#these tags encompass just why this relationship was so fucking beautiful

[omar-rudeberg]

Hi Lili! I just wanted to say that I love your fics and I've re-read them multiple times each and they still feel just as special in a re-read as they do the first time around. Inside is no exception. It was so beautiful, loving, but heartbreaking and devastating at the same time (I even shed a tear – or five). It really feels like you just get Wilmon, you know?

And it got me wondering how you think their first time having sex once they're back together (for good now) would happen post episode 6. Like in terms of their feelings and would it be rushed or slow, etc. I'm just really curious about your thoughts on the matter :)

Thank you for sharing your beautiful words and thoughts (even in tags) with us 💜

hello my beautiful beautiful human bean what a love letter you've left me ?! hearing you like and are moved by and go back to my silly little words? wild. astounding. unbelievable. thank you for reading & thank you for coming here to tell me. ahhh 'get' wilmon !! is there any greater accomplishment !! i sure hope you keep feeling this way !!

i've been pondering your second question for so long and i've landed somewhere i hope you agree with...

(fuck me this got more detailed than i bargained for, here have a read more whoopsie daisy)

i have this gut feeling that the first time they have sex post-canon (wild that we can now call it that !!) is ... weird. different. i don't know i can't really explain it, but why i think so is that their intimacy has always been this like, almost homing beacon for their relationship you know? it's been a northern star, a sturdy monolith of everything they feel and need from the other that they can't put into words, a balm that soothes any rough edges that arise from the many many incompatibilities of their individual existences.

it's been tender and exploratory, sweet and gripping, urgent and learnèd and all-encompassing, but it's never been ... slow? it's never been particuarly awkward. they've never had time, really, because with the exception of maybe the fish scene, every time they've had sex has been either a hello or a desperate goodbye.

all this to say that i think the first time they find to have sex post-s6 - and for some reason i picture them in simon's room when they finally get there? can't explain it - i think they fall back into this pattern of urgency and desperation and desire, but then something stops this in it's tracks. honestly i have this vision so clear of like... one of them unable to get it up the first time they want to fuck post-canon hahaha and again i can't explain it but it's true !! in my head it's wille, maybe, and it's something akin to the way - have you ever had that thing happen where you get sick right as you take leave from work to go on a holiday or something? like your body realises you don't have to be switched on for weeks and decides to give you a head cold? something akin to that. wilhelm's adrenaline has run its course and his body's not working the way it did before, it's taking a break, now. finally.

so to finally finally answer your question i think they'll want it to be fast, and suave, and smooth and sexy and dirty and similar to like ep3, but they'll be forced instead into awkward. into slow. into soothing. i picture like, lots of kissing, slow deep kissing, and nuzzling, and grinding (lord, so much grinding), and breaths fanning hot over goose-pimpled skin. i picture them slowly talking, whispering, realising they have it now - t i m e - they have time, now. they don't even have to fuck (the whole shebang) tonight if they don't want to (they do, oh they do want to but they talk about how they don't have to). they spend a lot of time not fucking anyway, just being close and naked and together. i picture them both working wille over so slowly - so gently - finding out together what places on his body react to being kissed, what has his belly pulling tight and having his dick interested, finally. i picture simon being brought to the edge once - twice, maybe - before wilhelm's finally in any state to fuck him, and then god save simon when wilhelm actually does enter him he's so hard and so sensitive and so just as;dkfjas;ldkfj;lsad

okay fuck literally everything i'm so sorry and/or you're welcome? is this what you bargained for? asd;lfj;lsadkjf

(if you made it this far go to my request for prompts next please i think i've put you in the right mindset)

[inkyteaart]

Mochi-Chan (GojoxChubby!Reader)

TAGS

Fluff

Established Relationship

Pet Names

Kissing (w/ tongue)

NSFW suggested (fade to black)

It wasn’t long after getting into your apartment after your date with Gojo that you were bombarded with affection. The moment that door closed he crowded into your space. Hands holding your face, lips kissing your face. Your nose, your cheeks, forehead, anywhere he could deposit a small bit of his love on your skin. Giggles and squeals left you as you grabbed his wrists. Your nose was scrunched up with your grin, smiling so hard you almost couldn’t see. 

“‘Toru! Please!” You squealed, pulling his hands from your face so you could escape the onslaught. Instead they moved to your hips, holding gentle but firm, keeping you from backing away from him. Gojo was always affectionate, but behind closed doors it just reached a new level. It was like he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. 

“What? I can’t kiss the love of my life?” Always with the dramatics. You were quick to plant a kiss on his lips to shut him up. The dopey grin on his face was well worth it you thought. 

Gojo Satoru was hopelessly in love, and with a chaotic schedule, he almost never got to have these nights with you. Nights where he got to give you his full undivided attention, to kiss and hold you. “Don’t deny me my Mochi-chan…” His voice was a dramatic whine, pouting. Pet names. You had heard most every pet name in the world from Gojo, but Mochi had always been his favorite. “My sweet Mochi.” Even behind his shades you could feel his eyes on you, they’d never left your face since the two of you made it home. 

“Hey Satoru.” He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue talking. You had to reach up to do it, but you put your arms around his neck. “Why do you like calling me Mochi so much?” There was his grin again, but this time you could swear there was a darker side to it. Mischief. That was only confirmed when he reached up and took those shades off. Vaguely you were aware of him flicking the glasses over to the couch. However you were distracted by the dark pupils that were taking over the beautiful icy blue of his eyes. 

That hand returned to your hip, and you could feel how he held firmer to you. How his fingers pressed into your plush hips, pulling you in closer rather than simply holding you still. Your body pressed into his now. “Well…” He started off, finally breaking his gaze from your face to look down where your breasts pressed into his chest. You swore you heard a small little ‘fuck’ leave him. Ever since you’d gotten together he had made a point of telling you how much he loved your body, all of it. There was no room for doubt in this relationship. He loved your chubby body, loved your soft tummy with fat rolls and all. Adored your thick thighs, lined with stretch marks. 

“You’re just so sweet.” His face lowered back to yours. Lips close enough apart that when he wet his bottom lip with his tongue, you felt it. 

“You’re soft.” His big hands made a point of squeezing your hips quickly. Sensing where this was going, you felt a heat starting in you. 

“I can never wait to get my mouth on you.” You swallowed as his voice dropped a little, ending his sentence with a nip at your lower lip before soothing that sting with an all encompassing kiss. 

His being took over your entire world with how he held you. His lips were insistent, working against yours. The hands on your hips slid down, cupping the bottom curve of your ass and squeezing. It got a gasp to which he moved in closer. His tongue swiped over yours, coaxing you to play. 

His body started moving, pushing you backwards through your apartment. You couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss, clinging to him more for balance. “Satoru wha…” You tried asking what he was doing, but he was unrelenting. Your back hit a wood surface and finally he broke the kiss. Now you were able to glance around, you were in your dark hallway, right outside of your room. His eyes were focused solely on you, and you swore they reflected what little light made it into that hallway. They almost seemed to glow at you in their intensity. 

“Now, I want Mochi for dessert. What do you say?” You heard the jostle of the doorknob under his hand, ready to turn at any second. 

All you could do was return a breathy “Yes...”

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Rules: post 10 of your favourite comfort movies then tag 10 people.

Thank you for the tag @its-all-ineffable 💖

The Holiday. Hot people Christmassy romcom, what's not to like? What Jack Black does with his character!! Beautiful!! And do I need to say more than Kate Winslet? Also single dad Jude Law in glasses!! Cameron Diaz rocking out to The Killers!! And driving a Mini down a country road and nearly getting wiped out by a lorry. So accurate it's *chefs kisses* Favourite scenes include: Arthur's moment to shine, Miles and Iris in Blockbuster and the tent scene with the kids with an honourable mention for Mr Napkinhead 😂 It's my go-to movie whenever I'm sad because it's just so stupidly funny and adorable.

How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Jim Carrey. That's all I have to say. Honestly, I've seen this film a million times. I can quote it by heart and do so regularly much to my mums annoyance. The schedule scene is very me anytime I'm invited anywhere 😂 some favourite quotes "Am I just eating because I'm bored" "Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. LOATHE ENTIRELY!" "We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up, and then I'm gonna die!" "The insolence! The audacity! The unmitigated gall!" "Nice kid... bad judge of character" (absolutely me with my niblings) It's just the perfect remedy whenever I'm ill.

The Muppets Christmas Carol. I love all the adaptations but this one is my favourite. Me and my mum snuggle up every Christmas Eve and sing along. It reminds me of the magic of childhood Christmases and soothes something deep in my soul.

The Old Guard. This is the only adrenaliney one cos I have anxiety and I need chill shit if I watch a film but Joe & Nicky are my perfect Immortal Husbands and the tiny details of their relationship are all-encompassing and easily distract from all the murder and kidnap 😂

Mary Poppins. Do I need to say more than Julie Andrews? Dick Van Dyke. The outfits. The songs. Suffragettes. Tea parties on the ceiling. Dancing penguins. The merry-go-round horses. When I was a kid my mum used to foster so our house was always full of kids who needed someone to love them, make them feel safe and bring them some joy. That's probably why Poppins is one of my comfort characters, my mum was her.

Alice In Wonderland. Any of the adaptations. They're all brilliant. I do love the 1951 animation though mainly bc I adore the dormouse scene but becoming BFFs with a load of weird and wonderful creatures in a dreamstate is just *chefs kisses* Any scene with The Mad Hatter in any of the adaptations is my favourite but I am a sucker for the clean cup move down scene.

Sherlock Gnomes. I also love any Sherlock adaption but this one's just hysterical. Watson is just done™️. Sherlock and Juliet's squirrel disguise when sneaking through the park kills me every time. Moriarty as a pastry mascot and the fact he has dumb gargoyles as his assistants. Perfection really. Honestly, this film is just so fucking stupid you can't possibly feel sad when you watch it.

Monsters, Inc. bc it might've been like twenty years but I still want a Sully hug!! Also the pure beautiful hilarious chaos that is this film cracks me up. "Mike Wazowski", "Always watching" and "Put that thing back where it came from or so help me" are just killer lines. I absolutely adore The Abominable Snowman too he's just too sweet.

The Addams Family. Any of the films. All of the films. Gomez and Morticia are ultimate couple goals. They adore each other. Support their kids unconditionally. So kind and generous it often gets them in trouble. They're just perfect.

Red, White And Royal Blue. Last but not least, only because it's the newest. This film was amazing!! I adored the book and although the film is different I love that it's basically a 'what if' fanfic of itself. It was genuinely lovely to be able to watch a queer story and be able to relax with it!! Don't get me wrong I love how profound queer films can be but they either have me gripped in anxiety waiting for the shoe to drop or have me reaching for a comedian to brush away the deep-seated sadness. I felt so safe and yeah they have their ups and downs like every couple but I think I'd have felt the same safety with those characters even if I hadn't read the book first. 5* 10/10 highly recommend. Will be watching this on repeat for the foreseeable future.

Absolutely no pressure tags @mickalaem @flowercrowngods @auroraplume @estrellami-1 @i-less-than-three-you @mentallyundone @hbyrde36 @penny00dreadful @adhdsummer @writingfanficsfan 💖

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Knife

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, fingering, knifeplay/knife kink, dirty talk, slight degradation, slight metal arm kink, definite finger and hand kink - 18+, minors DNI Summary: Seeing Bucky casually flip and twirl knives really does something for you. And he happily indulges the fantasy. A/N: Alright I’ve never really written a bit of any kind of particular kink but I mean, come on, of course I had to try. I am super aware this is not the most original idea but I still wanted to add my take on it. p.s. i forgot to do an initial tag list portion on this because i am not used to having one but i will fix that for the next lmao i am sorry

Masterlist

You thought you were going to explode as you walked into the kitchen. Standing in the middle there was Bucky mindlessly flipping one of the knives in his hand — of course, it had to be the metal hand — as he cooked dinner, watching the food simmer away.

He looked so casual as he lingered at the stove, twirling the knife between his fingers. He was doing little tricks, tossing it in the air and catching the handle of it perfectly. It was just so effortless — and made you unbelievably wet.

Truly, this wasn’t a super uncommon thing to come home to. As some people bit their nails or played with the ends of their hair, Bucky twirled kitchen knives. While a habit you’ve now come to… appreciate, it certainly startled you the first time he did it. He had thought nothing of it, much like the position he was in now, as he played around with the knife. While the naturalness of his motions was quite a sad habit he had been forced to pick up, he seemed more comfortable with it. Almost treating it like some special talent or party trick. As for you, it was just a fucking turn-on.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the knife and your boyfriend’s moving hand as you slipped off your shoes. You placed your purse down gently, slipping off your coat. Bucky turned around as he heard your movement.

"Hey, doll," he greeted you with a warm smile, the knife not stilling. He never missed a beat.

Your words were losing you as you watched him keep up his motions but now he leaned against the kitchen counter, across from you. You had apparently been hypnotized in the motions because Bucky was giving you an odd look, eventually breaking you out of your phase as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You blinked in surprise, forcing your eyes away from the weapon and to his beautiful, concerned face. You gave a small smile. "Yeah, sorry," you chuckled, walking over to the stove to inspect what was on the menu. "Long day," you added, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Yeah?" He hummed. "Something got your mind occupied?"

You picked up a spoon to stir around the vegetables. You were about to respond, trying to shake off your initial feelings when a body was suddenly pressed against your back. You gasped at him, at the surprising force he possessed. He practically towered over you. His breath was heavy as he leaned down, his lips just grazing over your skin. One hand suddenly came to your hip while the other, holding the knife still now, pressed the side of it to your skin. You just about jumped at the sudden action.

"I-I’m fine," you mumbled, trying to ignore the cool metal pressing to your hot skin. Trying to ignore how it went directly to your core. Trying to ignore the god damn wetness pooling —

"What’s got you worked up, baby?" Bucky asked. You could pretty much hear the fake frown he wore, acting all innocent. While you two had never talked about any sort of weapon play, or really many kinks to begin with, he must have seen the lust encompassing your eyes.

As he waited for an answer, Bucky trailed the side of the knife up and down your arm, cautiously and slowly, letting the metal cool you. His other hand gripped your hip tighter. You let out a sigh at his touches, unable to really keep yourself together anymore.

"It’s- It’s the-," you lost your train of thought as Bucky’s free hand came up under your shirt, caressing your side gently. He moved the knife to begin tracing your collarbones obvious by that little bit of neckline skin peeking out from your blouse. It was surprising but earned him a moan from your lips. Bucky chuckled darkly, placing a soft kiss on your neck.

"It’s the knife, isn’t it?" He asked, finishing your sentence for you. There was just a hint of mocking in his tone which didn’t help the wetness still forming between your thighs.

Weakly and just as pathetically, you nodded. It was all you could do — you couldn’t trust your voice.

Bucky seemed to like that as he began pressing on. The hand under your shirt slowly made its way down your torso to the buttoning of your jeans. He popped them free and wasted no time dipping two fingers into you. You yelped at intrusion while he moaned at the wetness soaking his fingers. He pumped them steadily, making little flicking motions every now and then.

The knife on the other hand was still near your neck, making weak little traces, being dragged over your hot skin. Nothing was enough to hurt you and Bucky was sure skilled with quick reflexes, always prepared for the little jolts your body gave as he continued fingering you.

"So wet for me," Bucky mumbled, picking up the thrusting of his fingers. "And all from me twirling a knife. How pathetic, don’t you think? It’s a knife, doll. A weapon. Could slice through anything and yet it turns you on?"

You let out a small whimper as he forced you to fully press against him. Your bodies were practically cemented together. You felt him getting hard making you so desperately want to help him out but there was no way out of this. Your mind was a daze as he never let up with fingering you. The coolness from the knife still rested on your skin sending shameless shivers across your body.

Your orgasm was building up now as his motions picked up. Without much warning, he decided to add his thumb to mix, moving in tight circles on your clit. That forced a surprise moan from you, making Bucky chuckle.

"F-Feels so good," you mumbled, your eyes fluttering close as you leaned your head back to rest it on Bucky’s shoulder.

Exposing more skin for his access, his lips attached to your neck, kissing and nipping at it. The knife now began moving slowly, delicately, down the valley of your breasts and to the rest of your torso. You groaned at the movement, the scandalousness of it. The absolute danger this held but the total trust you had in Bucky.

"Yeah?" Bucky hummed. "What feels good? My fingers?" he gave a rough thrust for emphasis making you jolt. "Or the knife?" The weapon stopped just above where his hands were disappearing into your jeans. You weakly lifted your head and glanced down, really seeing now the sudden contrast between his loving fingers and the haunting knife. It made you nearly lose your mind as you let out a groan, feeling your orgasm just approaching.

"Hmm," Bucky hummed, following your gaze. He seemed to pick up words where you were failing. "I think it’s the knife. I think my dirty girl likes the danger. Likes seeing me handle it. Right, doll? Isn’t that it? That’s what got you soaking my fucking hand?"

You gasped at his words. They were just doing enough for you, borderline too much. You wanted to practically thrust away but that was not happening.

"B-Bucky-," you whimpered. You were right on that edge and Bucky knew it as he picked up the motions. The pressure on your clit from his thumb movements got stronger as his pumping didn’t let up.

"Come on, doll," Bucky’s voice had dropped, almost panting behind you. He was fully turned on but completely consumed with you. "Cum for me, honey." His arms were just barely keeping you standing. Without him, you were crumbling.

Determined to get you just there, Bucky pressed the tip of the knife to your lower stomach. It didn’t do any harm but the action was just thrilling enough that you couldn’t stop yourself. Your orgasm plunged through you as you let out screams full of Bucky’s name and incomprehensible moans.

Your boyfriend was chuckling lowly watching you squirm under his touch. He threw the knife on the counter, fully gripping your hip with his now free metal hand as his fingers and thumb continued working you through the pleasure.

"Please, Bucky — " you groaned, "Too — Too much."

He gave a couple of last pumps, letting your wetness totally coat him, before removing his hand from your pants. You nearly fell forward but Bucky was quick to grab you. As you caught your breath, he went back to planting sweet kisses along your neck.

"That’s it, doll," he mumbled against your skin. "So good for me. So dirty, baby. Getting turned on from my knife…" He let out breathy laughs as you pulled yourself out of your dazed, orgasmic state.

"Don’t-," you chuckled, shaking your head. You were finally thinking clearly again, almost embarrassed by how far you had succumbed to him. All because of a fucking knife.

"Don’t what?" His hands left your body, allowing you to readjust to your regular standing position. As if nothing happened, you turned back to the food still cooking away — luckily not burned. But Bucky wasn’t quick to leave this alone. "Don’t talk about how my girl has a knife kink?"

You gasped, "Bucky!" You shot him a look as he went back to leaning against the counter. His arms were folded, looking so cocky and proud now. That flirty grin was playing his lips as his eyes raked over you, shamelessly. You could still see his erection poking through his pants but you opted to ignore it, turning back to the food. He wasn’t getting anything now if he was going to tease you about what had just happened.

"Why didn’t you tell me, doll?" Bucky finally asked, sounding much nicer.

You refused to look at him again. Your eyes were set on the sautéed vegetables. "It’s just… I don’t know. Figured you’d find it weird or something."

Bucky sighed. A metal hand came to your arm, rubbing gently. "Never think that, honey. I love exploring this stuff with you. I gotta know what my girl likes if I wanna keep her happy, right?" You could tell he was smiling widely at you. His words were making you blush uncontrollably.

You nodded, "I’ll try to remember that."

"Good," Bucky said as he came up behind you again. The motion too familiar from just seconds ago. "Now… Is there any other things that you like I should know about?"

A shiver went down your spine. You glanced at the metal hand laying softly on your hip. "I do wonder about your arm."

"My arm?"

"Mhm," you confirmed. "I wonder if it vibrates."

Bucky let out the wildest, deepest groan. "You’re going to be the death of me."

[reachexceedinggrasp]

I would love to hear your thoughts on why you like the Twelfth Doctor and Clara, individually and together, if you feel like talking about it! I've only seen what amounts to now half of New Who, Nine, Ten and Eleven, and I've been watching Twelve and wow. He's really special. Eleven is like the opposite of Twelve, he's so underhanded, yet Twelve is like generous even when he's harsh. It's so funny how different they are. What romantic beats do Twelve and Clara hit for you?

Haha sorry if that's a really broad question. I've been through your Tumblr tag for the pairing already lol. For a more specific question, what do you like about Twelve more than the other Doctors? And how does the Doctor and Clara compare to other ships you ship? Hope you are having a great day, I love your blog!

Oh, so you've already seen my Whouffaldi Text and Subtext dissertation. When I read your first ask, I was going to just lead with that lol.

I don't know if you read all my tag rambles where I talked a bit about some of this, but I'll try to explain why it's such a Ship of Dreams for me. There was actually a hurdle I had to get over, because my parents raised me on lots of Classic Who, so it did feel really weird to ship the Doctor. Just because I imprinted on it super young and related to him as a kind of avuncular figure lol. I know there's a whole wank about this in the fandom and a lot of old school fans are hardcore NoRomo and regard him as a totally non-sexual being, but the show has never supported that reading. (The First Doctor is not only travelling with his granddaughter- who is never implied not to be his literal, biological granddaughter- he also dated an Aztec woman and even flirts occasionally. All the Doctors flirt with the possible exception of Two. Four/Sarah Jane is borderline explicitly romantic.)

Anyway. That reluctance aside, this pairing is very nearly tailor-made to be Relevant to My Interests.

Because it's the 'unlikely on the surface' thing where they are from such vastly different worlds and have such vastly different frames of reference. He's a nigh-immortal prickly alien who is a weird combination of selfish trickster god and ethical paragon, who is always some degree of abrasive and impatient in every version of himself despite the fathomless well of compassion he has for all forms of life. The Doctor is always both a child and an ancient world-weary old man, which makes him a very complicated person to have a serious relationship with, even a platonic relationship. He's difficult. Where Clara is a normal adult with a normal maturity level and a primary school teacher ability to turn on a friendly, upbeat, nurturing social persona. People take her to be sweet and simple at first glance. They seem an odd match on the surface.

And I love a pairing where people on the outside can't imagine how it happened. I like when you can't judge the book by its cover. They slot into my broader Beauty and the Beast archetype (which really describes 99% of my ships in some capacity).

But even more so than that, they have a tangible, adult connection which is very grounded and real, but they are also this epic, all-encompassing, universe-destroying, can-be-contained-only-by-poetry, destinies entwined, deathless true love, Gothic Romance, out of hand soulmate thing. The Doctor endlessly incinerating his own body and chiselling away at the impossible for 4.5 billion years just for a potential opportunity to save her life? Not even be with her, just save her? A chance! Fucking ROMANCE. Clara's abject devastation that he would do that to himself, her equally insane antics to try to protect him, her realisation of being so overwhelmingly loved by this absolutely terrifying force of nature and her response to that being 'we're such idiots we should have talked about this, we're going to talk about this right now!' It takes until the very end, the utmost extreme, for Clara to recognise his devotion for what it is,

(because both of them have been idiots about this throughout their entire relationship- afraid to be hurt, afraid of all that it would mean, of change, afraid to be rejected again, etc. etc.- and have been pining away in denial that their feelings are mutual, paralysed by fear of losing each other)

but when she finally understands that he loves her, she has to wrestle with the Frightening Scope of Being So Loved and she rises to it, undiminished, boldly human and not needing to be any more than that to stand shoulder to shoulder with this profoundly alien personified time abyss who ushered in the end of all things to see her smile again. One smile. I'm breathless!!

I love that they're so different and there's such a massive disparity between how others perceive them, between the powers afforded them, yet they're also so similar and complementary and equal. They're both caretakers who tend to be bossy and controlling in part as an expression of that caretaking, they're both quite self-absorbed egoists who are capable of absolutely staggering selflessness, they're both idealists who refuse to give up, and they have the same sense of humour. There's a genuine intimacy and unspoken simpatico I think is unmatched by any other relationship the Doctor has ever had.

Each of them wrote and became a fairy tale for the other. Clara threw herself into his timeline and became The Impossible Girl, shattering herself into every fragment of his life to rescue him from being physically destroyed. Then she rescues him from being emotionally destroyed by stepping in to stop him using the Moment. Then she secures him a new set of regenerations. Clara is hope, she is his guardian angel. She became a story and then when she again stays to help him after he regenerates, they break down all the façades and idolisations between them and strip down to bare humanity. I talked about how her idealisation of the Doctor was broken down over series 8 in the post linked above, but he goes through the same thing with her. Their connection is tested and purified and rebuilt, always being reaffirmed, always growing stronger.

On the simplest level, they just adore each other. They can't stay apart because that affinity they share is irresistible; they're never bored if they're together and they work perfectly as a team. What makes it so special to me is that it's both this stupid simple mundane thing of they delight in one another's company like real people and it's this operatic epic of story and destiny and having woven themselves into each other's fate for all eternity. That's everything I want in a romance. I want the small and the big, Gothic drama and warm cosies. I want love which feels both transcendent and domestic.

Anyway, I'm kind of rambling but I love Magical/Mundane pairings, I love Immortal Fae Being/mortal angst, world-crossing, layers of identity, Sarcastic Aloof Super Genius with Heart of Gold/Vivacious Practical Person, Physically Powerful Man/Emotionally Powerful Woman, etc. They're ticking a lot of boxes.

And I love Twelve so much because a) Peter Capaldi is the only person to ever play the Doctor who played all the Doctors. He doesn't just feel like he's in continuity with the other regenerations where there are core traits that carry over, he feels like he tangibly still is all of them in this uncontrived and magical way. That he can contain all those aspects at once, that he's really the same man with the same interior landscape and actually lived all those lives, did all those things. He makes me believe it in a total, simple way I never quite have before. b) He and Tom Baker are the only two that, to me, genuinely felt alien and they both sometimes give me goosebumps because of that. They convey this point of view outside and beyond humanity which shouldn't even be possible for an actor to achieve, but which is necessary for the Doctor.

c) my many rants about forgiveness and compassion and how series 9 is the most profound, demanding, and uncompromising study of those themes in the last twenty years of anglo pop culture. Just absolutely unflinching idealism, all the more powerful and heroic because it's coming from such a deeply flawed character who has done truly horrific things himself. That Twelve can be so clearly worn down by darkness both within himself and out in the universe, be such a burdened melancholy character staggering under the weight of unspeakable guilt and terrible responsibility, yet be infused with so much childlike wonder and incorrigible curiosity, always excited to keep learning... always willing to hope.

Like I want to go on a whole side tangent about what a BRILLIANT cliffhanger Magician's Apprentice/Witch's Familiar is because the cliffhanger isn't about the plot or who will survive at all despite that being the ostensible stakes, it's about whether the Doctor will live up to his principles. And we know he's failed before. That's where the suspense is- vengeance and playing hero are temptations he's fallen to before. That the most brutally difficult mercy to give allowed for the possibility of victory is just...! Yes!!!

But also he's hilarious and grouchy, deeply profoundly kind and patient while also just having... zero time for people's nonsense (and people consist mostly of nonsense, so he doesn't have time for much). He will believe in and hope for the best from anyone, wants to save everyone, but he is almost exclusively irritated by social interaction. The dichotomy of his loving, compassionate embrace of all living things as infinitely valuable and his cloak of misanthropy is getting at something extremely poignant about the struggle to be an optimist in the real world.

And one of my favourite favourite things about Twelve is that the story doesn't just tell us he's brilliant and move along. We don't get only the normal outsider perspective of him seeming to know almost everything or pulling random quick fixes out of nowhere. We get to see his mind at work. Heaven Sent actually walks us through his genius and not only how he thinks, but how he makes it look effortless. It's just... one of the best character studies in the history of television. It's a masterclass on the Doctor: who he is, who he wants to be, and why he's such an infinitely wonderful, fascinating character.

And it's also a study of grief, of perseverance, of despair and hope. It is the most triumphant tragedy I've ever seen and everything about it is just so beautiful and so romantic. The Doctor breaking down and exhausted and wanting to give in, but roaring through Hell to keep living and keep striving in his cloak of tattered idealism because the flame of hope in his heart will never go out. It is majestic.

I love the Doctor because he's so full of contradictions while being such a vibrantly alive, resonant personality that we recognise as somehow 'real' or 'true', and no one incarnation encompasses a more vast range of these contradictions working in more perfect harmony than Twelve.

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long. 

—

main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus​ | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles​ | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp​ | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan​ | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles​​ | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much. 

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus​ | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup​ | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress​ | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace​ | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune​ | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau​ | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss​ | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry) 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou​ | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom​ | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily​ | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams​ | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere​ | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt​ | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie​ | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself) 

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny​ | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou​ | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz​ & read by @softlouislove​ | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace. 

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved​ | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies​ | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers​ | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting​ | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff. 

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[piperslovebot]

#everything about this scene is so great #the s3 premiere was pretty great tbh #best thing about how forwood came together was how tyler waited for consent #because he tried once and she said no once #that was it #if anything was going to happen between them #it was when caroline decided it would #and tyler wasn't going to pressure her #they were friends and he was happy being friends #yeah he wanted more #but she has already said no and that was that #and when it came down to it #tyler told her that he was there and all she had to do was say something #b/c it was all on her and caroline took the opportunity...and him #it was the best

[blessedboo]

Click! | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: A lazy Saturday w/ you and your boo, Angel. 

Requested: No. 

Prompt: THIS CUTE ASS PICTURE GAVE ME INSPIRATION. 

Warnings: That soft, fluffy shit. 

Word Count: 756

A/N: Honestly, this is one of my faves. Keepin’ it short & sweet. Also, this is a dream - could you imagine a goofy ass relationship like this w/ Angel?

“Baaaby! Mamaaa, come help—oh shit!” Angel yelled from the kitchen, neediness and chagrin exuded from his sleepily rasped voice. You laughed to yourself as you sprawled on the bed, shaking your head at Angel’s expressive nature.

There were several reasons to love mornings; the sky’s rich blues illuminated by the sun’s radiant gold, the melodious choruses of birds singing in harmony - a brand new day. 

However, your amateur chef of a lover was definitely your favorite. 

“What have you done now, babe?” You asked back, a bounce of a giggle sprung in your tone. 

“Shiiit, I think I burnt—argh, hot!—the eggs!” Angel groaned, winces of pain interrupting in between. 

You considerately covered your nostrils to stop the snorts and chortles, not wanting to make him feel even worse. Angel wasn’t the best cook, but he really did try, and that’s all that mattered - he made an effort for you. You couldn’t ask for anything more. 

“How in the hell do you—never mind,” you mumbled under your breath. “Get your ass back here!” 

You heard Angel’s exaggerated stomps of defeat come in through the door before the bed dipped behind you. He vocalized a loud humph as he slumped onto the back of your thighs. 

“Stop laughing at me,” he grumbled, childlike in essence. His words were muffled as he embarrassedly stuffed his face in between your legs, which only added to your amusement.

Looking back at him, you pouted sympathetically. “Aw, baaabe - it’s okay!” 

After stretching out his tantrum for a few more seconds, he lifted his head up. You were met with an unenthusiastic frown and furrowed eyebrows. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight; the gleaming rays of sun shined through the windows, highlighting his chiseled torso and an equally beautiful face. 

His raven locks were disheveled, either due to sleep … or last night’s sex. If it wasn’t draped over his forehead, it stuck up in every other direction. Deliciously sexy nonetheless. 

“You need a haircut, gruñón,” you smirked, throwing a pillow at him. 

Angel stuck his tongue out at you, a hearty chuckle erupting from his chest right after. Moving his head to the side, he raised his eyebrow as he noticed the photo booth screen on your laptop was on display. 

“What’re you up to, querida?” 

“Don’t know, felt cute. I wanted to take some pics.” 

“Mmm. Anyone else seeing these?” 

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ as you winked at yourself in the camera. “Why—Angel!” You squealed as he yanked your sweatpants down, leaving you in the blue panties that accentuated your ample assets just right. 

He stared at you unapologetically, a cheeky, big ol’ grin plastered on his face. You giggled, rolling your eyes at this expected behavior. 

“You naughty little shit.”

“Correction. Your naughty little shit.” 

Like a missing piece to the puzzle, Angel’s large hands palmed your ass perfectly, digging his fingers into your cheeks as if they were dough. His face beamed with boyish pleasure as he rubbed them, groaning in awe when he made them jiggle. 

By no means was this his first time, but his reactions never changed - nothing made his eyes light up more than your plump boot-ay. 

“Having fun back there, boo?” You rested your head on your hand as you amusingly watched him play away. He groped and squeezed, and groped some more. 

“You have no idea, mami,” he licked his lips, attentively glaring at your body with complete adoration. He slowly stroked your bare thighs up and down, his calloused fingertips trailing your smooth skin with purpose. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” 

Click! 

The sound of the snapshot shook him out of his daydream as his eyes darted to the screen. However, that look of confusion was soon replaced with pure, brazen-faced mischief.  

“Mm-hm. I’ll give you something to take a picture of,” he humorously threatened.

Before you could comprehend what he meant, Angel sent down two sharp slaps to the ass, grabbing them nice and rough after doing so. 

“Tsss! Daaamn!” You hissed, your eyes widening as you felt his teeth biting down on those cheeks. 

You shrieked in laughter while he alternated between long licks, open-mouthed kisses and feverish nibbles, his beard tickling you in the process. Your skin vibrated against his jovial chuckles, sounds of joy encompassing every corner of the love-filled room. 

Click! 

You peppered his face with sweet smooches, until he pulled you in for a passionate French kiss. 

Click! 

Angel toppled onto your back and lifted your shirt up from behind, exposing your breasts as he pulled a silly face.

Click!

__________________________________________

MAYANS TAG LIST:

@ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114  @claytoncardenasbabymama @multiyfandomgirl40 @justlikebreathing @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @chibsytelford @fvckthisbxtchup  @angelreyesgirl  @sheeshgivemeabreak @awildcur @gemini0410​ @lady-pswrld​

[Just ask if you’d like to be tagged!]

[vinylhazza]

ok so we all know that gray rushes/is eager about his relationships, but this time, what if the reader asks him to slow down or something? like she’s just getting started with her degree and she wants to slow down a bit, not rush into things, and eth agrees and gray is finally happy? also sorry if u aren’t taking concepts or requests lol

i feel like...low key....he needs this irl lol

this man doesn’t even have the phrase slow down in his vocabulary so when you say those words, the look of confusion that crossed over his face was to be expected. you knew you would have to spell it out for him, at least slightly. he gets in over his head with every relationship and wonders why they somehow fall apart so soon. some girls fall into that spell: the attractive guy wants me so it must be something real and true and they fall before they ever really form a strong bond, sliding to third base a time or two and tricking themselves into thinking it’s deeper than surface level lust. 

but you, you are not the ‘kick it into high gear’ type of gal and you thought you made that pretty obvious from the start. grayson gets attached easily, we all know that. you take your days one at a time, scope out the pros and cons of every situation. and you know, yeah it might be a trauma response from the countless times people have fucked you over and made you out to be a fool from a very young age, but that same mindset has helped you dodge many bullets over the years.

his first initial infatuation—it’s no different with you, but you are how do you say—hyper aware of his intentions and motives. you’ve been screwed over, toyed with, used your fair share of times and the world be damned to hell if some buff fluffy brown haired boy with amber eyes and a smile that oozes light and happiness comes in treating you like you’re this...lost treasure and you just believe him. believe all of the pretty words, take his hand and follow him into the dark, blindly let yourself love someone again not be sure of what they expect out of the relationship. and damn you if you let him swoop in and carry you off like a princess from a tall tower. like he’s this knight in shining armor. you won’t be fooled by the cloud of attraction and get yourself in too deep before you’re completely on the same page with one another. and first things first; you aren’t someone that needs to be saved, and neither is he.

you understand the puppy love stage of relationships. it’s bound to happen: the subtle obsession with your partner, that new light fuzzy feeling you get thinking about them, thinking of what they might be doing when they’re not with you, if they are thinking about you too, listening to all the sappy love songs and suddenly all you can think about is the color of their eyes after they’ve laughed real hard, the dip in their brow when they are thinking for a long time, the electric feeling that zaps your skin when they touch you, the way their voice lowers two octaves when they lean over and whisper something sweet in your ear, it’s all there for grayson. you know you’re falling in deep, and maybe that’s what scares you. maybe it’s the way you are so willing to trust him early on that leads you to the conversation of slowing things down. for the protection of the both of you, it’s not one sided.

not only had grayson made you feel secure in the very beginning of the sudden relation you had started, but he kept consistent with his actions and words. something that was unusual and strange after dealing with men that never really grew up beyond 16. at the stage of your life you’re in, there isn’t any room for a childish game of tag with a boy who didn’t have any intentions of sticking around in the first place.

you worked hard for everything you had, you always have. your upbringing wasn’t one of sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns. you didn’t have it easy. it wasn’t something that you used to weazle your way out of situations, excuse your occasional bad behavior, but it was something you thought about when you did catch glimpse of your growing attraction to someone. especially grayson, who was...one of the nicest men you had ever met. charming really didn’t even cut it. but just starting on your degree...complicated things. made you really want to reiterate to him that your degree, it was important to you and you fought tooth and nail to be able to even touch a college textbook. you couldn’t be blinded by his charms and be distracted from your dreams. there were times where the world seemed dark and hopeless and with hard work and perseverance you climbed out of that hole, just to stand as the strong intelligent woman he was falling head over heels for. you didn’t get that way over night. and you sure as well weren’t going to screw up your studies because you found someone that maybe wanted to stay, maybe didn’t. if the two of you were to work out and keep developing that beautiful bond - you hoped it would be as a team, one with understanding and clarity.

in your past experience, once a man knows he’s got you hooked, that’s the green light to treat you how they’ve wanted to the entire time. their once soft caress turns possessive, trust turns to assumption and blame, dates grow less and less frequent, and are left to sit and wonder what you ever saw in the first place. tricked, manipulated, and heartbroken. it’s never been honesty, love, and acceptance first. it’s “i love you” and “i care” when their actions don’t support their claims. you promised that the next boy you catches your heartstrings and strums until you’ve fallen under their spell, you would know exactly what you’re falling for. that means taking it slow, knowing what makes grayson tick, what he hates, what he adores, what brings him peace and comfort, if he cries during chick flicks, what kind of person he wants to be remembered as, if he fears the unknown as much as you do, was makes him completely and totally happy, and what infuriates him the fastest of all, what hardships has he had to face alone, what haunts his mind in the dead of night where no one can hear him crying, and what thought makes him smile when he’s doing nothing in particular. for once, just this once, you’re heart longed to know more that what meets the eye. you wanted to know if your feelings were 3 demensional, encompassing the good and bad about grayson, or if you truly just loved the way he fucked you.

but most importantly, you wanted him to know you. know the things about you that most people didn’t have the pleasure of knowing, all while making your dreams come true.

you thought maybe it was a mistake reaching out to ethan in your time of dire need of a shoulder to lean on, but it ended up being just the conversation and pat on the back you needed. the right nudge from the right person to have you sitting down with the softest soul you’ve come to find. grayson wasn’t someone you wanted to hurt, and ethan reassuring you that by talking to him and making him slow down, it would save him from more heartache than anything.

“i think it’s going to mellow him out, actually,” ethan nods along with your words, picking at a stray strand on his pants.

he wants what’s best for his twin, which is the exact reason you wanted to have this conversation with him. you didn’t want to mess something up and be rash and childish before anything real really even started, “grayson doesn’t really do ‘slow’, so this will be good for him.”

“i just don’t want to hurt him you know? i don’t want to be another girl that leaves so suddenly when he gets a bit too much. i know those are special circumstances and he was desperate with the desire of finding that special connection...” a pause to catch your breath, nervous from the vulnerability you’re showing already, “but when i make a commitment, i keep it. i want him to know that. i just want him to be secure within his decision to want...whatever this is with me. i want to be able to know him enough that my feelings for him are justified. and vice versa...i don’t want him to think that because i want to slow down, means i want to stop.”

“he will understand more than you think. if there is one thing i know about him, it’s that he will bend over backwards to make something he wants work. if he really wants you like i know he does, he will slow it down and make sure that you are comfortable. sounds like he doesn’t have much choice.” and it’s nice hearing those words from someone you haven’t gotten the chance to grow all that close with yet. hell you’re not even that close with grayson yet. you’re in the beginning stages still, learning your way around life with him in it. independence has always been one of the things that made you, well, you - and Grayson must understand you need more time before moving forward. 

“really?” your heavy sigh shows your nerves are shot from worrying about not just school, but about the many different outcomes of the talk you need to have with Grayson. it has to happen, but you’ve never been one for confrontation even if it’s ensuring a positive outcome for both parties. 

another shrug with a kind smile from ethan warms your heart, “just talk to him. he’ll appreciate your honesty. most of the other girls got wigged out and dipped, it’s going to mean so much more that you are wanting to stick it out even if it’s going too fast for you right now.”

growing up in a family full of huggers really shows when you step forward to wrap your arms around his waist for a split second, appreciative that he listened to understand and actually help you.

“thank you e, i hope he doesn’t just think i’m trying to make excuses and leave.”

when you pull away he is smiling still, pleasantly surprised by your friendly hug. with a light squeeze to your shoulder and a soft sort of smirk playing on his lips, he gives you just the advice you needed.

“something i’ve learned being his twin; give him a little more credit.”

when  you have that conversation that had you so nervous your stomach tossed and turned all day long, you make sure you’re chanting ethans words over in your head. breathe. it’ll be fine. he will understand. give him a little more credit. he really wants you. the words play like a song through your head as you wait for him to sit back down on the white floral sheet in the softest patch of grass in your backyard. water spills from the glass in his hand as he plops onto the ground in a heap of giggles, muttering “fuck” softly, trying (and failing of course) to wipe the water off of his light blue button up shirt. it’s a good color on him, and you’re momentarily distracted from how attractive he looks in the late afternoon sun. 

when you first met grayson, he had stumbled upon you sitting all by yourself in a small park, book in hand, peach in the other, completely unsuspecting that you would catch his heart captive when you glanced up with a smile that just about made him pass out. you were still surprised months later that he had had the nerve to say a word to you, he looked ill with anxiety to even utter a word. it was a day you’d never forget - and you would try and remember that innocent look in his eye when you explain why you had planned this picnic in the first place. to talk, to listen, to understand. 

you figure if you really want to have the conversation be as smooth as it can be for the both of you, you could take it back to the very start. a simple picnic, with a lot of hope for the future.

after the laughter fit falls down, it’s time to get to the root of the issue. you prepare yourself with a deep breath in, holding in for a few seconds with your eyes closed, then slowly releasing when you look back at the questioning raise of his eyebrows. when he cocks his head to the side, you know it’s now or never. if you don't say it now, you might regret it. 

“I actually brought you here so that we could have a talk real quick,” you finally explain, making sure to maintain eye contact and drink in ever facial expression he may have - just so you know how to go forward. 

“you know you can talk to me about anything, is something wrong?” He’s so soft with the way he talks, never suspecting anything like what he’s about to hear, and it almost hurts to know you’ll be disappointing him in some way. 

“nothing is really wrong...i just think maybe...we should slow it down for a bit.” 

“what do you mean? we just got here,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his water with a shake of his head. not understanding, his fingers fiddle with the fringe at the bottom of your sundress. 

you continue without stopping, ignoring his joke and hopefully make him see you aren’t here to fool around, at least not entirely. it was a serious talk for once and you wanted him to respect what you had to say. 

“-not go so fast we miss the exciting part of getting to know one another,” you carry on to a now confused, sorrowful looking grayson, finally understanding that you weren’t talking so much about the picnic - but the two of you as a whole. 

“i still want this—still want you i mean. but i just...want us to be us for a bit and not worry so much about the next step and then the one after that and the one after that and-” 

he holds his hand up to stop you, cutting you off while looking at the ground deep in thought. setting the water down slowly, he climbs back up to his feet. you watch him patiently while he treads through the clipped grass, knowing he’s trying hard not to overreact and over think. After what feels like eternity, he sits down with his hands hanging off his knees, picking at a blade of grass he’s ripped from the earth beneath him. 

“have i pushed you?” 

sweet boy, always trying to take blame.

with a small smile you shake your head, “you haven’t pushed me at all gray. I just want this to grow - want us to grow. i don’t want you getting in too deep before you’re sure you’re ready for all of the things i’m looking for in the future and likewise.” 

another nod of understanding, he was listening close. his respect for you grow tenfold, you had the courage to not let your lust or even affection cloud your judgement and you were honest with him. something that grayson admired most from anyone he let into his life was honesty. 

“i’m not very good with slow but i’m sure you’re probably right,” he laughs more at himself than anything, “i just get carried away. especially with a woman like you. how couldn’t i?” 

always the flirt. and a good one at that. he always knew exactly what to say to get you blushing, which is exactly why you hide your face bashfully in your shoulder for a few moments before you could look back at him admiring you. 

“I hope you know that this is different though, Y/n. I can’t exactly explain how, but you should know i’ve never felt this way for anyone no matter how many times i’ve tried to convince myself otherwise in the past out of...fear, shame, even guilt. it’s different. and because of that difference, i know i can’t be selfish with you.” 

for once you’re grateful for your mothers voice at the back of your head nudging you to let your heart be open, because without that voice, you would never be sitting in the grass with a man that truly does want to respect your boundaries and looks at you like you’re made of exquisite glass. you wouldn’t have memorized the soft texture of his lips as you lean in to kiss him, or the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek. you wouldn’t know the sound of his relived sigh, or the giggle that breaks the kiss only a few seconds later. and you wouldn’t have the clarity that you so desperately craved. 

if there is one thing you knew for sure it’s that he is telling the truth. his truth shows with the delicate placement of his hands, the soft caress of his thumb on your cheek, his fingers running through your hair, and all the other ways he shows his adoration for you every day that you wish to hold on to forever. you know that the waiting and slow pace will be worth it in the end and the slow burn will turn into the blazing fire that you can already tell shines in his eyes. your hesitation has nothing to do with him but a past you would explain in due time. 

for now, you’d continue kissing him on the sheet that smelt faintly of laundry detergent, in the backyard of your quaint apartment on 26th and Broadway, with his hand in your hair, lips pressed gently against yours, and a whole heart full of hope for a long future of days just like this. 

[sweetsubharry]

Hey Lott! Any chance you could grace us with a punk Louis fic rec? That would literally make my day! (No rush). Thank you sm<3 you are amazing

Hiya! awh that’s so kind of you to say! I would love to!!! I love punk Louis au!! I hope you like this! 💖 ^-^

please remember to stay safe and read the tags everyone!

In All Its Imperfections by BriaMaria 

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?”

Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou

'Just like a little cat,' Louis thought later, as he drifted off to sleep. 'A little kitten with his claws sunk right into me.' It isn’t that terrible of a thought, after all. ............. Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

tell me that I'm wrong but I do what I please by moonlightlouis

au where Harry and Louis are in a relationship and someone hurts louis' baby so he defends his honor

but he cant be what you need (if he's eighteen) by lingerielarries

“I need you to do something for me.” Harry said, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

“It seems like you’re asking me to kill for you, H.” Louis laughed nervously.

“It’s nothing that drastic, I promise. It’s just. I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m not a.. normal eighteen year old.” Louis furrowed his eyebrows at that, narrowing his eyes at the younger boy.

“Are people giving you a hard time?” Louis wondered. Harry shifted in his seat and brushed some of his fringe off his forehead.

“Yeah, that’s. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Harry swallowed nervously. He could feel the sweat pooling at his hairline so he wiped it with the sleeve of his sweater. “I need you to uhm, pretend to be my boyfriend.”

or

the one where harry is sick of getting bullied and casts louis as the hot punk boyfriend to scare them away. louis needs harry to return the favor.

punk!louis and flowerchild!harry

the love is ours to make (so we should make it) by lingerielarries

“I’m.. Harry. I nanny? For Ernest and Doris?” Harry responded.

“A nanny? How old even are you? You look twelve.” Louis remarked. Something caught Louis’ eye, and a closer look revealed that Harry had a coat of pink nail polish on his fingers.

“Nineteen. I’m nineteen.” Harry replied.

“Right. Nineteen, wears pink, flower crowns and paints his nails. Who the actual fuck did my mum hire?”

or

the one where louis takes some time off from life to return home, only to be met with a strange boy in pink and a flowercrown as the nanny of his siblings.

You're So Square (Baby I Don't Care) by mmaree

“So does it say who my new co-counsellor is?”

“Yeah, it does.” Zayn doesn’t even try to hide his smirk and Louis just knows.

He sucks in a breath. “It’s that bloody Styles kid, isn’t it?”

Zayn starts cackling, and Louis takes a moment to rethink every life decision he’s ever made, figure out where he went wrong and why karma hates him so much.

“I’m stuck with Britain’s Biggest Boy Scout for the rest of the summer, aren’t I?”

***

Or a summer camp au where Louis tries to sort out whether he wants to murder or snog his perky co-counsellor.

Way to Your Heart by fallenflowercrowns

High school AU, where Louis is in a band and Harry likes to come to the rehearshals for no particular reason. Punk Louis with a lot of tattoos and everything. Shy Harry with an angel face and not many friends. Strangers to lovers. Quick sex in the rehearshals' room (just handjob or blowjob) Happy end.

Harry pines but is oblivious, Louis is a punk with a big heart, Ziam shag behind everyone's backs and Nick is actually not in love with Harry.

Your Nickel Ain't Worth My Dime by orphan_account

Louis just moved into a house next to Harry, and they have bedroom windows that face each other.

Piercing The Petals by orphan_account 

"You're really pretty."

"Thanks Lou." Harry blushed. Louis couldn't help but smirk at the boy with flowers on his brown locks.

"Tell you what, If you let me fuck you into this mattress, I'll make you a new crown. Whichever flower you want. Colours and all." And Harry didn't need to be told twice before he started stripping.

The Moments When My Good Times Start to Fade by paintsplatteredteardrops

Where Harry is a flower child who works in a bakery and Louis is a guitarist who has no idea what it is he wants.

Because We Can by KrisStylinson

Harry's the bizzare new kid who likes flowers too much, Louis' the epitome of punk who's not as smooth as he seems. Those two things shouldn't mix as beautifully as they do.

A nice, long journey through Harry and Louis' intersecting lives, starting with the day they meet in high school—including meddling friends, a Styles-Tomlinson family Christmas, a first time, and a couple's holiday in Paris.

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode

Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

Forget Your Ex by RainbowSkinnies

He just had to get right back on the horse, that’s what Harry kept telling himself. It was what Nick had told him he should do too, because after all, wasn’t that the way to get over someone; to get under someone else? Sayings like that had to exist for a reason...

When Harry's boyfriend of two years leaves him for someone else, it's fair to say he's rather a bit upset, but his friends have a solution for him. Nick and Niall are hosting a start of term house party at their flat, having invited everyone they know from uni. Who knows, with a bit of luck Harry can find a rebound shag and finally forget his ex...

[dolansontheblock]

Hi!! Can you write a blurb about Grayson forgetting Y/Ns birthday? ☺️

masterlist

hi love, thanks for sending this in🥰🥰 i kind of set it up to be a two parter, if y’all want that👀 also if anyone wants to be tagged i can start a tag list!

Growing up, you loved your birthday. You adored having all the attention, getting gifts you had wanted the past months, eating your favorite cake, everything about it.

But as you grew up, you started to not enjoy it as much. Your birthday lost that spark you had growing up. It just made you sad now. It made you sad because you felt that with each year passing, you weren’t accomplishing enough. You were given a whole year, twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days and you didn’t do what you should’ve with it.

Birthdays became a lowkey thing after a while, you stopped celebrating it with friends, didn’t talk about it in school, big parties with extended family turned into small dinners with your parents and siblings with a small cake finishing off the quite night. It was safe to say the spark had gone out, and you thought it would never come back.

Grayson knew that your birthday was a sensitive topic, you always grew quite whenever one of his friends or family asked about it. He would just do his best to steer the conversation in a different direction when birthdays were the topic.

You had eventually confided in him about your feelings. He was the first person you ever expressed them too. It was after you both had attended a dinner with your family, celebrating your dad’s birthday.

You were both getting ready for bed, deciding to spend the night at his place. You were in bed when he pulled the covers back to climb in, heavy sighing as he did. You knew it was coming, he was easy for you to read. He turned to lay on his side, facing you before he asked.

“Why don’t you like birthdays?” You stares at your fingers, playing with the end of the comforter while the gears in your brain started turning. You felt like it was silly. Your disstain for birthdays was stupid, you didn’t want to admit it just for him to laugh it off.

So you told him, you expressed how your views on them changed. How you felt like you were wasting the time that was given to you on this Earth. How every year, no matter how hard you tried, it wasn’t good enough. Throughout the whole conversation, he listened to you without judgment. He held you that night and assured you that none of your time was being wasted, that everyday you did something worthwhile, whether you realize it or not. It was that night he vowed to make you birthday something to look forward to.

Fast forward six months and your birthday was just around the corner. But this year, you were a little excited for your birthday, you felt like you’d done something. You had graduated with your Bachelors in Production, gotten into your top university for your masters, and you were in a relationship that made you genuinely feel happy, for the first time in forever.

Your birthday landed on a Saturday this year, and a few of your friends had already planned on taking you out the night before, which you agreed to fairly easy. You wanted to keep your actual birthday evening for just you and Grayson, excited to spend it with the person you loved, even if you hadn’t verbally expressed it yet.

You were just putting in your earrings when he walked in, he stopped for a brief moment to look at you, before continuing to the closet.

“Where are you going sweets? You look beautiful.” You couldn’t help but blush, his words always caused that fluttering feeling in your stomach no matter what.

“Out with the girls for a celebratory dinner then maybe to dance.” You walked up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist, placing a small kiss on his shoulder. He turned in your arms and placed his hands on your lower back, eyes gazing into yours.

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows at you. “Just make sure you end up in my bed tonight, no one else’s.” He bent down to kiss your lips, squeezing your behind as he did.

“You know I always will. Anyways tomorrow will be just you and I.” You both smiled at each other, enjoying the warm embrace encompassing the two of you. Just as Grayson was opening his mouth to speak, your phone went off. You looked at the text to see that your friends had arrived so you collected your purse and gave yourself one more look in the mirror.

“You look stunning, don’t keep them waiting, the longer you do the longer I’m here without you.” Grayson came up behind you, grabbed your purse and put the lipstick that was on your vanity in it before planting a kiss on your head.

“What would I do without you?” He always remembered the little things, it made you feel so incredible to know he cared.

“Have bare lips, now off with you. I love you.” He smiled at you as you rushed out of the room with a quick love you back, and into the night.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself tonight, dinner was delicious and you were in your uber on the way to the club, you and your best friends Emma, Lydia, and Lauren were all buzzed, singing throwback jams without a care in the world when Grayson called. The driver quickly turned the music down and you answered.

“Hi my love.” You smiled into the phone.

“Hi sweets, how was dinner?”

“Great, amazing, fantastic. We’re on the way to the club now, I might be a little tipsy.” You giggled into the phone, your friends sending kissy faces your way.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself sweets, I’m going to bed but I wanted to say good night in case I don’t see you in the morning,” You frowned, why wouldn’t you see him? It was your birthday after all. “I’ll be leaving early in the morning for a few meetings we scheduled tonight last minute in San Fransisco. They run pretty late so I’ll be spending the night there and I’ll fly back in the morning.”

The mood instantly shifted in the car, your friends felt it, Grayson felt it, hell, even your uber driver felt it. You crossed your legs and took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t be coming home tonight anyways, I’m spending the night at Lydia’s. Enjoy your trip.” You quickly hung up the phone, not wanting to hear another word. You knew for sure that he knew you were upset. You’re never that short with him, and you never end a phone call without saying I love you.

Your friends all looked to you with sympathetic faces, they knew you almost as well as you knew yourself.

“Well,” Hannah three her hands on her legs. “Looks like we’re going to be out all fucking night, huh ladies? Might as well make it a whole weekend affair.” She turned to the under driver, “Take the next exit, we’re going to the airport.”

[blackandblueandstars]

Consumed

A/N: Received a request to do a MC x Rheya fic which has been a fun experience. Enjoy!

Amy loved Kamilah. She had gone to battle for her, given her life for her. The love she felt for her was all-encompassing, unlike anything she’d ever known. She never thought she could feel more strongly for another, never thought she could love another.

And then, Rheya crashed into her world like a god-damn meteor, shattering what she thought she knew. Her body was electric in her presence, humming with some unspoken bond, an animal magnetism like anything she’d ever before known.

Amy loved Kamilah, but she was consumed by Rheya. Her dark eyes devoured her whole, her heart speeding and slowing at the flick of her wrist. Her blood begged for her presence, her touch.

Kamilah knew, the moment she saw them together. Amy had been nothing but loyal, but that pull was greater than her will. She recognized it instantly -- the very same draw she’d felt with Gaius. Kamilah didn’t do jealousy, it was such a human emotion. But seeing them together struck her in a way she’d never before felt, and though she despised the word, nothing else seemed more accurate.

It had only been days since Rheya had rescued Amy, a knight in shining armor if there was ever one written. She had brought peace to the restless city, saved them all from sure destruction. Even Kamilah had to admit she was a little turned on. So, it was hard to blame her love for feeling these emotions, for struggling to stay faithful.

Amy hated herself, she hated every cell of her being that sang Rheya’s name when she walked in the room. She hated the delicious pool of heat in the bottom of her stomach when her hand brushed against her skin. She loved Kamilah, she reminded herself. And she did, she did love Kamilah. But Rheya...she was a fucking godess. The way she walked through the room, the command she had over vampires and humans alike...Amy was shook.

Four days after Rheya had rescued her, she finally had enough. Sitting next to Kamilah, between meetings, Amy looked at her carefully.

“Kami?” she asked gently, feeling a certain warmth for the beautiful, serious vampire.

“Yes?” she replied without looking up.

“What are your thoughts on monogamy?” she asked carefully, watching to see her reaction.

Kamilah stilled. She knew this conversation would come, but she hadn’t realized it would come so quickly.

“Well,” Kamilah began, frowning. “I’ve always believed that monogamy was a particularly human trait,” she said with disgust.

“So you would want to sleep with someone else?” asked Amy. “Or, have an entire separate relationship?”

Kamilah’s brows furrowed. “Amy, why don’t you say what you mean?”

Amy frowned, backing up slightly. “I just...I want to be upfront about how I’m feeling,” she began. “Ever since Rheya showed up, I’ve been feeling…”

“You want to fuck her,” Kamilah snapped. She closed her eyes, disappointed in herself. She knew that her jealousy was not helping matters, and that if she wasn’t careful she would push Amy right into Rheya’s arms.

“I just feel drawn to her,” Amy whispered. “It’s like, I’m not even myself. It’s as if I don’t have control of my body, my senses…it’s just--her.”

“Yes, she’s quite alluring,” Kamilah replied coldly.

“I’m sorry--” Amy began.

“No,” Kamilah interrupted. “I apologize. I don’t mean to shame you for your feelings. I appreciate you trusting me enough to share them with me. I just…” she sighed. “I am experiencing feelings of my own. Feelings of---jealousy,” she said, lip curled in disgust. “You are the only person I’ve ever felt this way towards.”

“Oh Kamilah,” said Amy gently, touching her arm. “I’m sorry, I won’t speak of it again.”

“No,” said Kamilah. “I’ve seen the two of you together. I know that this isn’t just going to go away. I suppose I could be okay with you having a physical relationship with Rheya.”

Amy’s eyes widened, her heart racing. Was she saying what she thought she was saying?

“You mean…” she stumbled.

“We would need to establish some ground rules,” said Kamilah. “But I want you to be happy and fulfilled, and even I can understand your attraction to Rheya.”

“Oh!” said Amy, surprised. “You’re attracted to her too?”

Kamilah looked away, blushing slightly. “I mean, I--”

“We could…” Amy couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence. The thought of having Kamilah and Rheya was too much for her to handle.

Kamilah watched the girl she had come to love, her eyes blazing. Her cute, dorky ways had grown on her, but the look in her eyes was not dorky, nor cute. It was pure fire, and Kamilah wanted nothing more than to burn in those flames. Even if it meant dancing in the fire with...someone else.

“I’m with you, Amy,” she said, the words uncaging something in her, freeing something she hadn’t known was trapped. “Whatever you want, I want to make your fantasy come true.”

Amy felt electricity firing through her veins, the same buzzing that she’d thought had only been reserved for Rheya. Kamilah met her eyes, their liquid gold matching the warmth pooling inside her.

“Fuck,” thought Amy. She reached out her hand, taking Kamilah’s in hers.

“I want you,” she said, slowly, almost hypnotizing. “And Rheya.”

Kamilah shook at the thought, the desire that filled her. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”

Final word count: 891

Tag list: @h-doodles @scarlet-letter-a0114 @wildsayeed @lightning-fury  @galaxyside-0 @blogsupitssam  @ilovetaylor13m @la-guera-69 @adrianrainesworld @iam-the-fuckin-queen @hela-odinsdottir @jen825 @sheyah @lifesadance96 @theoblivionforest @kamilahsayeed-owns-me @sayeedbound @scaryqueenbee @kamilahismyqueen

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

For those who don’t know, it’s Thanksgiving for me right about now. And this year, I have a lot more to be thankful for than usual, and I’ve been feeling pretty sappy all week, so what else am I to do but snipe?

Except this snipe will be a little different, mostly because I’m currently a very tired, sappy dork. And after so many snipes, well, this one has to stand out some how. How have I chosen to accomplish this?

By being a fool and talking about where I began and where I am now for all of my lovely, wonderful irreplaceable friendships, of course!

I apologize in advance if I make the sin of forgetting anyone- I am tired, and generally forgetful- but I do hope that won’t happen.

So, without further ado... a sniping which my Fear of Emotional Vulnerability will absolutely kill me over later:

@blinksinbewilderment I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- being Blink’s friend is honestly surreal at times. Since first seeing her art, I’ve always thought she was cool. After all, her art was beautiful, and from what I could tell of her personality, she was too. And honestly, I don't know how, exactly, I managed to get from being nervous about sending her askes to randomly in the dead of night sending her silly, stupid comics that remind me of her. She’s absolutely brilliant, though, and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for galaxies.

@vintage-squid I forget our true first interactions, but I do think our friendship really sparked first when I, with little prompting, engaging Squid in what was one of my, if not my first, fluster battle. And when our first private conversation was them asking if I was alright, somehow knowing I had had a bad night despite no indicators from me of anything amiss... well, I do think our friendship was destined from the start. But that doesn’t make it, or Squid, any less wonderful.

@rosesisupposes The first memory I attach to Roses is Gay. I was around when she was writing Starlight is Forever, and that fic not only stole my breath but likely influenced a lot of my own writing- if I’m being perfectly honest, seeing the beauty in fanfiction, especially TS fanfic, through Roses’s writing... it’s likely what got me invested in writing fanfic at all. And from me adoring her gays, I now have it on good authority she’s quite fond of mine as well. I’ve also been lucky enough to get the chance to truly know her, and I can say with absolute certainty that she is as breathtaking as her writing.

@notveryglittery I have a very specific first memory for Dani- seeing messages in Discord from around 3 am her time, Lulu and I believe Hawthorn cajoling her into getting to bed. Along with that came the way that those two (and Roses) seemed so in love with her- I’ll admit, I didn’t understand it at first, even if I found their interactions overwhelmingly pure. But now that I have somehow managed to worm my way into her group of friends... I’m not sure I’ve ever understood something more in my entire life. Of all the nicknames she has, darling Dani will remain one of the truest.

@mariniacipher Our first interaction I remember amazingly, because honestly? It was one of the first interactions I really had in TMCE, one that would lead to so, so many more (it was the floof war, Helena, if you remember that). Nerf guns and compliments. I don’t know why, exactly, but she always felt like she was a level higher than me in some way... and yet somehow I have ended up her friend, through lengthy talks of AUs and simple (yet complex) snipings. And I am blessed to know someone so enchanting in all definitions of the word.

@centrumlumina I don’t think simply joining her server counts as a first interaction, but to be frank (and I apologize for this) I do not remember our true first interaction. But joining her server was incredibly important- hell, it’s the reason I’m here, now, as Lia, writing this sappy post in the first place. The server has given me more than I could ever put into words, and I owe all of that to Lulu, who is a spectacular person, smart and nice and fun, who I am thoroughly glad to know.

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors I think my first interaction with Violet was complimenting one of their LAOFT extras- remile, Emile having just fainted. I didn’t even know LAOFT existed back then, which is probably good, considering I would likely have never interacted with them if I knew what an incredible, amazing series they had written (and are still adding to!). I’m not quite sure how we’re close now, honestly- I feel as if we haven’t interacted enough for it, and yet, it’s so easy to fall in love with Violet’s fae knowledge, with their confidence, and their general and all-encompassing beauty. Violet is absolutely lovely, and I hope that flowers will always grow in their wake.

@enderbird Doppelganger, I shall never forget our first meeting- same names, and Blink playing quick messenger between us. I don’t think I’ve ever so strongly known I was going to be friends with someone before I met Mariana. She was so much fun to talk to from the very beginning, and she retains all her charm now as well. Even if she is a bird, and techincally my enemy, I will always consider Mariana friend- and an awesome one at that.

@sign-from-god-complex First true interaction? When he left that one tag comment on one of my fics- ‘fraid I don’t remember which- talking about how the author (I) had so many fics he liked. I responded by aggressively binging Lo’s fics. I thought that was how our relationship would remain- me awkwardly thinking he was super cool, adoring his writing and awkwardly commenting on that every once and a while, nothing more. Striking up a convo in his inbox was a sleep-deprived choice... but it is not one I regret. Lo’s a truly amazing person, one whom I’m glad to now properly interact with and know.

@ all my anons; I have so many anons now, I think it’d be impossible to try and list all of them, to remember the start and end of all our convos. But that in and of itself is such an amazing feat- I never expected to have so many friendos, anonymous or otherwise, and I am eternally grateful for all of you. From my very first regular anon- Hewo- to my most recently named- Centermetre- and every anon (with or without a sign-off) in-between, all of you are unique, incredible individuals whom I am so glad I have the chance to know.

@ everyone else; Like I said, my memory’s not great. I am certain there are people I have unintentionally forgotten, people who deserve a place on this list as much as those on it do, and are only off due to the sins of my faulty memory. To all of those people- are interactions, too, mean worlds to me. Getting to know all of you has been a gift that I never expected to have, and I hope that I will be able to continue getting to know you with every day that passes.

tl;dr- Lia is a fucking sap for a good dozen paragraphs, he’ll now be going to hide in a pit for several years because Vulnerability is scary and funky but honestly his friends are worth it.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

I Hate Love Songs

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1,157

Warnings: just fluff

Summary: You hate love songs, Valentine’s Day, all that mushy gushy shit, but you know one thing for certain: you love Jensen Ackles.

Squared Filled: I Hate Love Songs- Kelsea Ballerini // First Date

Author’s Note: This is for @spnsongchallengebingo and @spndeanbingo  respectively and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

All those cheesy romantic movies, the cliché gestures, the mushy materialistic things, and everything else that encompasses modern romance made you want to gag in disgust. Your hatred for the topic isn’t new, and everyone you come into contact with knew this part about you since you’re so open with it. Love itself isn’t gross, but the things that couples do to show it is.

Valentine’s cards, chocolate, and flowers, hearts that are attached to teddy bears, romantic movies, serenading someone, boombox outside the bedroom window, and love songs.

God, you really fucking hate love songs.

I hate Shakespeare and Gosling and cakes with white frosting Two names in a heart-shaped tattoo I think cupid is stupid and violets are purple not blue I hate catching bouquets, the honeymoon phase And letterman jackets don't fit Your eyes can't hold stars and you'd die if your heart really skipped

“I’m glad we have the time to do this,” Jensen said with a smile on his face. He had asked you out a few weeks ago when your older sister Brianna Buckmaster decided to bring you onto set to meet everyone. They had all been so welcoming, and as much as you loved meeting them, Jensen is the one who captured your heart and attention. He was the one to show you around set when Brianna was filming, and he even let you ride in the famous black Impala. After you left that day, you begged Brianna to bring you back some more. You begged her so often, she let you have a piece of her trailer so you could stay in overnights.

“Me too. Are you excited to direct the first episode of season 15?” you asked with a smile as you ate some of your appetizers.

“I am. I’ve directed before, but this is the last season so I really want to try hard and make it count.”

“I’ve seen the episodes you’ve directed, and I have to say if you're that good on those ones, you’re going to be amazing with this one,” you complimented him. Before he had a chance to answer, waitresses and waiters came out of the kitchen holding a cake with white frosting along with a huge red heart on top with two initials on either side of it. They walked right past you and to the couple across from you before saying “Happy Anniversary” to them. You must have shown your disgust because Jensen picked up on this immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate cakes with white frosting and those red hearts with initials,” you sighed with a shake of your heart.

“Not a fan of romance?”

“I am, just not this cheesy shit. Cakes with white frosting remind me of weddings and that reminds me of catching bouquets, and the honeymoon phase, and it all makes me shiver. I’m all for loving someone, but there isn’t a need in expressing it that much.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled. It should have scared him off, but he was only attractive to you more.

I hate pink hearts with glitter and Valentine's dinner And roses just die in a week We were drunk when we met so we don't know our anniversary, whoops Oh and I'm far too vain to kiss in the rain The clouds, they aren't numbered to nine And you make me feel something but it sure as hell ain't butterflies

“Isn’t it every girl’s dream to be kissed in the rain?” Jensen asked after you two left the theater. Your relationship has been growing and flourishing so much, you were thinking about asking him to move in with you, or you with him. Your sister must be sick and tired of you stealing most of her trailer, and you knew Jenson has complained about his being a little too lonely for his taste.

“Hell no. It’s not mine. Do you know how long it took me to do my hair? Or put on makeup? I’m sorry, but I don’t think any kind of kiss is worth ruining the work I put into making myself look this good,” you said seriously. Jensen laughed at your vanity as the two of you stayed underneath the canopy while you both waited for an Uber to take you back to set.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he chuckled. He loved how much you didn't like this stuff because all the other girls he’s dated wanted flowers, chocolates, hearts, and all the other mushy stuff. You were different, and he liked it.

“I’m being serious,” you laughed.

“I know you are which is why it’s better than if you’re not,” he chuckled as he took off his jacket so you could use it to shield all of your hard work when the Uber finally pulled up.

And I'll always love you but I don't have to sing it "For worse or for better" don't rhyme They say I got the right one so now I should write one But I'd rather just show you tonight

“Thank God we’re writing our own vows,” you muttered as Brianna helped zip up your beautiful wedding dress. Jensen was waiting at the altar for you, and you couldn’t have been more happy to marry the love of your life. There were many ways that you could show him you love him, but you sure as hell won’t put it in a song and sing it. You’d rather show him than tell him.

“What’s wrong with the traditional vows?” she asked after she was done.

“Come on, ‘for worse or for better’ don’t rhyme. They are such a cliché, and I’d rather use real-life examples to tell him how I feel rather than the traditional ones that everyone uses.”

“Fair enough. You know, Jensen is going to flip when he sees you in that dress.”

“I know,” you grinned. You looked beautiful, and you couldn't wait to see the look on his face as you walked down the aisle.

I hate love songs (I hate love songs) Yeah, I really do (I really do) I hate love songs (I hate love songs) But I love you

“Oh, tonight could not have come any faster,” you huffed as you fell onto the couch next to your husband. Supernatural was over and done with, but he was working on some new projects while you are working on some others. Two different schedules, but you both made sure you had tonight off so you could spend it together.

“I agree,” he smiled as he placed a hand on your thigh lazily with his phone in his other hand. Looking at him, you studied his profile with such admiration and love. This man has been there for you through everything, and your heart couldn't help but swell at the thought of him.

“I love you,” you smiled. He turned his head to you to match the smile you gave him.

“I know.”

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@flamencodiva @pisces-cutie @wingedcatninja @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester  @kiwihoee  @thefaithfulwriter  @li-ssu  @babypink224221  @winchesterweirdo  @jennazeise  @calaofnoldor  @emoryhemsworth  @miraclesoflove  @xxboesefrauxx  @kendall-michele  @winchest3rbros

[janiedean]

gwenspiration self-recs

I was tagged by @jaimebrienneonline​ for this thank you!

sooo, the challenge was:

Taking the idea from the amazing Gwendoline Christie, we should be promoting ourselves and not acting like our creative endeavors are worthless. In that vein, I challenge everyone to blog their favorite of their own works, art, fic, meta, manip, doll story, whatever it may be.

aaand okay so I’m usually really bad at self-reccing so I’ll just go ahead and do a top five fics and a few meta links - this is not necessarily my most read stuff or whatever but if I have to choose in between my own children I will ;) also sticking to asoiaf/jb-centric stuff or it turns into a problem lmao [also I’m not putting some flowers bloom dead on this because I don’t wanna rec stuff I haven’t finished]

in the darkness on the edge of town: (jb, hooker au, explicit content) okay I don’t even know how to put this without sounding ridiculous but I honestly think it’s some of the best writing I put out period and I ended up putting an amount of blood sweat and tears I hadn’t anticipated into it but I loved doing it overall (because I also went and put in it everything I like writing about ngl and yes I have a thing for hooker au and I apparently succeeded in making it feel like a springsteen song so I’m proud of myself thank you) and I’m really happy with how it turned out. also, I gave myself confirmation that if springsteen’s involved my productivity arises.

I'm not a pretty girl, that's not what I do: (jb, brienne-centric with focus on her issues with her looks and femininity) long story short, I didn’t say it in the a/n when I posted this for the spitefic series because I wanted to check the reactions to it but now that it’s been months I can say it: this is the most personal thing I’ve ever put to fic in my entire life including specifically recycling my own childhood experiences into brienne’s and tackling directly 80% of the issues me and her have in common. and I think it came out pretty damn good and I also was flattered with the response I got to it because a lot of people commented about how relatable those issues were and just, this damned fic means a lot to me so have it ;)

conventions and inconveniences of the stage series (theon/robb, jaime/brienne, jonc/brynden tully for now, opera singers au series): okay this is a series so I’m cheating BUT I’m just really attached to all of the fics in it because a) I love opera and I was delighted that people actually read them and liked it regardless of the obscure subjects, b) they gave me the chance to branch out a lot, c) for now I had fics for two ships I dearly love (throbb and jb) and that have meant a lot to me in this fandom AND then the crackship I cultivated with a lot of love and care to which I gave one of my favorite operas in existence and I loved writing each single one of these fics and I think I’ve done a pretty good job with them and sorry but I picked the perfect operas for all of them and I’m dying on that hill. don carlo is 100% the throbb opera and fidelio is 10000% the jb opera you won’t take that from me. ;)

all knights are gallant and all maids are beautiful (jb, side-jc, genderbend): admittedly I wrote this thing out of spite because I hate that people refuse to see that jc is, in fact, a darned abusive dynamic but they wouldn’t say that if the genders were reversed so I went and genderbent all three of them just to prove the damned point of it and other than being very satisfied at how it turned out it was a fairly cathartic exercise to write it because that issue is really sitting badly on my stomach and has been for ages. so yeah I’ll put this one on the list also because ngl I liked writing male!brienne way more than I thought I would and overall I did have a pretty interesting time figuring out how to keep them IC while switching genders and it was in general a very good writing exercise for a lot of things and I think it came out pretty well.

and give all the love that you have in your soul (jb, jonc/omc, jonc/rhaegar, time travel): I thought about reccing something less widely read for the last spot but fuck it I’m going to put this one fic for a lot of reasons as in: a) I actually brewed on it for two years before writing it is2g it was a labor of love, b) I’m extremely proud of myself for having written time travel without losing my shit over the technicalities (I hate writing time travel) and the planning and the likes and I also think it didn’t have plot holes so score for me, c) this is where I admit that I 100% purposefully put jon connington as co-protagonist in here because I love him and I don’t think he gets enough fandom exposure and while I write him more than about anyone else I think until this fic I hadn’t managed to find a large audience for fic where he was a lead, so yes I totally did it because I knew a fic with a jb main pairing would mean more exposure and I was delighted to see that at the end of it people cared about his half of the storyline as much as they cared about the jb half of it. also I think brienne and jonc would be absolutely good potential friends if they met so I really was excited to explore that dynamic and yeah tldr this damned thing was a bitch to write but I loved doing it and I loved the feedback it had so that’s going to be this one.

there, that’s the fic. as far as the meta goes, a lot more quickly (of the meta I have on ao3 because I’m still on dash only) :

Brienne of Tarth and her importance as a literary character & Brienne and Jaime’s relationship: a textual analysis of their journey: I put together these two darned novels of analysis in a single piece that I gave to gwendoline christie at a con once because I felt like I should go there with something that would make clear how much brienne means to me as a character and then I threw in the jb stuff as well because I could. the first piece isn’t as in-depth but again as brienne is the only character I related to as much as I do for those reasons I really felt strongly about that meta subject. the second piece is basically me going through 90% of the relevant moments of jb history in the books and analyzing the shit out of it and not to brag but I like to think it was pretty good text analysis so here you go.

Why a Jaime/Brienne Endgame in the Books Makes More Sense Than One Might Think, Based on Previous Works of GRRM's: one of the things that irks me more about nihilistic/fatalistic readings of these two/of asoiaf is that most people who write them and dismiss jb as not important or not important enough to have overall plot relevance have not actually read grrm’s other books. since I happen to have read most of them and to have seen that he has patterns that are not nihilistic at all, I took the liberty to rant about it.

An Analysis of Jaime's Dream in ASOS: this was when I dissected jaime’s asos dream line by line and while I don’t think it’s particularly groundbreaking information it’s pretty much encompassing 90% of the arguments I use while theorizing about these two/jaime’s issues specifically and I think I worded it well enough, so here we go, that’s the third.

... wow, selling yourself is hard. thanks jbo for the tag!!

aaand as I should tag other people, idk who’s done it already buut I’m gonna tag also not-jb peeps and go for @lordhellebore, @trulilyy @randomingoftherandomness and @lodessa if they want to :)

[rockpapertheodore]

A Toast to Trouble

Bonnie of Braugh, the Goliath of Chapel Bay, is the personal bodyguard of Lady Remadia Seneca, the Countess of Chapel Bay. For a year, she has served faithfully and happily under Her Ladyship, having to do little more than be an ear for Lady Seneca’s machinations and withering observations of the nobility, and serve a towering wall of iron-clad muscle and stand there with her fuck-off heavy warhammer to intimidate anyone who starts getting too disagreeable towards the Countess.

Lady Seneca has seen fit to reward her loyal service with a night off. Unfortunately, she has also seen fit to commission the ethereal twin couturiers, Artemis and Apollo, to fit her for a very fancy dress, for a very fancy party. 

Bonnie was under the impression that she was supposed to rewarded for her loyal service, not damned straight to her own personal hell.

Tags for Content: Explicit, Low Fantasy, Original Work, Casual Sex, Bisexuality, Love and Affection, (a very brief scene of) M/F, (4.5k words worth of) F/F, D/s dynamics, Alcohol, consent is sexy, sober consent is even sexier, a rather unprofessional development in an otherwise professional relationship. WORD COUNT: 11,561 words

Quick note: I’m a queer cis man writing a wlw story, and I’ve tried to portray everything to the best of my ability. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and, please, i implore you, correct me if I’ve gotten anything wrong, particularly with the romance scene. Thanks <3

Quick note 2: Getting this to format properly for Tungles dot Bungles was hell, I apologize profusely if there’s anything hideously goofy with it

A Toast to Trouble

“Lady Seneca, may I speak frankly with you?” Bonnie of Braugh sputtered, standing stiffly in front of the mirror as the twin couturiers, Artemis and Apollo, went about their business cleaning up her appearance - perfecting the make-up on her face and making her suitable for the public.

Lady Remadia Seneca, Countess of Chapel Bay, lounged on the gilded divan near the door, idly swirling a glass of wine as she gleefully watched the twins struggle to do their work with the colossal woman, who dwarfed them considerably. “If I said no, would you hear it?” She asked, taking a sip of her wine that was the same deep red as Bonnie's dress.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why bother asking?”

“Because it bothers you, my lady,” Bonnie said, as she felt Apollo begin to tighten the girdle over the dress. Artemis was making her way around Bonnie, smoothing out the fabric under the girdle where it had started to bunch up.

“Speak away, Bonnie.”

“Why must I wear this horrible outfit?”

Lady Seneca rolled her eyes. “Bonnie, you do a terrible disservice to yourself. You look absolutely stunning. Does she not, Artemis? Apollo?”

“We agree with you, Lady Seneca,” Apollo said, standing on a stool so that he could work at the top strings of the girdle, tying them into place.

“We do, indeed. Bonnie. You look beautiful, love.” Artemis said as she reached up, gently poking Bonnie's nose. Bonnie's face scrunched up in response. Artemis winked up at her and went about her work.

“Please, you two, not this. Why can't I wear my armor? How am I supposed to do my job like this?”

“It is a party, darling, worry not! The only things you should concern yourself with are dancing and being merry.”

“And should there be trouble? You very well won't let me carry my hammer with me.” Bonnie looked to the twins, hoping they'd agree with her, at least on this. Instead, they were busy packing away their tools.

“Bonnie, my beautiful brute, how I do adore thee.” Lady Seneca rose from the divan, her dress flowing behind her, and opened the door.

“That's not an answer.”

“I'm already going out to the party! I can't hear you!”

“Lady Seneca!”

“See you amongst the rabble, love! Ta!”

“Remy!” Bonnie shouted, desperate, to no avail. “Damn it.” Crestfallen, she stared at the door, hoping that Lady Seneca would come back through and tell her it was all some hilarious joke. She sighed and sat down on the stool Apollo had been standing on, slouching as far as her dress would let her. “I really have to go out there, don't I?”

Artemis and Apollo nodded, moving to Bonnie's sides to encompass her in a compassionate hug. “Trust us, love. You'll do fine,” Apollo murmured into her ear. Artemis laid a gentle kiss on Bonnie's cheek. “You are lovely.”

Bonnie sighed dramatically, wrapping a powerful arm around the two of them and forcing them into her lap. “I don't give a shit about that! What I'm terrified of is having to interact with these high-society types as something other than their hired muscle! I don't know how to hold a conversation with these people beyond, 'yes, m'lord,' or 'no, your grace!” She pulled them in so she could rest her chin on both of their heads as they each hugged an arm. “Do any of them know anything about smithing? Perhaps some steel merchant or a jeweller? My hands are too big for such delicate work, but perhaps we'd have some shared appreciation for craftsmanship.”

“You'll never know until you go out there,” Artemis said, resting her cheek against Bonnie's bicep. Apollo muttered, “and you're never going to get out there until you get over yourself. Ow!” Bonnie had dug her chin into the top of his head. “I'm just saying, love, you're going to have to let us free at some point and go.”

“But what if I don't want to let you go? What if I want to smuggle you two in my bustier?”

“Bonnie.”

Bonnie whined and loosened her grip on the twins, allowing them to slip out from her arms. The twins turned, offering their hands to help her up. Though Bonnie didn't need it, she appreciated the gesture, taking their offered hands and offering a sarcastic curtsy to them in thanks. They rolled their eyes and began to push her towards the door. Bonnie laughed, shooing them away. “Leave me alone, you two, I've got this.”

-The Party-

I haven’t got this, Bonnie thought as she tried to navigate the social seas of high-society. Mumbled half-attempts to strike up conversation left her lips time and again, only to be ignored or met with shocked stares. I have no idea how to talk to these people. She could feel every glance being cast her way as she stood easily head and shoulders above those gathered for the Countess's party, too much attention being paid to her scars and her height. She felt her face beginning to flush in panic as she grabbed a carafe of water and found herself a seat on an isolated chaise lounge. On a nearby table sat an unattended glass of wine, which she commandeered, dumping its contents into a potted bush of some sort and refilling it with cool water. She downed the glass and poured herself another, putting the carafe down so she could nurse the glass in both her hands. Contemplating the ripples of the water, she lost herself in thought as she tried to wrap her head around everything going on.

“I'm proud of you, you know.”

Bonnie snapped to attention, the Countess's lips a hair's breadth from her ear. She could smell the wine on the Countess's breath.

“To be quite honest, I thought that I had pushed too far by insisting you attend as my guest, rather than as my bodyguard.”

“I am out of my league here, my lady.”

“Oh I do so love it when you call me that, dear Bonnie, but tonight you don't have to be so formal.” Lady Seneca finally leaned away from Bonnie, and Bonnie felt herself relax. “Come, let us go onto the balcony. The fresh air will do us wonders.”

Suddenly Lady Seneca’s hand was in Bonnie’s and she was being pulled up and away, being led through the crowd, and an invisible weight was lifted from Bonnie’s shoulders as they emerged from the loud claustrophobia of the party into the relative quiet of the night. The balcony they were on was blessedly unoccupied, the nearest group of party goers a stone’s throw away on a balcony of their own, allowing Bonnie to appreciate the view that spread out beneath her. The twinkling of street lamps and illuminated windows from the dark city below captivated Bonnie, her eyes tracing the curve of the city around the bay until it faded into dark silhouettes in the distance. Off on a great rock in the middle of the harbor, the Chapel Bay Lighthouse shone like a bright star against the rippling black water of the night.

“Was I right, dear Bonnie?”

“Very much so, my lady.” Bonnie said, but Lady Seneca coughed expectantly, frowning. “Lady Seneca?” Another cough. “Remadia?” Bonnie said hesitantly, and was met with an excited grin. Bonnie smiled back.

“Close enough, my dear Bonnie. You didn’t hesitate to call my name earlier, though, did you?”

Bonnie felt her face heat with embarrassment. “First of all, my, wait, Lady, no,” Bonnie felt her thoughts twisting up in her brain, “Remadia. First of all, I remained as courteous as I could. Then, uh,” Bonnie averted her gaze from Remadia’s smiling eyes, “I was panicking.”

“You’re not panicking anymore, are you?”

“Not currently, no. I definitely had been until you intervened. So, um, thank you.” Bonnie’s mouth felt dry and tight, remembering the glass of water in her hand, drank the full glass in a single mouthful. She saw Remadia smiling wide again out of the corner of her eye and wished she had another glass of water.

“I dare say, Bonnie; impressive. What are you drinking?”

“Water, m’lady- I mean, Remadia.”

Remadia gave her a playful punch on the arm. “Oh, please, Bonnie, how are you supposed to get into trouble if you’re only drinking water?”

“I don’t like to drink, and I really don’t want to, uh, get into trouble.”

“Nonsense! I had this absolutely wonderful port brought in this morning - though that scrawny weasel Lord McKinsey could barely handle the scent of it, let alone a full glass - I’m sure that it’ll do wonders for your disposition, and-” Remadia had begun to wander away from Bonnie as she rambled, only to be halted by Bonnie’s hand, large enough to almost fully envelop her bicep.

“Please, Lady Seneca.”

Remadia was taken aback by the unexpected desperation in Bonnie’s voice, and turned her head to contemplate the knuckles of Bonnie’s fingers, so very gently wrapped around her arm. She felt the protest she had been going to say melt away in her throat as her eyes followed up Bonnie’s arm to meet her pleading gaze. Her eyes looked golden in the light from the windows behind Remadia, dark eyelashes blending in against the dark eyeshadow the twins had given her. Remadia felt her heart soften and reached up to pull Bonnie’s hand from her arm. Bonnie opened her mouth to say something, but Remadia didn’t hear it as she wrapped her own arms around Bonnie, hugging her tightly, face buried fully in the warmth of Bonnie’s bosom.

Shocked, Bonnie hesitantly returned the hug with one arm, her other coming up to gingerly stroking Remadia’s hair. “Remadia, are you drunk?”

There was a mumbled response, but Remadia’s words were muffled by the fabric of Bonnie’s dress.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that.” Bonnie stopped petting Remadia’s hair to gently grip it and pressure Remadia into tilting her head back and out of Bonnie’s chest.

“Perhaps moreso than I thought, dear Bonnie, but not hideously.” Remadia’s eyes wandered across Bonnie’s face before they narrowed, darting around conspiratorially, before she said, “Come here, love, I have a secret I wish to share with you and being eye-level with the underside of your tits makes that difficult. Lean down to me.”

Bonnie was confused, and somewhat surprised by Remadia’s bruskness. “Remadia, we’re alone here, you can speak.”

“Yes, but secrets are no fun unless they’re whispered! Come down to my level.” Remadia had a mischievous grin on her face that she was struggling to conceal.

Bonnie rolled her eyes and acquiesced, leaning down to Remadia’s level, before her face was suddenly grasped between Remadia’s hands, and she felt soft lips against hers. In a moment of shock, Bonnie froze, mouth slack and eyes wide, and in that moment she felt fingers cradle her chin and grip the back of her head as Remadia’s tongue parted her lips. She could taste the wine Remadia had been drinking earlier, bittersweet and something she would normally find disagreeable.

In this moment, however, she wasn’t sure if she found it unpleasant.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Remadia’s eyes were unfocused as she pulled away, a light flush on her face, before meeting Bonnie’s stunned gaze, letting go of Bonnie’s face with one hand and patting her cheekily with the other. She winked at Bonnie. “I have a party to return to, dear Bonnie. Weren’t you glad you leaned down?” She wiped the sides of her mouth with her thumb, swiping away a smear of lipstick and spittle, before turning the same attention to Bonnie’s mouth with that same thumb. She patted Bonnie’s cheek again. “To trouble?”

With that, she was gone, and Bonnie was left dumbfounded as Remadia disappeared back into the party. Bonnie looked around, still not processing what had just happened. The other balcony either didn’t notice what happened, or had, and were gossiping quietly amongst themselves about it.

“Uh, yeah. To trouble,” Bonnie said to the open air, “I guess.”

-To Trouble?-

It took her the better part of thirty minutes to regain her senses and reenter the party, catching sight of and chasing down one of the men with serving trays of drinks, someone who in any other situation was her peer, and as she approached him, she noticed a change in how she was carrying herself. Her back was straighter, and she felt more confident, no longer shying away from the curious and judgmental gazes being cast her way. She still felt out of place, but no longer did she feel like a sheep amongst wolves. To trouble, she thought to herself as she grabbed two glasses of some sort of foreign juice, confirming with the serving man that it wasn’t wine. She turned around to perhaps find someone to talk to, only to discover that someone had come to her as she nearly walked in to him, managing to keep her glasses of juice steady.

“Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you,” The man said, offering a sweeping bow as Bonnie stepped back from him, eyeing him carefully. His dark, thick lashes lifted to reveal wondrous hazel eyes, which rose to meet her own. He quirked an eyebrow as a playful grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and Bonnie felt her heart flutter. He was beautiful.

“No, please, forgive me!” Bonnie managed to say, panicking. “I should have looked before I started walking.” She was at a loss for words, unsure of how to proceed. She could feel her new confidence fading rapidly. She faltered, stumbling for words. She noticed he didn’t have a drink, and held out one of hers. “Juice?”

The man took her awkwardness in stride, accepting the glass graciously. “Thank you, my lady.” He sniffed it, swirling the glass before taking a sip. “Not wine?”

“Oh, no, I don’t care much for drinking.”

“Do you care much for dancing?”

He asked it so idly, it took Bonnie a moment to pick up on what his question implied, and she felt her face grow hot as she blushed. She stammered, mouth searching for a response, as she watched the look on the man’s face grow concerned.

“Have I asked something wrong? Do I offend?”

“Oh, n-no! You don’t, I don’t, nobody’s ever, uh-” she stuttered, words stumbling out of her mouth, “I’m too big.” The area from her neck to her ears felt as if they were on fire, she was so flushed in embarrassment.

The man grinned wolfishly at her, worrying in its similarity to Remadia’s. “Am I to understand that nobody has ever asked you to dance?”

Bonnie finally managed to get her mouth under control, though it felt dry “I’ve never been taught, and I, uh,” she paused, taking a drink from her glass “most people find my, uh, size,” she paused again, “to be intimidating.” His grin softened, and she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. She finished drinking the rest of her juice.

“I don’t find your size to be intimidating.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly his hand was in hers, and the empty glass was divested from her fingers, and for the second time that night Bonnie was being led away. Before she knew it they were standing on the dancefloor surrounded by other dancing pairs. The music seemed too loud and her heart pounded in her throat. Her new companion, however, remained calm as he took her left hand and placed it on his right arm, placed his right hand just below her shoulder blade, took her right hand in his left, and with a shout of “move with me!” he raised their conjoined hands and confidently began to move them both to the rhythm of the music. Bonnie struggled to keep to the simple steps he was guiding her through, always being led by his assertive but gentle directions. After a minute of stiff shuffling, however, Bonnie began to relax into the dance. Eventually, she became less aware of the loud music, and was finally able to focus on the face of her companion, who was confident and relaxed, despite her clumsy, so-called dancing.

Those enchanting hazel eyes met hers, glittering jewels of amber and emerald set against deep, olive skin; dark, perfectly coiffed hair, shaved down on the sides; a handlebar moustache and the dark patch below framing a pair of impressively shapely lips, plump and dusky pink. Those soft-looking lips lifted into a smirk as her gaze lingered upon them.

“See something you like, my lady?” He said, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

Bonnie felt herself blush reflexively, but there was something in the quirk of his mouth and the words he said that reminded her again of Remadia, and the words, to trouble, floated to the forefront of her thoughts. She felt a rush of confidence and the words, “Maybe I do, little man,” spilled out of her mouth before she could think about what she was saying. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what she had just said - how she said it like a challenge - and she was terrified of his response.

It was like she had cast chum into shark-infested waters.

His hand tightened around hers firmly, and the hand on her shoulder blade dropped to her waist, pulling her in tightly to him. He began to move their dance between the other couples, twisting and turning, his eyes locked to hers and the intensity between them building as he led them away from the band and eventually off the dancefloor, just as the orchestra finished playing.

“Might the lady tell me what it is she likes?” He said, his gaze no less intense now that they were away from dancefloor. He was still holding her to him.

“How honest do you want me to be?” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrow. She hoped the question sounded confident. She felt reckless. Excited. She felt his hand slide down below her waist, coming to rest at the top of her rump.

“At least as honest as I am.”

Bonnie felt a throb of lust pulse through her. To trouble!

-To Trouble!-

The door hadn’t even fully shut behind them before he had pulled her down into a passionate kiss, and, unlike earlier, Bonnie didn’t just let the kiss happen to her in shock. She bent down, wrapping her hands under his ass, and lifted him, pinning him against the wall. Bonnie could feel his cock through his pants, throbbing against the underside of her breasts as she leaned into him and he wrapped his legs around her. “Just a little further down the hall now, pretty boy.” She said against his lips, her forehead pressed against his. He kissed her again as she pulled him away from the wall and began to carry him down the corridor, his mouth moving from her lips down her cheek and along her jawline. “I don’t even know your name,” she said, kissing the nape of his neck and fumbling with the doorknob to the receiving room she had been leading him to.

“Pretty boy will do.”

“I like it,” she said as she opened the door, following it inwards, thankful that there wasn’t anybody inside. “I like you, pretty boy.”

“Absolutely wonderful. Would you mind if I showed you my own form of appreciation?” Pretty boy asked as he unwrapped his legs from her, lowering himself down her body, laying kisses along the way. Then he reached her waist and one hand began to lift up the hem of her dress as the other cupped her large backside, fingers digging into the dense flesh there. He began to guide her backwards towards the wall, and, when he felt her back connect, disappeared under her dress. She gasped as she felt soft lips greeting her clit, her knees going weak as he sucked hard and his tongue moved against her.

“Oh, pretty boy, I like that,” she moaned hard as he answered her praise with his tongue, penetrating her, licking shallow and and then deep.

He stopped for a moment, and from beneath her dress she heard, “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Bonnie.” She whimpered as he sucked gently on her. He paused.

“The Goliath of Chapel Bay?”

“The very same,” she managed to trill out - a confident, no, a pleased thrill running up her core at the recognition - as he ate at her with renewed vigour. She tried to pull his head into her with her thighs, but she couldn’t regain control of her legs, barely managing to stay upright as she felt the hand on her ass dig aggressively into her flesh. His other hand ran along her skin, gently teasing at the sensitive skin between her pucker and her cunt before his fingers worked their way up, parting her and gently playing at her slick, sensitive and swollen opening.

He pulled away, breathing heavily. “I never thought I’d meet you like this. You’re so much bigger than I could have imagined.”

“You like them big, pretty boy?” she managed to gasp, before suddenly his fingers were inside her, and his mouth was working her clit and her breath was knocked from her as she came, shaking against his face. Her abdominal muscles tensed as the orgasm rocked through her and she lost control of her legs, her hips grinding forward as her hand clamped down against the back of his head to hold him in place. Guttural sounds managed to escape her throat as she choked on air, trying to regain some sense of composure and failing wonderfully. Trembling, she sank against the wall and down to the floor.

As she struggled to lower herself, he remained in this crouched position, and the weight of her body drew her dress off him, revealing his smiling face, moustache damp and unstyled with her juices.

“Like is a bit of an understatement, methinks. A man does not climb the highest peaks for mere like of the mountain.” He said it so earnestly Bonnie felt her heart leap in her chest. She tried to respond, but her mouth was dry and her eyes unfocused. She reached out to drag him in for a kiss, but he grabbed her hand, suddenly attentive to something outside the room. She couldn’t hear anything over her own heartbeat. He leaned in and kissed her, and when he pulled away, her face was sticky with her own come. “Forgive me, Bonnie. My companions call for me.” In a blink, he was standing up and moving towards the door.

“You’re leaving?” Bonnie whined pathetically as he walked away. He stopped before opening the door, and took a deep bow.

“I swear to you, Bonnie, Goliath of Chapel Bay, our paths will cross again.” And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a click!

“Damn it,” Bonnie said, as she began to pull herself together. She stood up, still shaky, and began to pat down her dress, making sure she hadn’t soaked through her clothes. “Oh I bet I reek.” She muttered to herself. Her head was muddled with afterglow, but she felt confident that she at least looked presentable.

Now to do something about the smell, she thought as she left the room, making a stumbling detour away from the party and towards the twins’ quarters.

-Back to the Party-

Bonnie took longer than she had expected to return to the party, and not in the way that she had wanted. She was still horny and had been hoping the twins were amenable to resolving that particular issue, but they weren’t in their quarters, so Bonnie found their perfumes and spritzed herself with one that smelled strongly of roses before she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The careful makeup that the twins had given her was smeared horribly, the color applied to her lips spread about her mouth, so she found a kerchief and set about cleaning up her face as carefully as possible, trying to preserve what she could.

By the time she made it back to the main hall, the party was drawing to a close and Remadia’s guests were filing out the doors. Bonnie scanned the crowd, expecting to see the Countess somewhere bidding her guests farewell, but she was nowhere to be found amidst the rabble. She looked elsewhere throughout the main hall, and almost walked past the door to the balcony that they had gone out onto earlier, when she stopped, turning to peer through the glass. Remadia sat on a bench that hadn’t been there earlier, arms at her sides and feet idly kicking as she looked out over the balcony ledge.

Bonnie pushed through the doors, not acknowledged by Remadia until Bonnie was sitting next to her. “Bit lonely out here, isn’t it?”

Remadia waved off the comment, unfazed by Bonnie’s sudden appearance. “Pshaw, my dear Bonnie. It’s a lovely night in my city, and I knew you’d find me eventually,” she said as if it were a matter of fact, her voice thick and worn from the night. She yawned, stretching herself out before commandeering Bonnie’s arm, pulling it around her like a blanket as she leaned into Bonnie and rested her head fully against Bonnie’s breast. “You stink hideously of roses, my dear, and I know that’s not the perfume I gave you earlier,” she remarked,  before cuddling deeper against Bonnie, nuzzling her face against Bonnie’s breast as much as she could from the side.

Bonnie had felt a flush creeping across her face from the moment Remadia had started touching her, but she blushed fully in response to her statement. “I, well,” Bonnie gulped as Remadia looked up from her tit, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. “I took your toast to trouble to heart, and found myself a little trouble.”

Remadia raised both of her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh really? How utterly droll, my dear.” Remadia purred, only moving her mouth from its position against Bonnie so that she could speak with relative clarity. “Was it a scuffle? A row? Or was it romantic trouble? Did you dance?”

Bonnie smiled down softly at Remadia. “We danced, yes.” Then she smirked, looking out towards the lighthouse in the bay. “Then he ate me out in the receiving room off the back corridor.”

Remadia purred with delight, wrapping her arm around Bonnie’s waist and hugging her tightly. “Nothing further?”

“Left me quivering on the floor. The beautiful bastard scarpered before I could beg him to fuck me.”

“Beg? I think the word you use is too strong, my dear.” She pulled her arm off of Bonnie’s waist and used it to secure Bonnie’s arm more tightly against her. “You were far too much woman for him to handle. I, on the other hand, could show you what begging for a good fuck is really like,” she said, as casually as one would contemplate the weather, “though I would never dream to be so rude as to just abandon you on the floor.”

Bonnie choked, sputtering as her heart ground to a halt in her chest, her entire body tensing. She could feel lustful warmth resurging back into her loins, but her brain was frozen in panic. When Remadia spoke, her words were too loud, startling Bonnie.

“You know what I absolutely adore about you, dear Bonnie? How honest you are. Sometimes you talk yourself in circles, but your face and your body always tell the truth.”

Bonnie remained still, unable to move. Remadia let go of her grip on Bonnie’s arm and moved her hands instead to and around Bonnie’s waist, turning her body in to Bonnie’s. She hoisted one leg dramatically in the air, twisting herself further so that she could straddle Bonnie’s lap with it, supporting herself almost entirely against Bonnie’s sturdy frame. Then, once that was settled and her leg was locked firmly around Bonnie, heel digging into the cleft of Bonnie’s butt, she used it as leverage to awkwardly lift her other leg so that it could be wrapped around Bonnie’s waist as well. Her face never left Bonnie’s chest, and Remadia had situated herself in such a way - arms slung under Bonnie’s bust and around her waist, with her hips cocked upward against Bonnie’s stomach - as to allow her face to now be fully buried in the fabric of Bonnie’s bosom. Bonnie hadn’t budged an inch throughout the endeavor, and Remadia began to moan, her head lolling from side to side.

“Remadia, are you okay?” Bonnie asked, concerned.

Remadia rolled her head against the top of one breast, so that she was peering up at her through a heavily squinting eye. “I’m drunk and the world has begun to spin, and all I want,” she was interrupted by a yawn, “is to use these big, lovely tits of yours as my pillows so that I may regain my composure and fuck you silly.” She returned her face to the crevice she had burrowed into the fabric of Bonnie’s bosom, lifting her arms to squeeze Bonnie’s breasts around her ears.

Bonnie felt her face heat up for what felt like the hundredth time that night, but felt the need to take control of the situation. “Let’s get you to bed, then.” Bonnie could hear Remadia’s muffled response of “yes, let me bed you,” and sighed.

Bonnie had had enough.

“All right, you foul fuckin’ mess, let’s go.” Bonnie wrapped her arms underneath Remadia’s rump, lifting her so that Bonnie could stand up. Remadia squealed, briefly lifting her face from Bonnie’s cleavage to speak, eyes and smile excited as she kicked her feet gleefully against Bonnie’s butt.

“I feel like a child in your arms, this is wonderful!” and then her face was buried away again. Bonnie could barely make out her continuation of, “Why haven’t I had you do this before?” as she walked back to the door.

“Because, you embarrassment of a woman, I’ve been your personal bodyguard, and we have had an otherwise professional relationship.”

“But I don’t want that now. I was a fool!”

“Was? Are.”

“Bonnie,” she whined, drawing it out as long and as pathetically as she could and flailing her heels ineffectually at Bonnie’s hips.

Ignoring her, Bonnie made her way through the hall, paying no attention to the curious looks of the people cleaning up and making her way towards the corridor that would lead to Remadia’s quarters.

As she walked through the corridor doors, Remadia squeezed Bonnie, both hands slapping her back in urgency. “Wait!” she cried out from Bonnie’s chest, with a tone of panic so intense that it stopped Bonnie in her tracks.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

Remadia loosened up. “Privy. Hurry.”

“You wretch.” Bonnie picked up the pace. “Are you going to hurl all over me or do you have to piss?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Bonnie hurried to the privy as quickly as possible, being careful not to jostle Remadia more than necessary. She threw open the door and - gently - deposited Remadia on the burnished wood of the privy, quickly turning around and leaving her to do her business, despite Remadia’s mournful whine of, “Don’t abandon me.”

-She Doesn’t Abandon Her-

“You do know that if you don’t cuddle with me, I’m going to follow you to your room.” Remadia sat, now naked, on her bed, patting the space next to her. Somewhere between the privy and her quarters she had managed to regain a modicum of composure, though she had a tendency to overbalance from one side to the other as she attempted to maintain her posture.

Bonnie, still fully dressed, groaned, frustrated and refusing to look at her. “You petulant brat.”

“I told you my plan on the balcony, Bonnie. You have yet to tell me no.”

“We’re not,” Bonnie spluttered, “I am- you,” too many words tried to make their way out of her mouth at once. “You’re drunk.”

“Is that your only complaint?”

“Well-” Bonnie hesitated.

“Speak frankly, if you’re looking for permission.”

“I wasn’t, but-”

“Then we can cuddle ever-so-chastely tonight, and tomorrow I can fuck you in the way your beautiful companion was too cowardly to.”

“Remadia, I keep saying this: I am your bodyguard,” Bonnie shouted. She could see Remadia out of the corner of her eye. Remadia clapped her hands over her mouth, and Bonnie turned, finally looking to meet her eyes. She hoped that Remadia finally understood the predicament Bonnie was in.

Bonnie was taken aback by the fawning adoration in her eyes, like how a child looks at a newborn puppy.

“Oh Bonnie, is that truly it? Truly?” she clapped excitedly, like a child receiving a gift. “Oh how I adore you! It’s no wonder the twins are so infatuated with you, you’re so earnest.”

“I- what? You know?”

Remadia callously waved away Bonnie’s shock. “Oh, of course I know, dear, the twins tell me absolutely everything, and it is the absolute sweetest thing. They’ve never been so enamoured with a person before, let alone the same person. Their infatuation with you is so thorough as to be infectious!”

Bonnie was at a loss for words, her mouth stuttering out, “propriety!”

Remadia gave Bonnie a withering glare. “Bonnie, propriety has its place, and that is with those who make it their life. If I were a woman concerned with propriety, I would have married some petulant merchant skunk and left my own desires to fall to the wayside instead of becoming one of the most powerful women in the country.” Remadia stood up, suddenly full of fire, marching up to Bonnie. “If I were a woman concerned only with propriety, I might have married the Duke of Braugh instead of throwing his letters into the cesspit where they belonged, and he may never have tried to wage his foolish war on me, and he might have been sitting here, in my manor, this very night, instead of cowering in his shit-caked castle in the muddy lowlands with half his land given to me in surrender. And you,” her finger delivering a vicious tap to Bonnie’s sternum, “would never have become the oh-so infamous Goliath of Braugh, and I would have never shown up in your village after hearing of your exploits, and I would never have asked you to serve as my bodyguard, and claimed you as my Goliath, the Goliath of Chapel Bay. My Bonnie. Do not speak to me of propriety!” Her voice had become unexpectedly shrill.

Bonnie, overcome with emotions too conflicted and struggling against each other that she couldn’t put words to how she felt, wrapped her arms around Remadia tightly in a hug. She understood Remadia’s passion, but Remadia couldn’t understand what she’d lost, especially as she was now, and she didn’t want to spoil it with any of the grim thoughts that came to mind. Remadia’s fists were balled, arms tight to her sides, before reluctantly wrapping themselves around Bonnie and returning the hug. Bonnie rested her chin on Remadia’s head.

“Perhaps I’ve been going the wrong way about it, because it’s never something that I’ve consciously given thought to.”

“What’s that?”

“My overtures towards you, maybe I’ve been too unthinking with them, drink and lust clouding my mind, instead of me trying to be as honest as you are with me.”

“How do you mean, Remadia?”

Bonnie could feel Remadia swallow against her before she spoke, her voice soft and croaking, worn from the night and the sudden rush of emotions. “What I’ve been trying to say with so many words is, Bonnie, that I’m very lonely, and I’m very tired, and the year you’ve been here has frankly been the most wonderful - no, memorable part of my life. I went to war against so-called propriety, my Bonnie, and I got you in return: something, someone, so much more valuable than any land or titles given to me by that reprehensible waste of human existence.  I want you to spend this night with me because I want to feel comfortable in someone else’s presence, truly comfortable with someone for the first time in my entire life”

Bonnie’s hummed reassuredly, tightening her arms around Remadia as she rubbed her cheek against the top of her head. She pressed her lips and began to rock softly from side to side. Moments passed and she felt a single, silent sob rack Remadia’s body. She slowly loosened her grip, rubbing her fingers gently into Remadia’s back as she allowed herself be pulled away. Remadia attempted to maintain her facade of composure in vain as her arms fell limply to her sides, her reddened eyes locked to Bonnie’s chin to avoid looking at the soft smile on her lips. Bonnie’s hands still rested on Remadia’s shoulders as they stood there in a comfortable silence. Bonnie sighed and leaned down so Remadia was forced to look her in the eyes, giving a cheeky grin as Remadia gave a single, defiant sniffle.

“Okay, you needy bitch, get this girdle off me. I’ll hold your wee, simpering form in my big strong arms and whisper sweet-nothings in your ear.”

Remadia’s facade broke, a wide grin splitting her face as she slapped Bonnie’s arm. “Oh, why thank you, my big, strong knight.” She giggled gently, her hands wiping the sudden tears of relief that had welled in her eyes. “Whatever would I do without you?”

Their laughter continued, growing, as Remadia moved behind Bonnie and began to untie the lacing of her girdle. Bonnie relaxed as the pressure of the restrictive garment was relieved, her skin prickling where the girdle had been. The lacings holding up the dress came off next, and Bonnie felt freed as she let the dress fall from her shoulders to her waist, and she heard a soft gasp from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Remadia’s eye, smiled cheekily, then brought her arms above her head and flexed, causing the muscles of her back to bulge.

Bonnie had never seen Remadia blush before.

Bonnie pulled the dress off her waist and down her body, slowly, deliberately; milking the attention she was being given for all it was worth as she showed off her powerful build for Remadia. She pulled the dress tight so that it bit into her thick, muscular ass, slowly dragging it down so more and more flesh muffined out over the top of the fabric before it all popped out, flexing each cheek and dancing her hips from side to side as she pulled the dress down her corded thighs; her thick calves. She turned to face Remadia with a confident grin, hoping that she had enjoyed the show.

Remadia looked like a cat who had just discovered a bowl of rich cream.

“Shall we retire?” Bonnie gestured towards the bed, raising an eyebrow as suavely as she could muster.

“Oh,” Remadia purred, “my dear, I have been waiting for you to ask me that all night.”

Remadia didn’t move, however, and Bonnie was confused. Guessing that Remadia was waiting for her to go first, Bonnie crawled onto the bed, and was rewarded with an appreciative hum from Remadia. As she had with the dress, she crawled across the bed deliberately, stretching out her legs and arms and moving so that her muscles rippled and bulged with the shifting of her weight, prowling across the mattress. She reached the pillows, finishing her show for Remadia with a wink, and gracelessly flopped onto the bed.

“All right, my lady. Time for bed.” Bonnie turned to find Remadia staring at her, eyes barely focused and doing nothing to hide the lustful delight on her face as she bit excitedly at her lower lip.

Bonnie’s words snapped Remadia out of her thoughts. “Oh, right. Bed.” Remadia crawled hastily onto the bed, before she stopped. “I forgot the candles,” she muttered, turning around and busying herself snuffing out the lights around the room. Bonnie had seen Remadia in various states of undress, but had never really appreciated Remadia’s body until now.

She paid particular attention to how Remadia’s pear-shaped backside, broad and dimpled, jiggled with every step she took, rocking from side to side with the movement of her hips. Bonnie watched as the orange light of the candles played against Remadia’s pale skin, following the curve of her body up her arm to her delicate fingers holding the snuffer.

The last candle went out, and Remadia made her way back onto the bed, where Bonnie was waiting for her eagerly on her side, waiting to play the big spoon. She felt the shifting of the mattress as Remadia moved, but instead of crawling inside Bonnie’s embrace she pushed Bonnie over onto her back, and sprawled herself on top of Bonnie, her face resting on the soft skin of Bonnie’s sternum.

“Is this uncomfortable for you, dear Bonnie?” Remadia whispered, laying a small kiss against the inside of Bonnie’s breast. “Gods, you are so warm.”

“It’ll do, seeing as I doubt I have a say in the matter.”

“Good girl,” she said, shifting her head and kissing the inside of Bonnie’s other breast.

Bonnie had to restrain a giggle as she felt Remadia’s arms come up along her sides and around each breast, hugging them together to smother her head. “You like those, don’t you.” Remadia squeezed her arms tight several times in succession, jiggling Bonnie’s breasts so they slapped against her head, before letting them fall to the side.

“They’re quite nice, yes,” she mumbled. Bonnie brought an arm up to gently stroke Remadia’s head. “That’s quite nice, too.”

“Mm,” Bonnie hummed, taking long, slow breaths, her hand stroking Remadia’s hair and down her back, rubbing small circles with strong fingers. Remadia let out pleased hums when Bonnie rubbed in the right places. She felt Remadia beginning to relax, her head rising and falling on Bonnie’s broad chest. Soon Remadia’s body was slack with sleep.

Bonnie stared into the darkness, mind still whirling from the night’s events.

To trouble, she thought, as sleep began to take her.

-To Trouble! This Time, with Feeling-

Bonnie awoke to the sounds of drawers being shuffled through.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on her side, and partially under the covers. Beyond the bed, she could see Remadia busying herself with something in front of the mirror, clad only in a garterbelt and stockings, eliciting a small, “oh!” of appreciation from Bonnie. She watched Remadia’s shapely behind as she bent over to pull something out of a basket next to her. Remadia, hearing Bonnie, snapped upright, excited.

“Bonnie, you’re awake. Are you ready, my dear?” she asked, slapping something against her palm. It took Bonnie a moment, and sitting upright, to recognize that Remadia was holding a riding crop. “I have already cleared my morning plans, so we have some time to ourselves.”

“O-oh,” Bonnie stuttered, feeling a thoroughly surprising, but not unwelcome, thrum of lust roll through her body. Her eyes wandered from the riding crop to her narrow shoulders, across creamy skin to the pale areolae of her gently-sloped breasts, and down Remadia’s stomach, soft handles hugged tightly by the black lace of the garter belt, stretched over broad hips. The straps that held Remadia’s stockings up framed her coppery bush. “I wasn’t, uh, expecting this to happen so quickly.”

“I remember being quite forthright with my intentions, dear.” Remadia looked at the riding crop in her hands. “Is it the crop? Is that too much?”

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so. You’re just, um,” Bonnie struggled to find the words to the feelings of arousal and intimidation she was experiencing. She felt like the emotions should be at odds with one another, but instead they fed into one another as she stared at Remadia in her scant lingerie. “You’re more, well, dressed up for this than I guess I’d expected?”

The clear ring of Remadia’s affectionate laughter reddened Bonnie’s ears in embarassment. “Oh, Bonnie. Dear Bonnie. I adore every innocent fiber of your pure and earnest soul.”

She spoke with such fondness Bonnie couldn’t bear to look at her. She felt like a child being condescended as she contemplated the edges of the woven rug behind Remadia’s feet. “I don’t see what’s so innocent about fucking,” she muttered, her mouth pursing into a pout.

“Oh, my love, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, please!” She took a few soft steps towards the bed. “I just enjoy the presentation of it all. The showmanship sets the scene, my dear. Forgive me, my love, and come sit closer for a moment?”

Bonnie sighed apologetically as she released the petulant anger she’d been holding, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded in assent and scooched herself along the bed so that she was sitting on the edge closest to Remadia. She couldn’t bring herself to actually look at her, because now she was embarrassed over how she reacted. She wanted to do this, she just was not used to this level of ceremony in the bedroom. Bonnie was used to more carnal, base affairs; or, preferably, gentle, loving intimacy. Never something so directed.

Remadia strolled towards Bonnie with hard, deliberate steps, swinging her hips with every movement, and snapped the riding crop up under Bonnie’s chin. With gentle pressure, Bonnie let her chin be lifted ever-so slightly and turned so that her eyes were level with Remadia’s. “Am I forgiven, my Bonnie?”

The look she was being given sent a trail of liquid fire through her, melting her insides, pooling in her loins. Her mouth was dry, but she managed to voice a soft, “yes, of course.”

“Then, tell me, love, is this all right?”

Bonnie nodded, slack-jawed.

Remadia leaned forward, lips barely touching the shell of Bonnie’s ear. “Tell me, my dear, what it is that you don’t want me to do,” she whispered.

Bonnie struggled to collect her thoughts, her mind forgetting its previous embarrassment and now racing with lust. Her hands were balled in her lap, and with Remadia’s shoulder just in front of her face, she was having a hard time resisting the urge to kiss the base of Remadia’s neck. “I, uh, can’t seem to think of anything that I’d say no to at the moment.”

Remadia laid a kiss in front of her ear. “Then I’ll be very gentle with you, my dear,” she murmured against Bonnie’s skin, laying a soft trail with her lips towards Bonnie’s mouth before capturing it in a passionate kiss. When she pulled away, Bonnie’s skin was flushed and Bonnie was left with a lazy grin. “I know what I like, but I don’t know what you like, beyond what the twins have told me. Do you like tender?”

Bonnie could feel the tip of the riding crop sliding down her neck. She swallowed dryly. “I do. Definitely.” The wide leather piece tickled at her throat before sliding between her breasts, causing her skin to prickle with gooseflesh and her pectoral muscles to spasm. The piece trailed across the heavy curve of one breast, and lingered at the sensitive ring of her areola before giving a sudden, stinging flick across her perked nipple. Bonnie gasped.

“How about that, my dear?” Remadia said as she kissed Bonnie’s lower lip, taking it between her lips and gently sucking on it. Bonnie moaned as the crop continued to gently play with her nipple. Remadia pulled away, pulling Bonnie’s lip as far as it could go before it slipped from between her lips with a wet pop!

“I,” Bonnie stumbled, “wow.”

“Talk to me, my dear, tell me what you’re thinking.” As Remadia spoke, the riding crop had resumed its trail south, tickling at Bonnie’s stomach, and Remadia licked her lips as she watched Bonnie’s powerful gut muscles twitch and dance under the crop. Then, Bonnie’s muscles still tense, the crop teased down lower, slipping behind where Bonnie’s balled fists had remained in her lap, not knowing where to go.

Bonnie could feel the crop playing at her bush, and then with a gentle push from Remadia, she felt the broad, flat leather of the bit rub slickly down her mound, the rod of the crop cool and hard against her clit. She hissed between clenched teeth, shuddering as she unclenched her hands to grip her thighs. “Sheesh,” she paused to take a breath, “wow, you really, uh-” Bonnie was at a loss for words.

“I what, darling?”

“You put much more showmanship into this than the twins do,” Bonnie said. “Artemis and Apollo are much more about throwing themselves at me and figuring it out from there.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, dear. Those two are very,” she took a moment, toying with the crop against Bonnie’s crotch, making Bonnie shudder against it, before finishing her statement, “impatient.” Remadia gripped Bonnie’s chin firmly before kissing her again. “Now, my dear, I need you to turn over onto your knees and present your lovely fat ass to me.” She withdrew the now-slick crop from the crevice of Bonnie’s thighs.

“Yes, my lady,” Bonnie said as she began to turn, moving around so she was on all fours.

“I’m so glad you’re getting into this, my dear Bonnie, but I must ask, how do you feel about being lashed with my crop?” Bonnie could hear the crack of the crop against Remadia’s hand.

“What? Why?” Bonnie looked behind her to find Remadia with a look of disappointment on her face.

“I ask because, although I adore your sense of propriety, I thought I was quite clear last night with how I want you to address me when we’re not bound by formalities,” she said, before she began to play at Bonnie’s exposed sex with the crop.

Bonnie understood that it was intended as some sort of punishment. “Oh.” She let out a moan as the leather danced between her sensitive folds, “I guess give it a try and I will, uh, let you know, Remadia.”

Crack! Bonnie gasped as her body rocked forward involuntarily away from the blow, happening so much more quickly than she had been expecting. Tingling waves of pain and pleasure blossomed from where the rod had connected at the bottom of her raised rump. “Are you alright, dear?” She heard from behind her. She was still reeling from the blow. It stung, and the lingering pain was beginning to overtake any pleasure she might have felt from it. It stung in a way that hurt differently from any blow she’d ever weathered. It was humiliating.

“Can we, um, maybe not with the rod?” she said, sheepishly. She tried to control the hurt in her voice, and she didn’t know why there was suddenly tears in her eyes. Immediately, the riding crop was gone, and there was movement on the bed as Remadia climbed onto it and around to Bonnie’s side, pressing her full body against her in a hug as she shushed and apologized to Bonnie. She leaned down to Bonnie’s face, gently kissing her.

“I’m so sorry, my dear, it’s all right. It’s all right.” Soft, gentle kisses from Remadia between each word. “We are here for pleasure, our pleasure.” More soft kisses as Remadia stroked her hair and hugged Bonnie’s head to her. Remadia tipped Bonnie’s head back, and peppered her mouth with apologetic pecks, her lips moving to kiss the small tears of shame that had beaded on Bonnie’s eyelashes. She mouthed her way down Bonnie’s cheek until she found her lips again, moving against them and feeding into more passionate, longer, slow kisses as their mouths opened against each other, her tongue playing softly with Bonnie’s.

The stinging of the welt on her backside faded quickly from Bonnie’s mind as she lost herself in the kiss, one hand moving to cup the back of Remadia’s head, the other coming up along her side to cup Remadia’s hip, large fingers digging into the ample flesh of her backside. Bonnie massaged Remadia’s butt, earning a series of small moans from Remadia as she leaned into the kiss.

After a moment, Remadia broke the kiss, panting. “Do you mind, my dear, if I spank at your ass with only my hands? Not as punishment, but because I wish to play with it.”

“That’s,” Bonnie paused, considering it. “That’s fine. I don’t know why I started crying like that, I’m sorry.”

Remadia put a finger against Bonnie’s lips. “Shush, now, dear, you need not apologize. Sometimes you do not enjoy a thing because it comes with emotional baggage, and sometimes you do not enjoy a thing simply because you do not find the thing enjoyable.” She laid a gentle kiss to Bonnie’s forehead. “You do not need to explain yourself, either, just tell me when I’ve crossed the line.”

Bonnie was grateful for that. She didn’t know how to explain the pain to Remadia, because she herself wasn’t sure why it had affected her so much.

“Now, if you would lie down so that I might play with your butt, my dear.”

“Oh, right.” Bonnie said, stretching herself out and propping her head up on her arms.

Remadia moved herself so that she knelt at Bonnie’s hip. “You have such a lovely, powerful ass, my dear,” she purred, taking a cheek under each hand and squeezing hard before massaging them firmly. “I wish you could see it the way I do, Bonnie. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Her heart swelling in her chest, Bonnie moaned as Remadia dug into her flesh, working it with gentle force, pushing and pulling, kneading her meaty ass with practiced care. Bonnie felt like so much dough beneath Remadia’s skilled fingertips. She imagined Remadia could feel the intense heat radiating from between her thighs, and as she relaxed even further into Remadia’s ministrations, she imagined those fingers sliding between her cheeks to explore the slippery heat building there.

“My dear, I’m going to smack your ass now so that I can watch it ripple and redden. Is that okay?”

Bonnie nodded, brought back from her fantasies, and hummed her assent as she braced herself.

Smack! Bonnie felt her butt move under the blow, but it didn’t sting like the riding crop had; Remadia’s hand was much softer and lacked the whip of the crop’s flexible rod. Without the weight of punishment, her mind didn’t lock itself up lingering on the blow. She could feel Remadia hesitate beside her, waiting for something.

“Are you alright, love? May I strike again?”

Bonnie hummed her assent again, more confident than before, anticipating and even looking forward to the spank as Remadia’s hand smacked down. Remadia hesitated again, and Bonnie just nodded, arching her back and lifting her butt to meet the next blow. This is almost fun, Bonnie thought, as another spank rang out, this time on the inside of her cheek. Then another, and another, and then another. Each smack began to sting more and more, until after one blow Bonnie shifted her hips to avoid it. Immediately, Remadia began to massage her reddening, swollen skin, and Bonnie moaned. Her moans grew louder as Remadia poured some sort of oil on her sore skin, her busy fingers continuing their ministrations as Remadia whispered loving sweet-nothings to her.

“You are so beautiful, Bonnie; you’re so big and so beautiful,” Remadia murmured. Her praise comforted Bonnie, warmth flooding her chest. “I adore you so much, and you’re doing so well.” Remadia laid a kiss on Bonnie’s butt, and then another, her fingers sliding from the cheeks of Bonnie’s ass and down in between them, pushing and rubbing and kneading. “Thank you,” she murmured against Bonnie’s skin. Then her fingers, well-oiled, slid between Bonnie’s thighs, and toyed with the damp hair they found there, fingertips lightly tickling Bonnie’s folds.

Bonnie had a moment to realize what Remadia was doing before Remadia slipped her fingers inside her, forcing Bonnie to cry out, “Remy!” as pleasure flowed through her body.

“Yes, my dear, finally!” Remadia purred, working her fingers inside Bonnie.

Bonnie gasped and struggled to regain her senses as every thrust of Remadia’s fingers made her squeak and moan. “Please, Remy. Please,” she whimpered. Begged. “Please fuck me.” Then she was empty and Remadia was pulling on her hips and she mindlessly raised herself back onto her knees, obeying her silent commands, and she could feel Remadia moving around behind her. She moaned at the loss of Remadia’s fingers inside her, only to cry out as they were replaced by Remadia’s eager tongue, dancing across her folds with practiced care before diving inside her with long, passionate strokes. Bonnie began to lose focus, her world becoming Remadia lovingly devouring her cunt, her mouth hanging open mindlessly as Remadia began to work Bonnie’s clitoris with her fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut as every muscle in her abdomen twitched in sporadic spasms, before everything tightened at once as she came screaming against Remadia’s face. Remadia didn’t pull away from Bonnie’s orgasm, prolonging it with her expert tongue and gentle fingers. It pulsed through her in waves, and every time Bonnie thought she was done, another pulse would roll through her core, guided by Remadia. A sob escaped her mouth and her arms gave out as yet another wave of soul-shattering pleasure coursed through her, tears welling in her eyes; her mind going blank as Remadia pushed her over the edge and so much further beyond, eyes rolling back into her head as she lost herself, only knowing overwhelming pleasure.

When she was allowed to finally rest, she sobbed in relief as her brain began to reassemble thoughts, piecemeal, and she was able to make sense of her surroundings again. Her upper body was being cradled in Remadia’s lap and sweet words were being whispered into her ear. She could feel Remadia’s fingers tracing gentle circles across the soft muscle above her breast; a mindless, soothing motion.

“You did such a wonderful job, my dear. Thank you.” Gentle kisses were placed along the side of her face. Bonnie leaned into them, turning her head so her lips met Remadia’s, and let their tongues twist together in a languid dance. Remadia pulled back. “You’re so good. You’re wonderful.”

Bonnie grinned, her eyes struggling to focus on Remadia’s, her breathing still shaky. “So, Remy.” Remadia beamed at her, and Bonnie could see a tear well in Remadia’s eye. “How can I return the favor?”

Remadia wiped the tear away with her knuckle. “Oh, well, I can think of some ways, but I think the quickest would be for me to mount your face.”

Bonnie’s brow furrowed in confusion, not expecting such a blunt answer after being given such a thorough fucking. She couldn’t stop herself from pouting. “It doesn’t have to be the quickest, you know.”

“Oh, but dear,” Remadia laughed, “your enthusiasm is wonderful. I do, however, have to return to my duties as the Countess of Chapel Bay at some point today.”

“Oh,” Bonnie huffed, “I guess we can do that. But why ride my face? Why not let me use these big meaty mitts on you?” She cocked an eyebrow, wiggling the fingers of one hand. “I’ve got more in two fingers than most men do in a whole cock.”

Remadia’s laugh was hearty and pure. “My dear, I do so love your way with words.” She caressed Bonnie’s cheek, still smiling. “You might be able to devastate me with those so-called meaty mitts of yours, but me riding your face offers me much more,” she leaned in to whisper in Bonnie’s ear, “control.”

The word sent tingles of warmth fluttering through her loins again. “You do like control, don’t you, Remy?”

“I do so like control.” Remadia began shifting herself out from underneath Bonnie’s shoulders. “Now, on your back and face up, love. Time is of the essence.”

Bonnie complied, rolling over, face up and expectant. Remadia was on her knees above her, and Bonnie was staring up at Remadia’s coppery bush and big, soft thighs that led to the curves of Remadia’s fat ass.

Remadia balanced herself with one hand against Bonnie’s heavy breast, her rough grip making Bonnie gasp, as she spread the lips of her cunt above Bonnie’s eager face. “Bonnie, tongue out and working efficiently. One hand dug firmly into my ass, the other toying with my tit. Your nose might be sore, but I won’t break it, I’m sure.” She looked down between her legs at Bonnie, waiting.

Bonnie felt her heart race as she moved her hands into their prescribed positions. Remadia’s nipple hardened against her palm, the breast weighty and soft against her rough skin. I wonder, Bonnie thought as she gazed at Remadia’s other breast as it hung, heavy and free, pinching the tissue around the areola with her thumb and forefinger and stretching out her pinky and ring finger towards the other areola, capturing it between the first knuckles of her fingers. Nice, she thought, bringing the two breasts together.

Remadia slapped her hand. “I love your proactive attitude, but you can play later.”

Bonnie readjusted her hand so that she firmly gripped only the one breast.

“Ready?”

Bonnie stuck her tongue out so that it laid broad and flat against her chin, upper lip curled over her teeth. “Ready,” she struggled to say with her tongue out.

“Let us begin.”

Bonnie was not as ready as she had thought when her entire world became the soft, hot, damp dark of Remadia’s thighs. Remadia rode hard, driving the wet mouth of her opening against Bonnie’s tongue. Bonnie recovered by arching her tongue into it, firming it so that it drove itself inside Remadia as she ground against Bonnie’s face, and Remadia froze, hands gripping Bonnie’s breasts too hard as she took a second to readjust before bouncing against Bonnie’s stiffened tongue. Suddenly the world was bright as Remadia adjusted herself again, turning herself around so that Bonnie was looking up the front of Remadia’s body. They locked eyes.

“Tongue hard. Suck clit. Hand: thigh. Support me,” Remadia commanded, her gaze unfocused and her mouth open, breath quickened.

Bonnie didn’t bother attempting to reply - and wasn’t give time to - as Remadia picked up right where she had left off. Bonnie complied as best she could as Remadia fucked herself on Bonnie’s tongue. Remadia managed between thrusts to cross her feet beneath Bonnie’s head, and Bonnie lost the ability to breathe as her mouth and nose were sealed against Remadia’s loins. Bonnie, being proactive again, loosened her tongue and began to let it play inside and and against Remadia, licking eagerly at Remadia’s wet hole.

“Gods, Bonnie,” Remadia cried out, “your tongue - fuck!” she bit her lip as she continued to grind against Bonnie’s face. “I don’t think I’ll need your fingers, Bonnie.” She choked for a moment as Bonnie’s tongue dove deep and hard. “Fuck, Bonnie, why’s your tongue so big?” Remadia’s face was red, eyes crossed, and loud, erratic gasps escaping her slack mouth.

Bonnie kept trying to catch breaths through her nose, but Remadia locked her legs behind Bonnie’s head and sat back on her chest, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in a silent cry as she curled herself around Bonnie. Slick juices filled and spilled out of Bonnie’s mouth, but she obediently kept working at Remadia, as Remadia had done for her. When she was allowed to pull her head away, she realized just how soaked she was, her hair matting and stuck to her face and the inside of Remadia’s thigh. The mattress beneath her was not spared, dampened by Remadia’s passionate flood. Shaking, Remadia unhooked her legs from behind Bonnie’s head and stretched them out as she laid backwards atop Bonnie, the joints of her knees cracking harshly in her ears. Her arms fell bonelessly to her sides, resting atop Bonnie’s breasts as she languished in the afterglow of her orgasm, panting heavily. She toyed limply with Bonnie’s nipples, weak fingers pulling at them and slapping at the breast, letting them bounce and jiggle in idle, giggling amusement. Bonnie tried to return the favor, taking Remadia’s breasts roughly in hand, pinching the areolae beneath the nipples and squeezing the whole breast tight. She could feel Remadia spasm against her in response, Remadia’s ass clenching and abdomen tightening as she drew her legs back in against Bonnie’s head. Bonnie was intrigued.

Remadia slapped Bonnie’s hand, hissing, “stop it,” startling Bonnie.

Bonnie let go.

“Thank you,” she said. “Sorry to snap, I get very sensitive post-coitus, and I’m a touch overstimulated, dear.”

Bonnie nodded though Remadia couldn’t see her, and gently massaged the tissue of the breast instead.

“Much better, love. Thank you.” After a moment of enjoying the massage, Remadia lifted Bonnie’s hands off her and had Bonnie readjust herself as she clambered gracelessly around her, so that Bonnie was on her side holding Remadia against her, and Remadia had her head buried into Bonnie’s sternum, sandwiched between her breasts.

Bonnie sighed, tolerating the uncomfortable heat as she started tracing circles against Remadia’s back.

Bonnie had no frame of reference for the time, but the sun seemed like it was getting very late in the morning. She craned her neck down to an uncomfortable degree to put her lips against Remadia’s scalp. “Remy,” she mumbled, kissing her head and pulling back before she strained her neck, “as much as I love cuddling with you, you did say time was of the essence.”

Remadia - who had started drifting in and out of sleep in Bonnie’s warm embrace- stilled, fists balling themselves up against Bonnie’s side. “Damn it,” she muttered, glaring up at Bonnie from between Bonnie’s tits.

Bonnie couldn’t help but to laugh at the sight, letting her go and rolling away. No longer in the moment, Bonnie became aware of the strong and distinct reek of sweat and sex. She stood, stretching her tall body out and groaning with every pop and crackle of her spine. “Let us get going, my lady,” Bonnie said, a cheeky smile on her face as she turned and bowed low, “your Countessness is needed.”

Remadia chucked a pillow at Bonnie’s head. Bonnie laughed as she caught it, throwing it back at Remadia, guffawing as the pillow caught Remadia across the face, knocking her over and making her cry out in surprise.

“Fine!” Remadia laughed, pulling the pillow off her face and making a noise of mock disgust. “I’ll bathe and let my couturiers make me presentable to the world.” She rolled off the bed, turning to consider the dark, damp spots across the mattress left over from their lovemaking. “I’ll have to have this cleaned thoroughly, as well.”

“Indeed,” Bonnie said.

They stood there. A minute passed and Bonnie shuffled her feet, not sure what else to do. Remadia opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. Bonnie curled the toes of one foot, cracking the joints.

“Bonnie, I-” Remadia started.

“Remy, that was amazing.” Bonnie interrupted. “That was incredible. I, uh,” Bonnie was reaching for words to say, “well, that is, I’d like to maybe-?”

Remadia smiled. “Oh, absolutely, Bonnie.” Remadia moved around the bed, closing the distance between her and Bonnie. She reached up and caressed Bonnie’s cheek. “Did you honestly think after all that, I didn’t intend for this to be a regular occurrence?”

Bonnie blushed, embarrassed. “I hadn’t been sure what to to think.”

“Bonnie, I told you I wasn’t going to just abandon you on the floor - the floor being metaphorical in this case,” Remadia stroked Bonnie’s lip with her thumb, “and, anyway, it’s not like I could piss off and away from you, anyway. You are my bodyguard, afterall.”

Bonnie beamed, and Remadia beamed back. “Oh, yeah. I guess I am that, yes.” Bonnie leaned down to Remadia, and Remadia rose to meet her in a soft kiss.

“Okay, my dear, go on and see about cleaning yourself up,” Remadia said, pulling away and giving Bonnie a playful swat on the rear.

“Can’t I see about bathing with you instead?” Bonnie joked as she picked up her dress, still kicked to to the wayside in a careless pile from the night before.

“Please, Bonnie, it’s hard enough to keep my hands off your skin as it is. On! Away with you!” Remadia kept swatting Bonnie’s butt, pushing Bonnie towards the door as Bonnie was scrambling to slip her arms inside the sleeves of the dress.

Laughing, Bonnie managed to get her arms into the dress and over her bust, Remadia unrelenting in her jovial assault. Bonnie turned away from Remadia so that she could wrap the train of the dress around her waist, providing mild modesty down to mid-thigh.

“Bonnie,” Remadia groaned, “if the twins catch sight of you-”

“If they catch sight of me.”

“Take a moment to put the dress on at least somewhat properly, Bonnie. You look like a fool.”

Bonnie gasped in mock horror. “My lady, do you-?” She interrupted herself with another gasp. “Do you presume to lecture me on - dare I say it? - propriety?”

Remadia pursed her lips and made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a strangled roar as Bonnie laughed herself out of the room.