gem, your favourite gemstone, that you mentioned once nearly a year into your relationship.

the wedding is extravagant. he took care of the venue after you talked about where you wanted it to be. besides, it was both of your days - but mainly yours.

he cried happy tears when he sees you, clutching a bouquet of red, white and grey flowers in a floral, silky wedding dress with a trail that tsu and ochako have to hold up so you can walk. your veil is long and lacy, but he can still see your face and styled hair. even katsuki can’t hold back a quivering smile.

the vinyls he gifts you get used, after moving into a cosy little cottage house on a hill with a open, emerald garden with acres of apple and peach trees. the two of you sharing glass after glass of port as the music blasts from the corner of the room. and then, he’s whisking you up from your seat on the sofa and you’re slow dancing. todoroki noses at your cheek and you can feel him smiling as he presses his lips against yours in a wine-tasting kiss.

but he’s scared when the doctors bring up the chance of you being pregnant. as frightened as he is at the idea, he’s by your side every step of the way. at your bedside whilst your in labour, letting you cut all circulation off from his fingers and shout curses at him.

and he waits patiently as his little girl is being cleaned and wrapped up, using his ice to cool you down, his hankercheif to wipe sweat off your face and tucking baby hairs behind your ears, kissing your forehead and muttering sweet nothings of encouragement.

when he holds your daughter, he swears that for as long as he was alive, she would not have a father like his.

and even after the time changes, as his daughter grows up, he still finds himself more enchanted with you by the day. he finds himself admiring every forming wrinkle on your face, the silky silver strands in your hair. but your eyes are as gorgeous as ever, and you still have the spark that you did when you were younger.

once your daughter leaves for collage, a bittersweet goodbye, the two of you move. and now the two of you are that sweet elderly couple that sit together in rocking chairs on the porch, overlooking and waving with smiles at others going through the same.

“(y/n)?”

“yes, love?”

“do you want to go on a walk through the park? i heard it’s delightful during autumn.”

“of course, give me a minute to grab my coat, hun.”

old love with todoroki shoto <333.

[viperwhispered]

A ficlet to expand on the thoughts I shared here about Emi in book seven (so this will contain some spoilers).

You can find more information on my yuusona Emi and her relationship with Jamil here on the masterlist.

“Mrah, so where are we now?” Grim demanded to know. Sebek and Silver were both looking around, clearly on guard.

They were standing in front of a red, wooden two-story house, the gravel crunching under their feet. On their right, they could see apple trees, berry bushes and a small meadow split in two by a dirt road. To their left, partially obscured by the foliage, was an assortment of agricultural buildings, their roofs sagging and walls grayed out with age. And behind everything, surrounding them from three sides, there was water peeking through the trees, glimmering in the sunlight.

Suddenly the broom that had been leaning against the porch flew into Emi’s hand.

“Knew it!” she said with a delighted laugh.

Without giving herself time to think, Emi turned around, bursting into a sprint down the road on the hillside, away from the house. Running never was this light in the real world, but here… She pushed off the ground, spread her arms - and remained aloft, her feet tucked beneath her as she glided over the road and higher up to the air.

“Emi!”

Sebek sounded angry, Silver concerned, Grim baffled, yet the confusion was evident on all of their faces.

“Remember what you said about the dreams being tied to the person who’s dreaming them, Silver?” Emi called out from above them, her voice tinged with mirth as she pushed herself higher. It felt a little silly, flapping her arms like this to get higher in the air, but if it worked…

“Well, this dream is mine.”

She angled her palms, thumbs tilting downwards, and glided back towards the rest of the group, landing softly next to them.

“There’s a few things that tend to happen quite often in my dreams, and I did wonder if I’d be able to do them now as well. Seems like it works.”

Emi walked towards the house, easily tossing the tub meant for gathering rainwater high up in the air. She lifted a palm, cupped her hand, and the tub hovered, only descending as Emi allowed it to.

“But you are magicless, human. What is the meaning of this?” Sebek demanded.

Emi only gave him an amused look, too exalted to be bothered by Sebek’s usual brusqueness.

“Not in my dreams, though. Not even before I got to Twisted Wonderland, even if I thought magic was only fiction,” she responded lightly, letting the tub settle on the grass next to the garden swing.

“So what is this place?” Silver asked.

“Oh. It’s my grandma’s house. I often spend time here in the summer - or at least used to, when in my own world.”

Which meant that they were seeing a piece of the world Emi comes from, plucked from her memories. There was a new curiosity in all of them, even Sebek, as that realization set in.

For her part, Emi tried to swallow down the homesickness swelling up her throat and stepped up to the front door, turning the handle before pausing.

“Oh yeah. Malleus did say he’d make sure we’re only having good dreams… But still, be careful if it’s dark somewhere, or if you can’t turn on the lights. Upstairs, especially, and in the basement.”

Grim's eyes widened.

“Careful? Is there something dangerous in here?” he yowled.

“Only if it turns into a nightmare. And with the four of us, we'll be fine. I often beat things to pulp myself nowadays, at least if I'm lucky,” Emi said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Just what kind of dreams do you have, human?” Sebek demanded.

After all… This timid girl from another world certainly didn't look like someone for such violence, even in her dreams.

“I suppose there's a fair bit of fighting and running and stopping bullets and throwing people around,” was Emi's wry response.

Which certainly did not lessen everyone's confusion any. Would she really be able to do all those things here, just like that?

While they were there, Emi took the opportunity to show everyone around. Talking about how her family would gather here for Christmas or Midsummer celebrations, showing off the sauna in the house - and the second one down by the lakeshore.

But she also tried out a few other things: passing through windows without breaking the glass, jumping up to the roof and gliding off again. All the while, there was that expression of delighted mirth on her features, the enjoyment of being able to do such impossible things - even if it all was a dream in the end.

There was even a part of Emi that wondered if she'd even be able to challenge Malleus in this place. Probably a foolish notion, considering his power and experience, but still…

At the very least, she would definitely need to ask the others to help her with some experimentation.

This will depend on his things end after book seven, but it's very much possible that at some point Emi will ask Malleus to let her visit her dreamspace again. Sure, it kinda fuels her homesickness, since she tends to dream of familiar places, but it also lets her experience being powerful in a way she rarely gets to feel - especially in Twisted Wonderland, where she's surrounded by mages.

They might even be trying things out together with Malleus to figure out just what kind of things Emi can do in the dreams, when she doesn't have to worry about waking up too soon.

Though I can certainly imagine Malleus being surprised that she’d let him put her to sleep like that, after what happened when he overblotted and how displeased Emi was with those events.

Tagging @scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If anyone else would like to be tagged for Emi / jamemi things, let me know!

[helaenaxyf]

Ser knight

(Fluff - Gwayne hightower x targaryen reader)

Summary (Reader the duaghter of rhaenyra and criston has fallen in love With ser gwayne but she doesn't know how to tell him so she decides to give him some hints)

⠀❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐

"Oh ser knight!" You called out from you're balcony "May I ask what you're doing?"

Gwayne looked up from his horse as he smiled a bit "Oh princess im merely waiting for my sister."

"Well I've got to say you have such nice skills ser knight" you fluttered you're eyelashes looking at him

He smirked slightly, taking your comment as a genuine compliment. "You're father has taught me well," He responded, resuming his practice. "Most knights would kill for his swordsmanship lessons." He grinned, thrusting his sword expertly.

You smiled "Thats great well do you mind if-" you couldnt continue you were cut off as you saw Alicent walk outside to see gwayne

Youre mind rang one thing one thing that made you almost go crazy

⠀⠀➡️ 📢❗🚨 ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Ｆａｉｌｅｄ！

Gosh another attempt!⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ you sighed as you turned and left the balcony you're lips were sulky as you crossee you're arms "Why does it always get ruined?"

As you were walking you passed the library unkowningly you felt something heavy hit you're head "OW!" You held you're head and shook it as you looked around "who..dared?"

To you're suprise no one was there!

You looked down to see a book

ᡣ𐭩~Ｈｏｗ ｔｏ ｇｅｔ ａ ｍａｎ ｉｎ ３ ｄａｙｓ！ ᡣ𐭩~

You were intrigued and almost excited as you leaned down and took the book in you're hands and opened it "how to get a man in 3 days..."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This could be it! You thought you might actually make gwayne locked in you're deepest heart!

You were smiling so much you squeaked as you looked around and walked vastly to you're chamber and closed the door and hopped in you're bed

You flipped thru the pages finding the exact instructions and details you're eyes flanked over the number one rule

1 - show interest

You tilted you're head didn't you always do that? You always flirted but it never shows

Until you saw the detail of it

- acting casual showing to much interest wouldn't make him think

Makes sense.

The other 2 rules were to :

2- make him feel needed

3 - spend time

You huffed theese were the same rules in every damn love story book!

No! You needed something fast. And that works you flipped every Page until u reached the last

1 - don't interact for days until he notices

2 - ignore him

3 - tend to compliment other men

⠀

!you knew this was the one it will help you get noticed by gwayne or maybe loved

❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐

The next day it was hard to not look at gwayne but you're determination helped

You didn't talk to him or looked at him

You were combing you're hair by the fountain of the garden as you noticed foot steps

"Princ-" you got up and left without a word

.....

Gwayne was confused as looked at you go "what's with you're duaghter?" He asked see criston

"Didn't pay much attention,But maybe she's tired of you." Criston yawned as he sharpened his sword

"What?"

⠀❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐

You had managed to do it for 3 whole days! It was a accomplished task! But still it wasn't completed without gwayne

⠀you were at the garden to fetch some apples from the apple tree the branch wasn't tall and you were so close to get it

But couldn't!

Than you felt someone's hand with yours as he took the apple "here you go."

To you're suprise it was gwayne

"Ser knight?" You replied as gwayne looked at you "...Youve been ignoring me. I was looking for you the other day." He was sincere

"Oh well..." you bit you're lips

"Hahaha..." you gulped

"I've.. noticed that you don't go to the balcony anymore? Have I upsten you?"

You didn't know what to say as you sighed "well i didn't think you'd care."

"Why wouldn't I?" He tilted his head "I appreciate you're compliments."

You nodded as you saw him put the apple into youre hand "do you like me...princess?"

You're heart raced as you looked up at him "what?"

"You like me don't you? Well..the thing is.. " he muttered

You closed you're eyes almost to nervous or afraid to what he'll say

"I like you too."

"What?"

"I love you."

"But...why?" You were shocked "I didn't really think-"

"You're.. brave sometimes. I really..value it. You're pretty smart. Everything..."

You're heart rate quickened in a good way

He held you're hands as he said "don't you like me?"

"No gwayne" you paused looking into his eyes "i love you."

⠀❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐❀࿐

[istaricelebelasse]

Trick or treat!

Pippin had a Plan.

It was a Very Good Plan. It was a Cunning Plan.

It was the sort of plan that would make Gandalf turn that particularly exquisite shade of red.

(Despite what Merry might say, Pippin almost always intended to make Gandalf turn that colour. It was hardly ever accidental.)

He enlisted the help of Bilbo with his plan, for Bilbo was the sort of hobbit that appreciated hijinks and tomfoolery.

Bilbo had two of the most important parts in the plan, and that was equipping Pippin with a costume and casually bringing up the hobbit traditions for the end of harvest to their elvish host during dinner where all visitors could hear it.

He had managed to convince Frodo to join in, with liberal application of his puppy eyes and whingy voice, so that it was not just him wandering around the Last Homely House.

(Frodo joining in also meant that Merry felt left out, which meant he too joined in. Really Pippin amazed himself sometimes with how clever he was.)

(Sam had refused to. He told them that he would much rather enjoy his comfortable bed than participate in a tradition for Tweens and Faunts.)

Pippin thought he himself looked the most dashing in his outfit, for Bilbo had leant him a tunic he had bought from Erebor. Frodo wore a piece of armour that shone and sparkled in the light, while Merry was stuck in muddy clothes and borrowing a pair of Sam’s sheers.

(Why Sam had brought gardening tools into the wilderness was a question that even Sam could not answer.)

They chose an easy first target, Strider spent enough time with Bilbo to likely be aware of the Plan or at least spent enough time around the Shire to know of the tradition.

Merry was the one to knock on his door, and when Strider opened it with a grin was the one to call out the ancient refrain:

“Trick or Treat!”

Strider grinned back and, once again, threw apples at them. This time Pippin was rather proud of himself for catching them.

“Have a bountiful harvest, master hobbits!” He called out, before swiftly shutting his door again.

Likely he knew that Pippin knew he had better sweets in his room than apples and did not want to share them.

No matter, apples were not a bad start to the Plan.

The next door they tried was the Lady Arwen’s, for she had been close to Bilbo at dinner and seemed the sort to be well prepared.

“Trick or Treat!” Frodo called when the Lady opened her door.

Lady Arwen smiled, “What excellent timing! I had hoped for someone to share this marzipan with!”

And so it went on, each of their targets carefully chosen, and each of their treats gladly acquired.

Until one door remained.

Pippin would have rubbed his hands together in glee if he was not holding a bag of precious treats. The final door, the one he had been looking forward to.

He did not let either of the others knock, for this was his target and his Plan.

The door creaked open, only to show a dark and empty room.

The words stuck on his tongue - where was Gandalf?

“TRICK OR TREAT!”

The words boomed from behind them, and Pippin was not ashamed to say he let out the tiniest little scream as he jumped and turned around. Nor again when they were plunged into darkness until only Gandalf’s craggy face was lit up in red.

“I think I choose trick, my dear hobbits,” The wizard said with glee, “And so I do believe I have tricked you!”

Pippin narrowed his eyes and huffed as Gandalf laughed to himself.

Using wizard powers was blatantly cheating!

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Kinktober Day 8: Aphrodisiacs (Primo x Fem! Reader SMUT)

ITS FINALLY PRIMO TIME!! I've been wanting to write a fic for him for so long now but whenever I try it doesn't come out right. So, since I don't have time to obsess over every single detail of the fics I publish this month being perfect, due to the sheer volume of them, I figured this would be a good time to give it a shot. We fuckin this old man tonight, strap in guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+, mostly fluff because Primo makes me soft, confessed feelings, weed smoking, consumption of natural aphrodisiacs, reader rides Primo (we gotta be nice to his joints), blowjob, creampie, slight praise, just some good ol' love making, nothing too crazy, they just end up not being able to keep their hands off each other

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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

"My dear, is everything alright? You've barely touched your tea." You were ripped from your thoughts at the feeling of Primo's warm hand coming to rest on top of yours. You blushed, giving him a small nod.

"Yes Papa, sorry, I was just thinking." You admit with a bashful chuckle. He slowly pulls his hand back, satisfied with your answer despite the fact he knew you weren't telling him the complete truth. You had planned this afternoon in hope of finally confessing your feelings for Primo. But, you would be lying if you said you weren't a little distracted by his mere presence. Despite his age and constant declarations that he no longer possessed the same vigor he used to, Primo was still a consummate flirt. His slow and careful movements had you aching for him to touch you; the way his finger would slowly trace around the rim of his tea cup as he listened attentively to you speak, when he would guide you into the greenhouse his hand would hover over the small of your back, his intense gaze trained on your smallest movements left you feeling more aroused with every passing second. When you would spend time with Primo he wouldn't allow you to even lift a finger, despite the fact that it was you who asked for his company. He poured your tea, he had arranged the charcuterie board, anything you needed during your time together he would take care of. You take a small sip of the tea Primo had prepared for you, an herbal blend he had made himself. The drink left you feeling warm from head to toe as you tried to not let your mind wander, despite your excited state, time alone with your Papa was something that should be cherished. You looked over the small board of snacks he had prepared for you; fresh figs drizzled with honey, the finest chocolates you had ever tasted, a small bowl of pomegranate seeds.

"Did you know," he starts with a groan, "that some believe that it was a pomegranate the snake offered Eve in the garden of Eden, not an apple?" You shake your head with a giggle.

"I didn't. Did you know that all of these foods are considered aphrodisiacs?" You rebuttal.

"Maybe I did." He responds casually, shitting you a sly wink that instantly gets you flustered. He motions for you to wait a moment, he stands and makes his way into a back room within his greenhouse. He returns a few moments later with an ornate pipe and small jar of marijuana. He returns to his seat with a sigh, meticulously pinching a good sized amount for him to smoke. He lights the bowl with ease, no doubt from years of practice. The soft haze of smoke fills your vision as he exhales. "Would you like some?" He offers.

"Please." You were hoping this could help dissolve your nerves, leaving you with no space to think of anything else besides the unbridled emotions for the man who sat across from you. You take the piece in your hands, locking eyes with Primo as you bring the end to your mouth. He lights the bow for you, waiting for your signal to stop. You inhaled deeply, the musky, earthy flavor and scent of the herb dominating your senses. Your eyes instantly grew heavy as the smoke filled your lungs, you leaned back in your chair as you slowly exhaled. Primo looks at you with a satisfied smile, watching as your high quelled your nervous fidgeting.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy your company my dear, but surely there's a reason you asked me to join you this afternoon." You could tell by the time in his voice that he had you exactly where he wanted you. You shouldn't have been surprised, he had stayed himself in the past that he's had Siblings fall for him over the years, you were sure that you were no different than any previous admirers. "Surely it wasn't to try and catch the attention of this old man." You can't help but involuntarily wince as he hit the nail right in the head. "Sorella…" he coos, your eyes trailing over to his features at the sound of his gentle tone. "Come here, little one." He pats his lap. As you step closer to him, he takes your hand, guiding you to a comfortable position perched across his thighs. "Tell your Papa what's on your mind, hm?"

"I… have a bit of a confession to make." You chuckle awkwardly. "Papa… Primo," you correct, feeling this wasn't the place for honorifics, "over the time that I've known you I've found myself falling for you. I'm sure you've had plenty of confessions from other Siblings, I know I'm not special, but I can't keep going around pretending that I don't feel this way about you."

"(Y/N)," his finger trails across your jaw, prompting your eyes to meet his. "I never want you to feel like you're not special in my eyes, fiore." He takes your hand in his, it felt as if sparks were dancing across your skin at his gentle touch. "I'm the one who should be grateful for receiving even a fraction of your affection."

"Papa, I…"

"Primo." It was his turn to correct you, shooting you a playful smile.

"Primo," you giggle. "I… I'm not really sure what to say." He pushes some stray hair behind your ear before his arm wraps around your waist.

"You don't have to say anything, my dear." He gives your waist a gentle squeeze. "We were already having a fantastic evening together. I don't see the harm in continuing that… maybe seeing where the night takes us from there." You can't help but squeeze your legs together at the thought. Being so close to Primo like this already had your body going haywire, the aphrodisiacs you had consumed definitely weren't helping either. He smirks at you suggestively as he realizes your ruffled state. Primo packed you another bowl doing what he could to try and ease your nerves. You spent the rest of the evening cuddled up in Primo's lap, the two of you laughing and smoking the night away until you made the mutual decision that your company would be greatly appreciated in his quarters. Primo had one of his Ghouls prepare a fire, the two of you getting nice and cozy on his couch. A little joint was passed between you as Primo hand fed you small squares of chocolate. You wanted to melt into him, the feeling of being fully relaxed paired with your accepted confession clouding your mind with thoughts of only your Papa. "You look absolutely divine in the firelight, my darling." Primo purrs. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your face lands in the crook of his neck, allowing you to revel in the smell of sweet incense, damp earth, and herb. You dared to glance up at him, his mismatched gaze finding yours as he felt your eyes land on him.

"Primo," you whisper softly, "can I kiss you?"

"I would love nothing more, cara mia." A smile ghosts over his lips as he leans into you. Primo was so gentle as he held you in his arms, scared as if you would break like a china doll. You let out a satisfied sigh as his lips finally met yours, finally experiencing something you had been dreaming about for a long time. He squeezes your waist, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The bitterness of his papal paint mixed in with the sweetness of the chocolate you had been previously eating, the kiss quickly becoming more heated. Primo guides you to his lap, your knees sinking into the plush couch cushions as you straddle him. He groans softly as you sink your full weight onto him, you can't help but smirk slightly as you feel him start to grow hard beneath you. He places his hands on your thighs, allowing them to slowly push up the hem of your sundress. He shivers at the feeling of your bare skin under his fingertips.

"Forgive me for being so blunt," he starts with a chuckle, "but you seem to have gotten me a little, eh, excited." He hissed through his teeth as you shift your hips. Despite the fact you could feel his reaction pressing into your clothed heat he was still trying to be somewhat of a gentleman.

"Is there any way I can help, Papa?" You ask coyly. You feel him twitch slightly at the sweet sound of your voice.

"Is it alright if I touch you, fiore?" His fingers squeeze against your thighs.

"Please." You respond breathlessly before his lips crash back into yours. His hands slide under your dress and over the curve of your ass, pulling you as close to him as he could manage. His lips trail over your jaw as he slowly works you out of your dress, groaning in arousal at your mostly naked form.

"You're so beautiful, fiore." He places kisses across your collarbones, holding you firmly by the hips as he listens to every soft mewl and gasp he can pull from you.

“Papa,” You sigh softly, “can I taste you?” He nods, keeping his sultry gaze on you as you lower yourself to your knees. He assists you in pulling off his ceremonial robes to reveal his bare form underneath. He lets out a low growl as you slowly stroke his member in your hand. You tentatively wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. His fingers lace into your hair, his hips bucking slightly as you eased yourself down his shaft. You allowed him to set the pace, moaning around him as you looked up to see the expression of pure pleasure on his face. You pushed yourself down, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Bene, fiore. So good for your Papa.” He groans as you continue to bob your head. He beckons you back into his lap, you moan with anticipation as you feel him swipe the head of his cock over your entrance. You whine as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your thighs shaking slightly as you fully sit on his cock. You grip tightly onto his shoulders, bouncing yourself at a steady pace. Primo rested his hands on your waist, your arousal dripping down his erection with every thrust. You felt incredible on top of him; the way your ass would jiggle with every bounce, your sweet moans filling his ear, your warm body pressed tightly to his, Primo believed you were a gift from the Dark Lord himself.

“You feel so good.” You groan in his ear. Your moans turn to screams as Primo begins to fuck up int your. His fingers grabbing tightly on your hips, he slammed you down repeatedly on his cock like you were his own personal fleshlight. You felt his thrusts begin to grow sloppy, the moans from his mouth quickly becoming more breathy and almost desperate as he chased his climax. His hips stuttered as his hot cum shot into you. His fingers find your clit, expertly rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent your own climax crashing over you. You collapse against his chest, the room filled with the sound of your labored breathing.

“Mi fiore.” He whispers, you hum in response as you nuzzle your face against his neck. “Would you like to spend the night?”

“I would love to, Primo.”

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @mustluvecho @herripinkle @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @sodomiser @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @ghuleh-recs (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added let me know!)