#thinness equaled weakness

[tirsynni]

A popular concept in fiction: "this character wants to be more attractive, so they want to be thinner."

I get where people are coming from, but I think for many fandoms, the OPPOSITE would be true. Seeing that in certain fandoms is baffling.

I've seen fanfiction with BILBO BAGGINS worrying that he isn't attractive because he isn't thin enough, and HELL NO. Hobbits, especially Hobbits on an adventure, would be like "Ugh. I look like I'm wasting away. I'm surviving on only two meals a day and it shows. I wouldn't be able to show my face at home looking like this."

Warriors? Certain types of nobles in fantasy settings? Farmers? Etc. I can see thin being a sign of weakness or a sign of being poor. "I look like I can't afford any good food at all! How horrifying!" "I look like a weakling. No one would ever expect me to wield a sword looking like this!"

The concept of thinness equaling attractiveness is a specific cultural concept. Does it fit the culture you're writing about? Often, it really doesn't.

[aorish]

Recent discourse reminds me of that cult indoctrination trick that's often used to weed out more difficult marks early on, where they tell you all that you aren't allowed to eat rice on Tuesdays and then if you protest they go "wow SOMEBODY likes rice a little much huh" as if you're the fucking weirdo who cares too much about how much rice is consumed between Monday and Wednesday instead of them.

And this forces you to decide whether your autonomy matters to you more than the approval of the group - while they'll still act like you're on thin ice either way, if you give in at this point they know you're theirs forever, because now they've established a foothold, you've shown a moral weakness, which they will brand you with so it can be used against you in the future ("hey RICE-addict here doesn't want help break into the city records office") to force you to double-down and isolate you further.

And if instead you do decide to push back further, after your abrupt departure from the group ("You're seriously leaving us over RICE?!? Seriously?") and subsequent ostracism, you can then be used as a demonstration to the others who were more pliable, of how the outgroup is full of people like you who are obsessed with violating the No-Tuesday-Rice rule to the point where they'll abandon all their friends, who cared so much for them, so it clearly isn't an arbitrary restriction, you're the kind of monster these rules are intended to protect them from, thus all the other wise and esoteric precepts of the charismatic leader are implied to be equally justified.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Eighteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader - AO3 - 3.1K words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. Sexual content. Pregnancy and things that come with it. Brief mention of options in relation to termination of pregnancy. PTSD. Heavy emotions. Graphic descriptions of domestic violence and miscarriage, suicidal ideation. This is mostly inner monologue. Feelings of anxiety, despair, fear. This part is a little shorter due to its emotional nature.

There’s no oxygen.

No room for your lungs to expand, nothing for you to suck into your chest and relieve the ache blooming in your bones.

You drift, unmoored, a sailboat with no rudder, no engine to save you in an ocean without a breeze. All you can do is follow the current, the one leading you back to the dozen HCG strips buried in the bottom of a trash can, faint pink lines buried in the membranes and the matter of your brain.

The midwife that squeezed you in confirmed it all with a blood draw.

“You have options.”

“I know.”

There are resources, and education for you…  though I know you’re probably aware.”

“Yup.”

“Depending on your decisions, we’d like to see you in about two weeks for an eight-week ultrasound.” You gulp. The air is tragically thin in this room, and the paper crinkles under your uneasy weight.  

“Okay.”

When Simon appears in the main lobby for the usual trek home, you barely hold back the urge to vomit all over his shoes. Your legs are weak, trembling with each step forward, and you hold his hand so tight, your bones ache.

Sensitive as always, he lingers alongside you in the quiet, biding his time before slicing through your silence. “What is it sweetheart?”

“Huh?” You’re already on the front doorstep, memory of the entire trip evaporated.

“Do you still not feel well?”

“Oh, yeah.” The lie is toxic, sludge stuck in your bloodstream, clogging your capillaries until they burst like fireworks. “It’s my stomach.”

“Pen’s still under the weather too.”

“Poor thing.” The words are numb. Your mind is numb. Your body is a livewire and exhausted, all at once, the push and pull almost knocking you onto the floor. In the kitchen, Johnny wraps an arm around your waist, leaning in for a kiss, but nothing registers.

“Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Autopilot. That’s the gear you’re in. Going through the motions, trying to hold yourself together, keep your head above water.

Is this real?

Is this happening?

What will they say?

What will they think?

“Bunny?” Johnny’s thumb is on your carotid, where your pulse beats. Where your heart pushes blood through your circulatory system, flowing to a presence now fluttering inside you.

One plus one equals two.

“Sorry, yeah. Think I’m gonna go up, take a nap.”

“Yell if ye need anything, aye?” All you can do is nod.

You gravitate towards the guest room before you can stop yourself. It’s as you left it, bed made, sheets crisp, remnants of your things separated into easily sorted piles. In the nest of blankets, it’s easy to pretend. Easy to imagine the bed as a cloud of cotton candy, so high in the sky, above the earth, above this… this thing that is happening.

An embryo. Something two millimeters long, siphoning its existence from yours.

That tiny sliver of hope is nowhere to be found, replaced now with logical, realistic questions.

Can you sustain a pregnancy, after the damage inflicted during the last one?

Can you carry one to viability?

Can you mentally, emotionally, physically handle a pregnancy?

An infant?

And what about them?

What about you?

You think about the times you wanted to die. The moments you sat in the shower, streams of red running to the drain, a clump of cells you never knew draining from your body with each second.

A loss you never knew you’d mourn. Something stolen. Something slipping through your fingers, handfuls of sand blown away by a sea breeze.

The overwhelming feeling of drowning every time you laid on the floor in a broken heap, synapses misfiring, making wrong connections, desperately trying to latch onto anything normal, anything sane. Staring at the ceiling, slow flow of blood dripping down your throat, left wondering if this will be it, this will be the moment it goes too far. Your spine will snap. You’ll take a blow to the head strong enough to render you unconscious, permanently. Your windpipe will be crushed, closing in on itself, starving your brain of oxygen. In those moments, you could only hope.

You’re grateful, at least, that you don’t feel like that now.

In a cocoon on a cusp of hazy sleep, you’re cradled to a chest, jostled lightly until blankets are tucked back up around your shoulders and snuggled between two warm bodies, a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

“Our sweet girl,” Simon murmurs in the dark, “we’re here. Whatever it is, we have you.”

A dream.

You sleepwalk through life. One week turns to two, and then three. Three weeks turn to four, and more, before you know it, you’re twelve weeks pregnant, still going through the motions, robotically making your way through each day. You’re shoving the waterfall of feelings and emotions so deep, so far away, they’re likely to never see the sun again.

You lock them in a box.

You bury it in a grave, six feet under.

At work, you’re grateful you know your job inside and out, because you’re mostly just going through the motions. The only time you show any sign of life is when your boss tries to float you to the NICU. When you dig in your heels, repeatedly denying the request, she finally gives up and moves onto a new unsuspecting victim.

Better them than you.

At home, its worse. You don’t know if you’re imagining the tension or if its truly there, eggshells crumbling beneath your feet, words turned to ash. You’re a marionette, fate pulling the strings, tearing the joints of your limbs in a million directions.

They can tell. They read you too well, but you’re not so easily swayed. Simon tries to coax it gently; Johnny tries to bluntly force it out. Both tactics fail, but they themselves stay steady, and true, holding you in the night, soothing you with touch and whispers, loving you through it all.

During the day, they coddle you. Johnny massages your shoulder, tips your chin back until your skull rests on collarbone, dots kisses all over your skin. He tugs you onto the patio, curls up on the outdoor loveseat with you under a big blanket, your head in his lap, telling you stories about his childhood, his parents. He makes you giggle by reminiscing of all the times he chased Simon around at work, how Kyle fell out of a helicopter, how they had to wear suits for an undercover op one time and Simon's ripped right down the ass.

Simon cooks, all your favorites, things you forgot he pays attention to, and spoons you on the couch, big arm like a safety net stretched across your chest to keep you close. He brings tea to bed, reading until your eyes close, calming your mind enough to lull you to sleep.

Even at night, they treasure you like glass. Johnny lays on his stomach, thumbs rubbing circles into your thighs, parting them, backs of his knuckles tracing over the seam of your pussy, coaxing your arousal, taking his time. He licks your clit so slowly its torture, all the while Simon tugs your knee as wide as he can, hand fisted in the mohawk, kissing you from shoulder to neck, over and over.

You beg them to fuck you hard, harder than you’ve ever asked for it before. Johnny jumps at the idea, but Simon kills it immediately.

“No,” he traces a line over the curve of your ass to the creases of your thighs, “that’s not going to happen, sweetheart. Not until you tell us what’s going on.” You opt to bury your face in his chest instead and ride Johnny’s hand as Simon coaches, telling you how good you are, how lucky they are, how much you mean to them.

If only they knew. Would they still feel the same?

It’s more than you deserve, you think. More than you know how to handle. The guilt piles onto your shoulders. You’re carrying a life, a life you created with them, a life they should know about.

The decisions waiting in the wings haunt you at every turn.

What should you do? What will you do?

You should tell them. They should know.

Why are you keeping this a secret?

The time is passing too fast, and with it, your panic increases, forcing your back to bow, hands clutching at your legs, head hanging heavy to the floor. At work in the closet, at home the moments you’re alone, the agony steals your breath, heart shredding to pieces. It overcomes you, floods your nervous system until the world spins.

In the shower, you fall apart, truly, knees slamming into tile, your shoulders slumped against the wall.

It’s hard to tell you’re crying with water streaming over your face.

You lose your shit the day Penny crawls across the couch to cuddle you.

She pulls herself up onto your belly, her head resting on your chest, chubby hands fisted in your shirt.

“Bunny wead?” She wants a story, a routine the two of you enjoy together, turning the pages of a children’s book and acting out all the voices. She’ll squeal with glee, her laughter full of excitement, and you’ll tickle her sides while pretending to eat her foot.

It makes you both happy, but today, it splits your soul in two.

You burst into tears. She jolts back, looking up into your face, little brow furrowed in confusion, mouth shocked into a circle.

“Bunny.” She pats your cheek, alarmed, and you skim your nose across the top of her head, breathing her deep, anchoring your arm around her back. She’s starting to get upset, too perceptive, too empathetic, already expressing the traits of both her parents. You try to soothe her distress.

“It’s alright.” Your voice cracks on the promise, her nose pressed to your throat. “It’s alright, Penny. I’m sorry. Everything’s okay.” Johnny’s unmistakable gait sounds on the stairs, still slightly off balance, and you hastily wipe your face, forcing your eyes to his as he approaches the couch.

“What’s wrong?” He sees it immediately, and you shake him off with another lie, so many little white ones rotting into blinding despair.

“I had a bad day at work yesterday, that’s all. Just still trying to process it.” His head cocks.

“Ye sure?”

“Yeah, promise. I’ll be fine.”

The tide changes at work.

A man lies in a medically induced coma, barbiturates keeping him in the dark, a suspended state of uncertainty. His wife waits, and waits, fixes her too keen eyes on you every time she sees you, waiting for an update, good news, anything. Anything that could bring her peace.

On the second day of your work week, your steps stutter at the sight of her sitting bedside, a baby in her arms, gentle words floating between them.

“We’ve moved onto ba now, for a bottle, which is just crazy,” she murmurs, a hand under her cheek, wiping away tracks of tears, “and I think he’s too big for me to carry around at this point.” There’s a wet chuckle, and the baby tips forward, smacking his hand on his dad’s. “Is that daddy?” She bounces him, quiet as he babbles and gurgles, his eyes wide at the sights and sounds in a hospital room.

You clear your throat. She startles.

“Oh god, sorry… I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” Intruding on private moments is not uncommon, though here it feels different. “I just need to check on some things and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She nods, and outside of the baby’s noises, the room is silent until she breaks it with a whisper.

“I know there’s probably no chance he can hear me,” her fingers stroke through his hair, a pained look on her face, “but I like to believe he can.”

“There’s no definitive research that he can’t,” you tell her softly, carefully going about your work to avoid disturbing them.

“I hope he can hear the baby. He’s… he’s missed so much already, you know?” She sniffles, tears freely falling, and your heart clenches. “We’re broken without him; I’m broken without him. He’s my family, my everything. I can’t… we’re not supposed to be apart. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You have thick skin. You’ve seen countless people die. Consoled hundreds of family members. Held hands with patients taking their last breath.

This shouldn’t bother you. It shouldn’t affect you in any way, but when you look at your patient, and his partner, and his child-

All you can see is your boys and their unconditional love. Simon sitting vigilant at Johnny’s bedside. Johnny’s tears when he finally woke up. The fear in Simon’s eyes when Johnny seized, the trust he placed in your promise to take care of him. Penny in his arms as soon as he was strong enough to hold her. Their resolve to hold their family together, their dedication to you through it all. The three of them, a family, now yours, spun together with string stronger than steel, connecting the four of you for the rest of your life.

You’ll make it through. You’ll all make it through. You have their love shining down on your face. The love strong enough to hold you tight, rock you through your nightmares, encourage you to grow, to be yourself, to let it all go.

And they have you. Your love. Something you never thought would exist again, fostered and enticed forward, magnified for them. For the first time, you’re able to give to someone, to comfort them, care for them the way they have for you, hold them tight through their pain, their fears. It’s never felt so…

right.

It’s not one plus one. It’s five. Five hearts, making a family.

You know, without a doubt, they’ll love this baby. They won’t leave your side. They’ll take care of you, they’ll nurture you both, they’ll be solid, and supportive, and patient through it all.

You don’t need them to say it, and you don’t need to be scared.

Their light soothing your despair, healing the deep embedded scars, their warmth of the sun-

The little sunbeam growing inside you.

“You’re a few weeks late.” The midwife shakes her head as you settle on the exam table. You showed up in a whirlwind again, convincing her to fit you in between appointments.

“I know, I… I was struggling with it, but I feel better now. I’m… ready.” Your lips quirk at the corners, and she smiles in return.

“Should we take a look then?” You nod with a deep breath.

The jelly is cold, and she purposefully keeps the screen turned away from you, clicking, measuring, assessing in silence. It's standard policy for any employee or medical professional. Though you're not an ultrasound tech, it's not outside the realm of possibility that you could read the image on the screen before she can tell you gently that something is wrong.

Your past haunts you, taunts you, convinces you this has all been for nothing. You’re too damaged for this. Your body is broken. He took too much.

Still, you hope. You cling to a future, a vision, Penny holding the baby with Johnny’s arms supporting her, Simon half asleep with a burp cloth on his shoulder, little one asleep on his chest.

“Alright,” she turns it back for you to see, her expression colored with kindness. “Everything looks great, honey.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Placenta is in optimal position, and baby is right on track developmentally for twelve weeks.” She twists a knob, the volume, filling the room with sound of galloping hoofbeats.

The heartbeat.

“Oh my god.” Your hand clasps over your mouth and you desperately try to bring air in through your nose, filling your diaphragm, staving off a river of tears unsuccessfully. She hands you a tissue.

“I’ll get you some printouts, okay?” You can’t do anything but choke on a thank you.

You slip away after your appointment, crossing through the halls leading to the out-patient wing where you’ll find Johnny in physical therapy, Simon in a chair scrolling through his phone just outside. The smile stretches across your face naturally, joy bursting at the seams.  

It's a new day, a new moment to turn away from the darkness and step into the sun.

You’re nearly skipping, heart so full, overflowing with hope, with happiness, your hands trembling, pictures of the scan clutched in your fingers. You hold them so tight, close to your chest, afraid they may disappear, be lost.

In hindsight, the crippling agony and fear you’ve been holding in seems so foolish now. It’s easy to curse yourself for the doubt, for the despair, but the path you took to get here, to be present in this moment, moving forward, was worth it.

They love you, and they’ll love little sunbeam. Penny will be the best big sister. You’ll make new memories, together, build the beginning of this life into a forever. Everything will work out; you can feel it now. You’ve shed the dented armor, the walls, the fence topped with barbed wire. The girl in the mirror, gone. It’s all crumbled down. With Johnny. With Simon. Your family.

A family of five.

You round the corner with your hands knitted together, a flimsy effort to still them, elated and barely able to hold your secret in. You won’t be able to do a cute announcement, won’t be patient enough to do something special like get Penny a shirt that says, “best big sister” even though you’d like to.

You’ve kept it from them for long enough. You need them to know.

You look for Simon first, expecting him to be waiting outside the door, but when he's not there, you glance around, and then peek into the observation window to find the physical therapy room empty.

Where are they? Where-

They’re at the end of the hall, talking to someone out of sight. Simon has his arms crossed, his body angled partially in front of Johnny, who shifts his weight onto his good leg. They’re both wearing serious expressions, Simon’s the most severe, and then Johnny’s lips twist into a grim sort of smile.

Whoever they’re talking to steps forward, and your heart burns into ash, falling through the floor to bottomless depths of darkness.

Phillip.

[purinfelix]

I AHVE AN IDEA!!!

1v1-ing joao in soccer 😭

friendly competition ₊˚⊹⋆ - joao felix

pairing: joao x reader w/c: 454

a/n: this idea AAAA anon i love you i hope u enjoy thiss <33 - i just know he's the most competitive boyfriend ever no matter how soft he tries to be ...

"You suck at this, you know," Joao laughed as he watched you scramble to retrieve the ball, after missing yet another one of his passes.

"Shut up!" You huff, picking up the ball and throwing it at his chest as hard as you can - trying not to think about how attractive it is that he bumps it and has it at his feet almost immediately. "Who cares if I'm bad at football, one of us has to be the pretty one in this relationship."

The two of you were stood in his backyard, each manning your own tiny make-shift goal like your life depended on it. When your boyfriend challenged you to a one-on-one football match you had figured it wouldn't be anything more than a light-hearted cute activity. Almost half an hour later, you were starting to doubt this.

Your legs were starting to hurt, and the feeling of a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead was something you'd rather not deal with right now. Still, the competitive fire in your belly kept you on your feet, in a fruitless attempt to keep up with the football skills of your boyfriend - the professional footballer.

"Next goal wins, alright?" Joao said, kicking the ball from one of his feet to another before gently passing it to you. You sigh again, your patience running thin - at least until an idea sprung into your head.

Trying your best to dribble the ball towards your boyfriend's goal, your movements were rough and crude in comparison to the smooth and elegant ones he had shown you earlier, a smirk growing on your face regardless. Your boyfriend stood his ground with his hands on his hips, watching you with a smile on his face that was equal parts proud and amused. Just as you dribbled up to him though, he made an attempt to defend against you, stepping in to block your path. Expecting this, you waited until he darted up to you before pulling him into a kiss - one he wasn't expecting but also clearly wasn't opposed to as you physically felt his guard let down.

You laughed against his lips before pulling away, taking advantage of his semi-dazed state to kick past him and shoot into his goal. Squealing in happiness you turned around to him to see his betrayed expression, and a part of you almost felt bad for pulling such a low trick on him.

"Looks like I win," you giggled anyway, and he only offered a weak smirk in response, "Thanks to my secret weapon."

"Next time I'll be sure to borrow it from you," he laughed, picking the ball up in one arm and slipping the other around your waist.

[ghsface]

BUT WHEN YOU GET ME ALONE, IT'S SO SIMPLE | spencer reid

Sumary: After years of friendship you decide to ruin it for good

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spencer, oral sex (f), semi-public, p in v sex, If I'm missing something, let me know

Word count: idk i just started writing and i couldn't stop

Author's note: So this is my first smut I hate it but I like it at the same time, tell me what you think, I also have so many things to publish, tell me if you want to be on my tag list, I'm sorry if there are misspelled words or spelling mistakes, my first language is not English🎀

The clock struck nine at night and the FBI office in Quantico was unusually quiet. The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally, adding a touch of surrealism to the atmosphere. You had decided to stay a little later to finish a report that had been piling up on your desk for days.

In the distance, you could see the tall, thin figure of Spencer Reid, still absorbed in his work. Ever since you joined the team, you had felt an undeniable attraction to Spencer. His intelligence, his unique way of being, and his charming shyness had captured you from the first moment.

You had noticed that your eyes met more often than you considered casual, and every interaction, no matter how small, left a mark on your mind.

There was something about Spencer that attracted you in a way you couldn't explain.

The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, or the way he bit his lip when he was focused on his readings.

He was a man who hid so much depth behind a facade of calmness and analysis.

That night, as you went over your notes, your thoughts inevitably drifted to him. You imagined what it would be like to be close to Spencer, to feel his warmth, his touch. The thought made you smile and sigh at the same time. You decided that tonight could be different.

Maybe it was time to break down the barriers and see what lay beyond the furtive glances and accidental brushes.

You stood up from your desk and walked to the section of the office where Spencer was working. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and his eyes met yours. The spark in his gaze gave you the courage you needed to move forward.

“Hey, Spence,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as your heart pounded. “You staying late too?”

“Yeah,” he replied, with a smile that made your knees weak a little. “I’m just finishing up going over some cases. How about you?”

“Same here,” you lied lightly, feeling your true intentions reflected in your eyes. “I thought I’d take a break and check on you.”

The conversation flowed naturally, but the tension between you was palpable. Every word, every gesture, seemed to be laden with deeper meaning. When you both realized the office was completely empty, the atmosphere changed. Spencer leaned a little closer to you, and you responded by moving closer as well.

“I’ve always felt like there’s something between us,” you murmured, your eyes locked with his. “Something that goes beyond simple friendship.” Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with emotion.

“I’ve felt it too,” he confessed. “But I never knew if you felt the same.”

Without thinking, you moved closer and took his hand. “So what do we do about it?”

Spencer didn’t respond with words. Instead, he gently led you towards one of the empty offices. He closed the door behind you, creating a small haven of privacy in the middle of the vast building.

The room was dark, lit only by the dim light coming in from the hallway. Spencer looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before. His hands found your face, and his lips landed on yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, but soon became more passionate and urgent.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt. Spencer responded with equal intensity, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You found yourself lost in the feeling of being so close to him, of feeling every beat of his heart against yours.

The kiss broke briefly, and Spencer looked at you with a mix of desire and tenderness. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

“Me too,” you replied, before pulling him back to you.

Clothes quickly came undone, each item of clothing falling to the floor in deliberate oblivion. The touch of his skin against yours was electrifying, every caress, every kiss, igniting a fire inside you that you didn't know existed. Spencer's hands explored your body with a mix of urgency and gentleness, as if he were discovering a hidden treasure.

His fingers found the clasp of your blouse, sliding it down deftly. You felt his breathing quicken as did yours. You helped yourself to get rid of Spencer's shirt, revealing his firm, sculpted torso. Your hands ran over his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under your fingers.

Spencer led you to the office couch, and gently laid you down, placing himself on top of you. His hands explored every corner of your body, from your neck to your hips, and your sighs mixed with his in a symphony of desire. Every movement, every touch, was a declaration of love and desire, a testament to the deep connection you shared.

“This is more than I ever imagined,” you murmured, feeling the pleasure build with each caress.

“I know,” Spencer replied, his eyes filled with adoration as he looked at you. “This is just the beginning.”

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. His tongue traced circles over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure along your spine. When his lips found the edge of your bra, Spencer paused, looking up at you with a silent question in his eyes.

You nodded, giving him permission to continue. In one deft move, Spencer unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. His lips found one of your nipples, sucking and licking until a moan escaped your lips. Meanwhile, his hands continued to explore your body, sliding down your sides and down to your thighs.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as he continued to torture you with his mouth. Every lick, every soft bite, sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, desire burning inside you with an intensity you had never experienced.

Spencer moved down, his lips trailing kisses from your breasts to your belly. He paused briefly to unbutton your pants, sliding them and your panties down your legs. You found yourself completely naked under his intense gaze, vulnerable yet aroused for what was to come.

His lips found the inside of your thighs, kissing them softly before moving to your center. When his tongue finally made contact with your clit, a cry of pleasure escaped your lips. Spencer alternated between licking and sucking, bringing you to the edge again and again without letting you fall.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged, desperately needing more.

He looked up, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

“I want you to enjoy every second of this,” he said, his voice husky and laden with passion.

With those words, he slid up, aligning his erection with your entrance. He looked at you once more, seeking confirmation. You nodded, and he thrust slowly, filling you completely. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You could feel every inch of his length, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back, your moans filling the room as he increased the pace.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice cracking with effort. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Me neither,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop, Spencer.”

His movements became faster and stronger, each thrust bringing you closer to climax. You could feel the heat building in your belly, a delicious tension threatening to boil over at any moment. Spencer leaned into you, his lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

When you finally reached orgasm, your body arched beneath him, a cry of pleasure tearing through your lips. Spencer kept thrusting, bringing you to a second climax before letting go, his own orgasm exploding inside you.

You both collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily as you tried to recover. Spencer held you close, his hands gently caressing your back as you rested your head on his chest.

“That was amazing,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin

“Yes, it was,” he replied, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I love you.”

"I love you too spence,” you said, feeling overwhelming happiness knowing that you had found something truly special.

You stood there for a while, enjoying the closeness and newfound intimacy. You knew this would change everything, but you were both ready to face whatever came. Spencer looked at you with a satisfied smile and you smiled back, feeling a happiness you had never experienced before.

“I think we should head back before someone misses us,” he finally said, with a soft laugh.

“Yeah,” you replied, though a part of you wanted to stay there forever. You quickly dressed, adjusting your clothes and hair before leaving the empty office. As you returned to the main area, a few coworkers glanced at you curiously, but no one said anything. The spark in your eyes was enough to make everyone understand that something significant had happened.

The next few days were filled with knowing glances and secret smiles. The connection between you had deepened, and though you tried to remain professional, it was hard not to let your feelings seep into every interaction.

One night, after a particularly long meeting, Spencer invited you over to his house for dinner. You eagerly accepted, knowing that this would be another chance to explore your relationship.

The dinner was intimate and relaxed. You talked about everything and nothing, enjoying each other’s company without the pressures of work. After dinner, you sat down on the couch, and Spencer pulled you close to him.

“I love you,” he said, his words filled with sincerity and emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling your heart fill with indescribable joy.

The kiss that followed was slow and deep, filled with the promise of a future together. Spencer led you to his bedroom, and that night, you gave yourselves over to pleasure and love again, knowing you had found something truly special.

Over time, your relationship grew stronger. You learned to balance work and personal life, finding ways to support each other both professionally and personally. The team noticed the change, but everyone stood by you, knowing you had found something rare and beautiful.

Every day with Spencer was a new adventure, a chance to discover more about him and yourself. The passion and connection you shared never waned, and together, you faced every challenge that came your way.

And so, what began as a silent attraction in an empty office turned into an epic love story, one that neither of you had anticipated but one you both embraced with your entire being.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly☆

[ppssession]

It wouldn't hurt to switch roles sometimes.

Denis is a skinny nerd who looks very weak during his school break. Instead of having a relaxing break, he has to work at a seaside resort to earn money to survive because he is alone with no parents

One day while he was working hard, he met the son of the owner of this resort. He was a hot guy with a hot body that made my heart flutter. He was often at the beach showing off his beautiful muscles. He came to stay here during the school break. He seemed to be the same age as me, which made me feel a little jealous because our fates were so different

Later, I often noticed him disappearing into a small stone alley to take a nap during the day. When he was sleeping, I would often sneak up on him to watch him. I admired his handsome face while he was sleeping, which made my heart beat faster. When I returned, I would sometimes be reprimanded by my boss for disappearing for a while One day while I was cleaning my room in the morning, I found a strange coin. It had small letters that said “Switch”. I was a little surprised when I looked at it, but I didn’t really care. After I finished cleaning, I walked out of the room and looked at the beach. I saw a young man who had made my heart flutter not long ago. Even though I had been watching him for a while, I still didn’t know his name. I tried to ask my boss, but he gave me a stupid reason that a temporary employee like me didn’t need to know the name of the resort owner’s son. Even though I was hurt, I couldn’t do anything. At work, I didn’t even have any friends to talk to.

Not long after, my boss ordered me to bring him sunglasses. "Why didn't he go get them himself?" I thought to myself as I brought him sunglasses. When I arrived at the beach, I didn't see him. I knew immediately that he must be in that small stone alley. When I arrived at the stone alley, I was shocked to see him lying naked. Normally, he would wear pajamas, but now he took off his pajamas to reveal his big, long penis. Its thickness made my heart beat very fast. I stared at it, looking at every part of his body as he slept. But suddenly, I felt a vibration from a coin in his pocket. When I opened it, I found a strange coin that shook and glowed. I took it out and saw the small letters that said "Switch". It was shining very brightly. I don't know what made me say "Switch". Suddenly, my body slowly changed.

I screamed as my muscles changed. It was no wonder that no one could hear me, because the alley was quite far from the resort. But the strange thing was that no matter how loud I screamed, the body of the resort owner's son did not respond as if he could not hear me. My body gradually changed for the better. The muscles that were once thin gradually thickened until they were equal to his. My height quickly increased until they were equal to his. My face gradually changed as well. My eyes, nose, and mouth gradually changed to be his. The pain gradually decreased as almost everything gradually became his. Or was it only my penis that remained unchanged? But before I felt comfortable, my penis gradually expanded. Its size and length gradually increased. As its size and length increased, I felt as good as if someone was using his mouth to worship me.

When it was equal to his size, I reached my climax, my body trembled as I was released, I breathed heavily, looking at my changed body, running my hands over every part with satisfaction, this face, the curves of my muscles, and this genitals, it was so wonderful. I looked at the still body of the resort owner's son, his body slowly changed and shrunk into my old body. Seeing this, I smiled wickedly, took off my old clothes, stole the swimming trunks that were lying next to him to put on. "It feels so good to have a new chicken." While putting it on, I looked at the strange coin that had fallen as I slowly changed. I picked it up. When my finger touched the coin, memories of the resort owner's son flooded my mind. Addresses, passwords, family preferences, everything came to mind. "I finally know your name, Six. I am now Six Mason, the son of the hot resort owner. Denis walked out of the alley in his new identity. After walking for a while, he looked at his old body walking back to work and was reprimanded for being gone for so long. "Poor Denis, my old self." Denis, who was now Six, wore sunglasses and walked back and forth on the beach to show off his hot body like the old Six used to do. "Well, I have to think about what to do next in this new body when I get back to the resort. “I think I’d rather have fun with my new chicken, haha,” he said as he reached into his pants pocket to grab his penis that was slowly becoming hard inside his pants.

This is a story requested by a lovely follower. I hope you, the readers and those who requested it, will enjoy it. Haha, if there are any errors, please help me fix them. I hope to continue writing stories like this. See you in the next one. Bye bye.

[revelboo]

Everything Is Alright Pt 61

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• No one questions him taking extra energon. It’s just logged because of his rank, but that report will land in Megatron’s hands eventually. One extra cube might be ignored, but Soundwave doubts it. Their stores are already stretched too thin for their numbers and that guilt follows him as he heads back to his quarters. That he’s stealing for Starscream energon someone might need. And Megatron is sure to ask why he needed extra. Omitting intel is one thing, but outright lying?

• Servos combing lazily through your hair, Starscream feels you curl closer in his arms, your face against the mesh of his neck and the warmth of your breath. Things now familiar as the beat of your little heart, things he needs to calm himself. Liking being able to hold you like this even if the conditions aren’t exactly ideal. “You and Soundwave are getting along,” you venture, your tone carefully neutral. Too neutral. Reminding him that you like the communications officer, too. And his tentative agreement to share that he already regrets. Leaning to put some space between you so he can see your face, you immediately drop your eyes. Embarrassed?

• He’s just staring down at you, servos reaching to gently make you meet his optics. “We’ve come to a an agreement about you,” he says, his rasping voice dipping into a growl that makes your heart beat faster. “To protect you.” Venting, his lips press into a thin line as he runs a servo across your cheek under your eye making you wonder if the tear tracks are still there. “But you’re still mine.” His tone is possessive as his jaw clenches and he looks away, leaving you to wonder what kind of arrangement they’d come to without your input. Because as much as he tries to take care of you, he still doesn’t see you as an equal, does he? You’re still his possession. And that while you were falling for him, it was one sided.

• “Yours,” you agree, eyes down. And there’s something in your tone and expression that bothers him. Don’t you understand how hard this is for him? Trusting anyone else with you after learning just how little time he has with you? And now even less, sharing it with Soundwave. Denta gritting, he wants to push. Try to figure out what’s going on in your head, but then Soundwave is stepping through the door, hands laden with energon cubes that he deliberately places on his desk instead of offering any to him. The message clear, that he’s not helping unless he’s sure Starscream will uphold their deal.

• Ignoring the Seeker’s glare and flared wings, Soundwave lays his palms on the berth and vaults up, mass shifting. If the theft of energon is going to be noticed anyway, why not take extra? Why not ensure Starscream can keep his word and share this time? Lurching upright, the Seeker drags you closer to his body, wings flicking aggressively even as he sags slightly. Still weak. “Little one,” Soundwave says, approaching slowly and crouching to reach for you, to brush the tips of his servos against your cheek. Not at all surprised when Starscream seizes his wrist to stop him. And he waits, helm lifting to stare at the Seeker in a silent question.

• Frozen between them, you can hear the faint warning rumbling out of Starscream, one arm curled around you, the other keeping Soundwave from touching you. “Star?” Lip still curled at the communications officer, the sound of your voice seems to snap him out of it and slowly, he lets Soundwave go. Still making that barely audible noise as the cassette master closes the distance and cups your cheek. Unsure what’s going on between them, but remembering his words. An agreement to protect you. And when Soundwave offers you a hand, you just look helplessly at Starscream, not sure what they want from you.

• You’re both staring at him now and Starscream hates it. Hates everything about this as he presses his mouth against your temple and laces his servos with your soft fingers and places your hand in Soundwave’s. Because it hurts to let go of you, it hurts to share you. Knows you’ll still be his no matter what, but watching Soundwave pull you closer and curl an arm around you as he cradles you against his chassis, it’s like a part of him is dying as you look back at him worriedly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, a promise to watch over you to soothe himself and you. To protect you even from your new guardian if need be.

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[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Four} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@originals23}: I Just gotta get an Elijah request in as well though: Female reader, Kinks 5, 13 and 26! Can't wait until it's finally fall!! Xoxo

♡♡♡ Ahhh! I adore you @originals23, this combo is divine ..♡♡♡

2.3k words - Kinks: squirting, daddy && lots of teaching ..

There was nothing quite like the feeling of anticipation, equal parts excitement and anxiety, building in the pit of your stomach. It made you feel alive, and as you waited for your boyfriend to show up at your door, that feeling was overwhelming you.

Earlier that day, you had been texting him about something or another. The conversation turned a little raunchy and, while you weren't complaining, you decided to have a little fun with him. So, you had texted him asking him what he would do if you were in front of him, completely naked and waiting for him.

His answer had you blushing down to your chest and clenching your thighs together, but it had also led to him promising that he'd show you in person if you wanted him to. Now here you were, waiting for him to make good on his promise.

It was Elijah after all, and he always kept his word.

Your heart leaped into your throat at the sound of the doorbell, sending a wave of nervous excitement through you. You took a shaky breath, smoothing your hands down your sides to calm your trembling fingers. With each step toward the door, your pulse quickened, anticipation tightening in your chest. When you finally opened it, there he stood. Calm, collected, and already making your knees weak.

"Hey." You said, your heart skipping a beat when you looked into his warm, dark eyes.

"Hello, darling." Elijah’s voice was deep, smooth, and laced with the quiet authority that always left you breathless. He stood there, immaculate as always, his dark suit perfectly tailored to his broad frame, his eyes studying you with a hunger just beneath the surface of his usual restraint.

You took a moment to drink him in, trying to slow your racing heart. It didn't work. You were certain he could hear the way your pulse raced and your heart fluttered.

"Waiting for me, were you?" His lips curved into a knowing smile as he closed the door behind him.

"I... um..."

The way he looked at you left you feeling exposed. Like he could see right through the thin robe you had on, like he could see exactly how wet you were just from the sight of him.

"Yes," you said, looking up at him through your lashes, your heart still fluttering in your chest. "I was."

He moved closer, his fingers trailing up your arm before settling at your jaw, tipping your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "I like it when you wait for me."

You shuddered at his praise, his words sending heat straight between your legs.

Elijah chuckled softly, his hand falling to the small of your back, pulling you against him.

"I take it you enjoyed my reply earlier," he mused, his fingers dancing over your ribs.

"You could say that." You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His eyes darkened, his gaze raking over you as his grip on you tightened, then he pulled on the tie of your robe, letting it fall open.

"Show me exactly how much." His voice was low, demanding, and when he looked at you, it was as if he was peering directly into your soul.

You pulled away from him, taking a step back to give him a better view, your skin flushing as he took in the sight of your naked body. His gaze traveled slowly over your curves, his lips parting slightly, a soft groan escaping him.

You playfully twirled around, giving him a full view, feeling the heat of his stare like a physical caress.

"Well, what do you think?" You teased, biting your lip, watching him hungrily.

"Come here." Elijah commanded, motioning with his hand, his voice low, laced with want.

You shook your head and gave him a cheeky grin, before breaking out into a run towards the bedroom.

You giggled, hopping onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He didn't give chase, instead he leaned in the doorway, tossing aside his suit jacket and unbuttoning his cufflinks.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" You asked, batting your lashes innocently.

"Daddy?" He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm going to show you why you shouldn't call me that."

His threat was thrilling, making you clench around nothing. You sat up, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him intently as he slowly rolled his sleeves up, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You know," he began, moving closer. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It's quite distracting."

"Sorry," you grinned, not meaning a word of it.

"Oh, I'm sure you are." He leaned over you, his hands on either side of you, caging you in.

"Elijah," you whispered, reaching for him, running your hands down his chest, working on the buttons of his shirt. "Take this off."

He didn't move, just smiled and leaned down, his lips a hair's breadth from yours.

"What did you call me, sweetheart?" He whispered, his breath fanning over your face, his voice low and rough.

"Sorry, Daddy." You purred, arching your back and pressing yourself against him, letting him feel just how desperate you were for him.

His breath caught, a slight tremble going through him as his control began to slip. "There's my good girl," he groaned, kissing you, his lips soft and insistent, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you.

The feeling of his clothes against your naked body made you moan, your nipples pebbling as you tried to rub yourself against him.

He loved having you like this, desperate and begging, and you loved giving him that power. There was something about submitting to him, letting him use you however he wanted, that had you soaked in a way no other man could ever compare to.

You moaned into the kiss, gripping his shirt tighter, pulling him closer. He kissed you harder, deeper, his hand moving in-between your thighs, cupping your mound.

"So wet for me already," he whispered against your lips, his fingers brushing over your slit. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

You nodded eagerly, pushing against his hand.

He chuckled, his lips trailing along your jaw, his fingers teasing you, just barely slipping inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit.

"I want to show you something special," he murmured, nipping at your neck. His fingers dipped lower, circling your entrance, gathering up the slick dripping from you, spreading it over your clit. "Something your body can do, just for me."

"Please .. " You moaned, tilting your head back, giving him better access.

He hummed, his lips dragging over your throat, his fingers sliding back to your entrance, slipping inside of you.

He pulled back, his fingers curling, his thumb circling your clit, the pace slow and torturous. He found that special spongy spot inside you, pressing on it as he expertly played with your clit.

As Elijah’s fingers pressed harder against that sweet spot inside you, something deep within started to unravel, the pleasure building in a way that was almost unbearable. Your thighs began to shake, and your entire body tensed, on the verge of something more intense than you’d ever experienced before. You could feel it, a pressure mounting, threatening to spill over, but you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

You clung to his biceps, feeling his muscles flex under your fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to read every little movement and shift of your body. He loved the way you squirmed and moaned beneath him, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, the way your hips bucked as he worked his fingers faster.

The filthy, visceral sound of his fingers fucking into you was obscene, only serving to turn you on even more. You whimpered, feeling the heat pooling between your legs, the pleasure building higher and higher.

"Just relax," he murmured, his voice husky, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. "Let go for me."

You gasped, gripping his shirt, your thighs shaking. "Fuck... please..."

The tension snapped, and your hips bucked violently as the overwhelming release tore through you. It wasn't just a regular orgasm. You cried out as your body gave in completely, liquid rushing from you in a hot, sudden wave, soaking his hand, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you. The feeling was both foreign and liberating, like you’d lost all control, your body surrendering completely to his touch.

Elijah let out a soft groan, watching the pleasure wash over your features.

"So perfect," he whispered, leaning down and capturing your lips with his, swallowing the moans escaping your throat.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw, nipping at your neck. His fingers continued their relentless assault, drawing more liquid from you with each thrust, the wet, squelching sound echoing in the room.

"My gorgeous girl," he praised, his teeth grazing over your pulse.

The praise had you whimpering, your hips rocking against his hand, the friction driving you crazy. You were so close, the coil inside you ready to snap again, and Elijah knew it.

"Daddy... Please it's too much," you whined, feeling another orgasm quickly building.

He smiled against your skin, his fingers slowing.

"You can do it," he murmured, nuzzling your cheek. "One more for me, hmm? Show me what a good girl you can be."

The words had the tension snapping, your back arching as a second, powerful orgasm rushed through you, making you scream. Your hips rocked and writhed against his hand, another flood of liquid gushing out of you, drenching his hand, the bed, and your thighs.

"That's it, that's my girl." Elijah groaned, his eyes darkening as he watched the pleasure wash over your features.

You tugged hard on his shirt, wild and desperate to feel his skin against yours, wanting to hold him close. He seemed to sense your need, pulling his hand from you and moving to sit next to you.

You quickly pushed him onto his back, climbing onto him and straddling his hips, the heat between your legs pressed against the bulge straining against his slacks.

You ground against him, the feeling of the rough material against your sensitive clit sending a delicious spark of pleasure through you.

"Fuck... " He hissed, his hands moving to grip your hips, pulling you harder against him.

"Need you..." You whispered, leaning down and kissing him, your tongue darting into his mouth, tasting him.

You sat up, working on the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his warm, soft skin beneath your fingers. When his shirt was finally open, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his chest, the muscles rippling beneath his smooth skin, the light dusting of hair leading down into his slacks.

You bit your lip, tracing a finger over the trail, loving the way his muscles twitched and flexed beneath your touch. You reached his pants, fumbling with his belt, the metal clinking and the leather creaking as you tugged it free. You worked his slacks open, your hand delving into his briefs, pulling out his hard, throbbing cock.

You gripped his length, pumping him slowly, your thumb swiping over the tip, spreading the pre-cum leaking from him.

His hand covered yours, guiding you, showing you exactly how he liked it.

"So good," he groaned, his hips bucking, thrusting into your fist.

"Let me make you feel good, Daddy." You whispered, letting go of him and positioning yourself over his length.

You were still sensitive and sore, and the thought of taking him had your heart hammering in your chest. But the moment his tip was at your entrance, you couldn't help but sink down onto him, moaning at the delicious stretch of his thick length.

He sat up, his hands digging into your hips, helping you bounce on him.

"Just like that," he groaned, his voice strained, watching the way you moved above him. "You're such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

The praise sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but clench around him, the pressure building inside you.

"Yes, Daddy," you gasped, throwing your head back, losing yourself in the sensation. "Feels so good."

Your thighs were shaking from the effort, your muscles beginning to ache, but you couldn't stop. You needed him, needed this, needed the way he made you feel.

His eyes were fixed on you, watching the way your breasts bounced, your hips moving fluidly as you rode him, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He could tell you were close, your breathing ragged, your walls fluttering around him, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer either.

"Daddy ... " You whimpered, looking into his eyes, the desperation evident in your gaze.

"I've got you," he grunted, his grip tightening, moving your hips for you.

"Come for me, sweetheart."

The command was enough to send you over the edge, a powerful orgasm tearing through you, the pleasure nearly overwhelming.

"Good girl," Elijah murmured, pulling you against him and flipping you onto your back. He kissed you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he thrust into you, his movements slow and deep, dragging out your pleasure.

"So fucking beautiful," he groaned, breaking the kiss, his breath fanning over your lips.

"Want you to come," you whimpered, arching your back, pressing your breasts against him.

He growled, his hand moving to the bed beside your head, holding himself up. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours, his cock hitting that special spot inside of you, drawing a cry from your lips.

"Elijah!" You cried, another orgasm rushing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping.

He thrust into you once more, burying himself deep, his cock pulsing and twitching, spilling inside of you. He stilled, panting, resting his forehead against yours, his breath fanning over your cheeks.

You held him close, stroking his back, enjoying the weight of him on top of you. You felt like you were floating, the only thing tethering you to the earth was his weight on top of you. A soft giggle left your lips and he lifted his head to look at you.

"That was ... incredible." You said, still breathless.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his lips pressing soft kisses to your jaw.

"Did I do well, daddy?" You asked, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"You can't call me that outside of the bedroom," he chuckled, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"I won't, but it's fun to see how flustered you get," you teased, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Me flustered? You are the one who can barely say the word without blushing." He countered, a smug smile on his face.

"Whatever you say... Daddy," you purred, grinning at the way his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand sliding down and grabbing your ass, making you yelp.

"Naughty girl." He growled, his lips inches from yours.

You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close, keeping your bodies connected.

He eventually broke the kiss, a grin forming on his lips.

"What?" You asked, curious about his expression.

"I believe I owe you new sheets," he chuckled.

"I think we're going to need new everything," you replied, realizing the mess that was surrounding you.

"You can stay at my place tonight, my sheets are silk, and very very dry," he offered, his voice low and playful. "And my shower is big enough for two."

You blushed and buried your face in his chest, laughing softly and nodding your head. He was the perfect teacher and you couldn't wait to see what other lessons he had for you.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[animeyanderelover]

Hello, I heard that your request box is now open and have an idea for a yandere reaction for a few for the Naruto fandom.

Yk how Sasuke/Itachi Uchiha had fangirls when they were kids/in their teens? How would the yanderes feel when their S/O had groups of fangirls/fanboys, wanting to be their partner, giving them gifts, wanna be train together, etc. With Yandere Asura, Indra, Izuna, Temari and Neji?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, paranoia, stalking, threats, manipulation, abduction

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata

S/o has lots of fans

Otsutsuki Asura

🔳​Gosh, he is absolutely dying on the inside every single time your fans just swarm around you like bees around flowers. On the one hand Asura absolutely understands why you are so popular and beloved as he is in some way also a part of your fanclub but it is just so frustrating that he so rarely gets his chance to truly be left alone with you. There is a ton of competition as lots of people would love to be your significant other and he's not going to lie, his throat sometimes tightens when he sees all the gifts, the confessions and the affection you receive from others. He's always been labeled as the weak offspring who fails in comparison to his talented brother Indra and it is this gap in strength that will sometimes mess with him if this should be before he went on his father's quest in order for Hagoromo to figure out who the next head of the village should be. There are lots of other talented, kind and beautiful people in his village and Asura is humble enough to admit so himself. On the other hand it is also a sure way to motivate him to vie with your admirers for your adoration as he starts training harder, picks flowers for you on fields and tries to cook for you though he ends up burning a lot by accident.

🔳​His jealousy remains even once he finds himself in a relationship with you though he feels more secure by that point as he trusts his darling. If he's at that point already head of the village most people are probably going to respectfully step back though you probably still receive a lot of gifts and love letters. He takes it very well though, often likes to joke that you're probably more beloved than he is which he honestly wouldn't even mind since you are nothing short of amazing in his eyes. However, he doesn't like if someone ends up confessing to you and asking you to be their lover right in front of him. It's awkward and uncomfortable and only leaves him with the option to clear his throat as he tries to be mature only to very quickly end up arguing with the other person in a way very much reminiscent of a child with the way he pouts and whines. After such an encounter he always grows clingier and more affectionate, deeply upset that someone was bold enough to confess to you whilst fully knowing that you are already with him. Your popularity truly is a two-sided sword yet Asura refuses to revert back to being the same pathetic stalker he was in the past now that you're actually together with him-

Otsutsuki Indra

💜​Indra takes a very different approach than his brother as his patience is very thin and his possessive feelings for you very high. Once he has developed feelings for you he grows very quickly rather possessive over you and all of it is only sped up due to the adoration and love you're frequently showered with due to all of your silly admirers. This entire commotion is a waste of time in Indra's eyes as those people behave as if they were a sorry excuse of a circus trying to entertain you and gain your attention. On every single occasion Indra has made short work of them, always interfering their pathetic attempts to woo you and scaring them away with a scorching glare and equally searing threats before turning his wrath to you with a deep scowl on his face. Why would you even entertain such good-for-nothings? If any of them ever even dare to ask you to train with them he quickly shows them just how unfit they are to even consider such an outrageous thought, his opponents always left bloody by the end of it. At one point he starts claiming your entire time for himself, keeping you by his side and isolating you from others to calm his own burning possessive feelings down.

💜​After Hagoromo doesn't acknowledge him though that previous arrogance he always had turns into an inferno of paranoia and jealousy he did not possess before. Indra projects his hurt on you as he starts believing that you would abandon and leave him as well and it is that thought that drives him to abduct you. It is likely that he might also murder some of your most persistent admirers who've always gotten on his nerves the most, people who he actually somewhat acknowledged and for that now views as the biggest threats who may steal you from him. It is after the abduction that Indra at the very least finds some semblance of peace again as he knows that there are no fans anymore who could get on his nerves and it eases his possessive urges somewhat. Yet his ego has been forever damaged which leads to you having to be very delicate as Indra needs a long time to get over the shock of being betrayed by his father and his brother. Every time you defy him as well he lashes out, spits angry accusations that you probably miss being swooned over and being spoiled by those weaklings in the village. Too unfortunate for you though because he'll never let you go back.

Uchiha Izuna

🔹​For Izuna it will depend on whether your admirers are also Uchiha or not as he is someone who only believes in the good of his own clan which means that he would be much harsher and scarier with your fans if they should not belong to his clan. There will be only disrespect and intimidation as he would never allow his darling to choose anyone but him, especially if your other choice should be someone who is not an Uchiha. After all the young man is deep down quite a prideful warrior though he can be very charming and sweet around you as well. If your fans were to be Uchiha, Izuna is inclined to be more merciful though he still expects them to know their place, especially since he's the younger brother of Madara and one of the strongest fighters. Now, obviously the Uchiha feel quite intense which is why your admirers might be more persistent if they were to be of the same clan as he is, leading to potentially more conflict though Madara is going to fully support his younger brother once he's aware of Izuna's feelings. Sometimes there is a sense of satisfaction though knowing that you're so desired which would make it all the more satisfying once he claims you.

🔹​Once you are officially Izuna's darling he is going to be less tolerant of your admirers antics. Any gifts you receive he expects you to reject on the spot or throw away later. None of them are going to be kept and if you try to still keep them he is going to burn them before turning to you with a disappointed glare on his face. He's the only one whose gifts you are allowed to keep. One's ego can never be boosted enough though so it happens that Izuna takes you with him on a stroll through the streets simply to bask in the jealousy of the other people who can only silently murmur and glare at him with envy as his arm is wrapped around your waist. It is this jealousy that results in that smug look on his face, knowing that he managed to court you and make you his though you had so many other admirers. It's not always fun though, especially if someone still believes to have any chances with you even though you now belong to Izuna. In such cases you always know better, quickly stepping away from them to not displease Izuna all whilst said man is already busily glowering at them, irritated that they still don't understand. Perhaps they need a reminder of why he is the only choice for you.

Temari

🌪️​Temari is very much a no nonsense person so she is going to be irritated with your little fanclub long before she is even in a relationship with you. Temari isn't a very jealous person as she is a confident lady but it is very agitating to see the shinobi of her village courting you instead of training to get stronger. She wants the best of her village as she is aware that Sukunagakura didn't always have the best reputation amongst other villages and she is very determined to change that. So it isn't even jealousy but disappointment and frustrating anger that the shinobi who swore to protect the village now have nothing better to do than trailing behind you, swooning over you like fools and spending their money on presents instead of training to sharpen their skills. Worst of all is that you suffer from their infatuations as well, always stopped from training properly which is the point where Temari storms in like a hurricane and scolds all of them harshly for behaving in such an unsightly way. Her irritation even reaches you as she reprimands you for being too polite to your fans all the time instead of making your disinterest very clear as you instead gave them always hope.

🌪️​It is in an actual relationship that she gets more possessive. It's basic etiquette to respect it if someone is already in a relationship with another and it is then that she truly figures out who the true idiots are, too desperate to give up on you. She expects you to inform you as soon as anyone of them even dares to suggest that you could still choose them and leave her. She doesn't let Kankuro or Gaara help her, firm in her decision to deal with this problem herself as she is the one in a relationship with you and it is her job to protect you. She is more than capable of doing that in this situation. There is no kindness your admirers still going after you can expect from Temari either, her entire face an angry mask and her words brash and abrasive. Are they not ashamed of themselves? There is no respect given to those people, their display of desperation nothing short of pathetic and unfitting for the shinobi of the village. On some days she is in such little mood to deal with your fans that she asks of you to stay at home for the day. She is going to make sure that all of them learn their lession though. They can admire you but they cannot try to be your lover.

Hyuga Neji

🕊️​You absolutely deserve to be loved and cherished yet it isn't even the fact that you have fans but more the unsavory way that some of them behave that enrages Neji so much. They're loud, they scream your name and ignore your discomfort as they are pushy. Such people he finds himself actively despising the most and especially when he notices that you're uncomfortable does he get protective and scare them away with a stern glare and a few simple threats. Most of the time Neji is not jealous though as he would never view people with no behavior as rivals as they are nothing more than inconveniences he wishes to remove from your life. He doesn't mind those who show their admiration in more respectable ways by gifting you stuff though he observes such actions very closely as he makes shameless use of his Byakugan in such situations. His confidence remains largely intact though, secure in his knowledge that he is still going to love you better and treat you like you deserve to be treated. He prefers to do so in the Hyuga compound though where people who aren't part of the clan aren't allowed in unless with permission, giving him the chance to focus only on you and vice versa.

🕊️​The possessive urge to let your fans know that you are his sometimes gets the better of Neji even though he deems himself about such urges. Yet it can't be helped when he watches as they still try to capture your attention before he steps gracefully in, his hands holding yours as he presses a kiss against your forehead before white eyes glance at your fans with the silent but clear warning that you are his and that they should know their place. With his Byakugan he is able to easily avoid them as he guides you throuh Konoha and away from your fans yet he finds himself worried about the persistence some of them show which is why he starts keeping you more and more to himself in the Hyuga compound where their presence can't vex him as much as it would have outside of the district. It's in here that he truly feel like the two of you are finally in your own world where he can focus fully on you and you can do the same. It's not like Neji believes your fans to ever harm you but he fears that they might find you when he isn't there and make you uncomfortable without him being able to help you. It's this smothering worry that leads you to be isolated even though Neji only wants to do the best for you.

[moonselune]

oh nooo, tavs tent got flooded by rain ans now theyre forced to share a bed with someone! can i rq a one bed troupe with male tav with karlach, wyll, astarion, halsin?

oh noooo how could this happen??

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The storm rolled in unexpectedly, drenching the camp in a relentless downpour. You were still trying to salvage what you could when a deafening crack of thunder shook the ground, sending the rivers of rainwater cascading directly into your tent. By the time you managed to crawl out, sputtering and soaked, your belongings were hopelessly waterlogged.

Karlach, of course, was there to witness your predicament. She jogged over, her broad grin illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning.

“Rough night, huh, soldier?” she teased, shaking her head at the state of your tent.

You groaned, wringing out your shirt. “You could say that. Looks like I’m going to be sleeping under the stars tonight—well, under the rain, more like.”

“Nonsense!” Karlach’s voice was as warm as the heat radiating from her. She slapped a hand on your shoulder, the gesture surprisingly gentle. “You can bunk with me. My tent’s dry, and, uh, let’s just say I come with central heating.”

The thought made your stomach twist with equal parts relief and trepidation. Sharing a tent—no, a bed—with Karlach? The woman you’d been nursing an embarrassingly obvious crush on for weeks? Your throat went dry despite the rain drenching you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

She cut you off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll freeze to death out here otherwise. Let’s go.”

Her tent was modest but well-kept, and most importantly, dry. You hesitated at the entrance, dripping onto the canvas floor. Karlach turned, hands on her hips, and raised a brow.

“Get in here before you catch something, will ya?” She rummaged through her belongings, tossing a dry blanket your way. “Strip out of that wet stuff and wrap yourself up. I’ll, uh, look the other way if you’re shy.”

You managed a weak laugh, your heart thudding in your chest as you turned your back to her. Peeling off your soaked clothes felt awkward under her presence, even though she kept her word and busied herself adjusting the bedroll. Once you were as dry as you could get, you turned around, clutching the blanket like a shield.

Karlach motioned to the bedroll, sitting down and patting the spot beside her. “Come on. I don’t bite... unless you ask nicely.”

Her teasing tone was lighthearted, but it didn’t stop your face from burning as you awkwardly settled beside her. The proximity was unavoidable; the bedroll wasn’t made for two people. Your shoulder brushed against hers, and despite the chill of the rain, her warmth seeped through the thin blanket you shared.

“You’re shivering,” she said, her voice softening. “Hang on.”

Before you could protest, Karlach shifted closer, wrapping her arm around you. The heat from her infernal heart radiated through her skin, chasing away the chill almost instantly. It was overwhelming—comforting, yes, but also intensely intimate.

“You’re like a living furnace,” you muttered, trying to sound casual despite the way your pulse hammered in your ears.

She laughed, a sound that was equal parts amusement and kindness. “Perks of the infernal engine, huh? You should take advantage of it. No sense in freezing when you’ve got me around.”

The words were innocent enough, but the tension in the air was anything but. Every small movement felt magnified—the way her arm lingered around your shoulders, the way her breath tickled your neck when she laughed. You could swear she noticed your nervousness because her fingers gave your arm a small squeeze, grounding you.

For a while, you sat in companionable silence, the sound of the rain pattering against the tent mingling with the steady hum of Karlach’s warmth. But the tension remained, unspoken and heavy.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she said eventually, tilting her head to look at you. Her voice was low, almost hesitant.

“Just... thinking,” you managed, cursing yourself for how obvious your voice sounded.

Her brow furrowed, her expression softening. “You’re not still worried about being a bother, are you? Because if you are—”

“No!” you blurted, turning to face her. You realized too late how close you were, your noses almost brushing. Your voice caught in your throat, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Her gaze flicked between your eyes and your lips, something unspoken passing through her expression. But then she smiled—gentle, teasing, and yet somehow protective. “You’re really something, you know that?”

The moment stretched, and your heart thundered in your chest. You weren’t sure what would’ve happened if she hadn’t leaned back, breaking the tension.

“Get some sleep,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’ll keep you warm.”

As you lay down beside her, her arm still draped around you, you couldn’t help but think about how much you wanted to stay like this forever. It was comforting, yes, but it was also maddening—being so close to her, feeling her heat, and yet knowing the line between you remained unspoken.

But for now, you let yourself savor the moment, even if it left you yearning for something more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The storm came out of nowhere, drenching the camp in sheets of rain so thick you could barely see beyond your own hands. You’d thought your tent was secure, but the deluge proved you wrong. By the time you realized the rain was seeping in, it was too late—your bedroll was soaked, your belongings waterlogged. Swearing under your breath, you tried to salvage what you could, shivering in the cold.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion’s lilting voice rang out from the shadows, cutting through the sound of the rain. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

You turned to see him leaning against a nearby tree, his arms crossed, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. Despite the weather, he looked immaculate, as always, his pale skin almost glowing against the dark backdrop of the storm.

“My tent flooded,” you muttered, trying not to sound as miserable as you felt.

Astarion’s smirk widened as he sauntered closer, looking you up and down with a mockingly critical eye. “My, my, such a pitiful sight. You’re dripping like a wet dog. And here I thought you’d have more... dignity.”

You shot him a glare, though your teeth chattering probably undermined the effect. “Unless you’re here to help, Astarion, maybe keep walking.”

“Help?” He placed a hand dramatically on his chest, feigning offense. “Darling, I’m not in the business of charity. But... I suppose I could take pity on you, just this once. After all, I’m nothing if not magnanimous.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he drawled, leaning in closer, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief, “you’re welcome to my tent. Though, I must warn you, it comes with a price.”

“What price?”

He tapped a finger against his lips, pretending to think. “Hmm... let’s see. Enduring my company, for one. My delightful teasing, for another. And, of course, you’ll have to control yourself. Sharing close quarters with someone as devastatingly attractive as me? Quite the challenge, no?”

You flushed, heat creeping up your neck despite the cold. “I’ll manage.”

Astarion’s tent was—unsurprisingly—pristine. The interior was lit with a soft glow from a single lantern, casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls. His bedroll was luxurious compared to yours, layered with thick blankets and pillows that looked far too indulgent for a camp in the wilderness.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing grandly. “And by that, I mean don’t ruin anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious as you stepped inside. Your wet clothes clung to you, and you were acutely aware of every move you made. Astarion, of course, noticed.

“Oh, do take those off,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ll freeze otherwise, and I’m not about to have you shivering all over me all night.”

“I’m fine—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he interrupted, already digging through his belongings. He tossed you a dry shirt and a blanket. “Here. Change. I’ll avert my eyes, though it’s hardly necessary.”

Your face burned as you turned your back to him, peeling off your soaked clothes and quickly pulling on the shirt he’d given you. It was soft, and it smelled faintly of him—a mix of something earthy and rich, with a hint of sweetness.

When you turned back around, Astarion was already lounging on the bedroll, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a smug expression.

“You clean up nicely,” he remarked, patting the spot beside him. “Now, come along. Let’s get this over with before you catch your death.”

Reluctantly, you sat down, pulling the blanket over yourself. The space was tight, and you couldn’t avoid brushing against him as you lay down. His body was cool, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine—not from the cold, but from the unspoken tension that hung between you like a storm cloud.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Not really,” you muttered, though that was a lie.

He chuckled, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can feel your pulse racing, you know. Are you nervous, darling? Or is it just... me?”

You turned your head to glare at him, only to realize how close he was—his face mere inches from yours, his crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world outside the tent seemed to disappear.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “I’m only teasing. Mostly.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

Astarion grinned, his fangs catching the light. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Despite his teasing, he shifted slightly, giving you a bit more space. The tension between you remained, unspoken but palpable, as the rain continued to patter against the tent. It was both maddening and exhilarating, being so close to him, knowing he could probably hear every erratic beat of your heart.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with you. As you started to drift off, you felt him shift beside you, his voice a quiet murmur in the dark.

“Sleep well, darling,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere.

And despite everything—despite the teasing, the tension, and the racing thoughts that refused to quiet—you did.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The rain had started as a drizzle, an annoyance more than anything, but by midnight it had turned into a full-blown storm. You’d woken to the sound of water pooling under your bedroll, the fabric of your tent flapping wildly in the wind. It didn’t take long to realize your tent wasn’t holding up—water seeped in through every seam, soaking everything in its path.

Soaked and miserable, you stumbled into the camp’s common area, clutching your blanket and trying not to curse the heavens too loudly. That’s when Wyll, ever the gentleman, emerged from his own tent, lantern in hand.

“You look like a drowned rat,” he teased gently, his voice warm despite the storm.

“My tent flooded,” you muttered, feeling like a fool as you wrung out your blanket.

Wyll’s brow furrowed in concern, and he quickly stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You can’t stay out here in this. Come, share my tent. It’s dry, and there’s enough room for both of us.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“I insist,” Wyll interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’d never leave a friend out in this storm.”

Wyll’s tent was cozy, far better maintained than yours. The interior was neat and organized, his bedroll lined with extra blankets that gave it an almost luxurious appearance. A small lantern cast a warm glow, the storm muffled by the sturdy canvas walls.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to the bedroll. “You take the left side.”

You hesitated, feeling a little self-conscious as you stepped inside. Your clothes clung to you, damp and uncomfortable, and you were acutely aware of the unspoken tension between the two of you. Wyll had always been kind, always so composed, but there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second too long that made your heart race.

“You’re shivering,” he observed, pulling a dry blanket from his pack. “Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.”

You flushed, your mind immediately racing to places it shouldn’t. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your teeth were chattering.

Wyll raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. “Fine, is it? If you fall ill, it’s on my conscience. Here.” He turned his back, giving you privacy as he busied himself with the lantern. “I promise I won’t peek.”

Reluctantly, you stripped out of your wet clothes, replacing them with the spare shirt and pants Wyll handed you. The fabric was soft and warm, and it smelled of him—a subtle mix of cedarwood and something earthy, like freshly turned soil.

When you finally settled onto the bedroll, Wyll joined you, keeping a respectful distance. But the space was tight, and no matter how you tried to position yourself, you couldn’t avoid brushing against him.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

The storm raged on outside, but inside the tent, the air was thick with an entirely different kind of tension. You were hyper-aware of every little movement, every rustle of the blankets, every time his arm brushed against yours.

“You’re still shivering,” Wyll said after a moment.

“I’m fine—”

“You’re not,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “Here.” Before you could protest, he shifted closer, draping the blanket over both of you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Body heat. It’s the fastest way to warm up.”

Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. He was so close, his scent enveloping you, his touch sending shivers down your spine for an entirely different reason now. You were just glad you were facing away from him for less than gentlemanly reasons.

“Better?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice.

The minutes stretched on, the storm outside fading into the background as the tension between you grew. Every time his hand shifted against your shoulder, every time his breath brushed against your temple, it sent your thoughts spiraling.

At one point, you turned your head slightly, only to find his face inches from yours. His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, every unspoken feeling hovering just out of reach. Wyll was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and pulling back slightly.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice a little too even, as though he were trying to mask his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “Good idea.”

But sleep didn’t come easily. Not with the way his arm stayed draped over your shoulders, his warmth seeping into you, his presence so close it was almost overwhelming.

As the storm began to wane, the tension in the tent softened, replaced by a quiet comfort. And though neither of you said anything more, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wyll felt the same way you did—that unspoken pull, the lingering desire that neither of you dared to yet acknowledge.

For now, though, it was enough to simply be near him, the storm outside forgotten as you drifted off to the sound of his steady breathing, wrapped in his warm, strong arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The storm that swept through camp hit with an intensity no one had anticipated. Rain lashed against the tents, and your own—already a little worse for wear—didn’t stand a chance. You woke to water pooling around you, your belongings soaked, and your blankets utterly useless. Grumbling, you gathered what you could and sloshed through the camp to find somewhere dry.

Halsin’s tent stood out, sturdy and secure against the storm, its entrance softly illuminated by a warm glow. You hesitated for a moment before calling out.

“Halsin? You awake?”

The flap of the tent opened, revealing the towering figure of the druid, his expression immediately softening when he saw your drenched form. “Your tent couldn’t withstand the storm?”

“No,” you admitted, shivering slightly. “Do you mind if I...?”

“Of course,” he said with a reassuring smile, stepping aside to let you in.

Halsin’s tent was everything yours wasn’t: dry, spacious, and undeniably cozy. The thick pelts lining the floor and the earthy, woodsy scent made it feel like a sanctuary. The warmth inside hit you immediately, and you realized it wasn’t just from the well-insulated tent—it was Halsin himself. He radiated heat like a furnace, the air around him almost stiflingly warm.

“You can set your things over there,” he said, gesturing to a corner before kneeling to adjust the blankets on his bedroll. “And don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

You tried not to overthink that last part as you settled in, draping a dry blanket over your shoulders. But as the rain continued to hammer against the tent, the unspoken tension between you became almost palpable. You’d always felt a certain pull toward Halsin—his kindness, his strength, the way he carried himself with such quiet confidence. Sharing a space with him now, so close, was enough to make your heart race.

“Warm enough?” he asked, his voice low and soothing as he settled onto the bedroll beside you.

“More than enough,” you said, trying to sound casual, though the heat radiating from him felt almost overwhelming.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable at first but quickly giving way to that same tension. You couldn’t help but notice the way Halsin shifted slightly, as though trying to find a position that didn’t discomfort him. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked almost... uneasy.

“Is everything okay?” you asked softly, turning to face him. “If this is too much, I can—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, chuckling quietly. “It’s not that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. I just...” He hesitated, his cheeks darkening slightly, which was rare for someone so self-assured.

“What is it?” you pressed, your curiosity piqued. Halsin exhaled a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not used to sleeping with clothes on,” he admitted, his voice laced with amusement but also honesty. “It’s a little... restrictive.”

You blinked, his words sinking in as your mind instantly spiraled into dangerous territory.

“Oh,” you managed, your voice embarrassingly high-pitched with a voice crack that could rival teenage you.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t...” he started, but you quickly shook your head.

“No, it’s fine! I mean, you should be comfortable,” you said, your words tumbling over each other in your attempt to sound unaffected.

Halsin gave you a knowing smile, his eyes glinting with that same warmth that seemed to envelop the entire tent. “You’re kind to say so, but I think I’ll manage for one night.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you’d regret. The unspoken tension thickened as the storm continued to rage outside, the sound of the rain mingling with the steady rhythm of Halsin’s breathing.

The heat he radiated wasn’t just physical—it was in the way his presence seemed to fill the space, in the way his voice lingered in the air, deep and comforting. You found yourself hyper-aware of every movement, every shift of the blankets, every time his arm brushed against yours.

“Try to rest,” Halsin murmured, his voice low and velvety. “The storm will pass by morning.”

You nodded again, lying back and trying to focus on anything but the warmth of his body so close to yours, or the way your heart seemed to pound louder with each passing second.

And though sleep didn’t come easily, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude for the storm that had brought you here, to this moment, even if it left you feeling like you were on the edge of something both thrilling and terrifying.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so fun to write, it came out more gn, but i did my best to do allusions that it was a male tav. Hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"

[five-and-dimes]

Sunbeam

Part 1 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo Adoptable prompt: Cat Ears

Rating: M

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort

Summary: King of the cow Kingdom, Hob is given a cat person as a warprize, and he'd give him the very sun if he could. But perhaps some sunbeams will be good enough.

Read on AO3

It takes a village to make an au like this- It all started on our fav @gabessquishytum 's blog (specifically these posts), plus a lot of inspo from discord, and Hob's design based on the amazing art of @amielot. Thanks for feeding my obsession with this au, friends! 🤘

~~~

By the time Hob makes it back to his room, finally released from a dull morning council meeting, it is nearly afternoon. And Dream is kneeling on the floor.

It’s been a little over a week since King Hob was gifted the cat person now staying in his private chambers. When Dream had been presented to him, Hob remembers feeling a mix of emotions- rage and sorrow and confusion and offense. The bovine kingdom did not trade in people. 

(Not anymore.)

He had wanted to refuse the ‘gift’ out of principle. But he had looked down at the wounded, far too thin creature in front of him and knew immediately that he could not let him go back with his captors. So he had accepted the offering with the minimal amount of politeness to not start a war. He had beckoned the cat to him, and learned that his name was Dream, and that he was too weak to make it up the stairs to Hob’s room. His body was withered and wasted, starved and neglected, even a short walk leaving him panting and shaking. Hob had waved the guards away and lifted him up into his own arms to carry him the rest of the way.

Dream had trembled against him, no matter how Hob tried to reassure him. Part of him still wonders if it was a mistake to bring the poor man into Hob’s own chambers, to lay him on his own soft bed when his fears were so obvious. But Hob could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and scared in some strange room in the palace. In truth, he wanted desperately to care for him himself. Some part of his heart had been given to the cat the moment Hob saw him, and he was determined to see him healed. 

The first night was hard, and Dream continued shivering even as he drank from Hob’s chest, falling into a fitful sleep in Hob’s bed after being tugged away guiltily to ensure he didn’t make himself sick drinking too much too fast. In the days since, Hob has left him in his room as he went about his business throughout the day, returning to check on him and feed him, and always finding him in the exact spot on the bed where he left him. Until today.

It had been raining for much of the week, but today the sun was streaming through the open windows, the light falling vibrantly across the floor in the center of the bedroom. Dream was crouched at the edge of the thick rug placed beneath the bed, reaching one long arm out to dip just the very tips of his fingers into the light, his face full of equal parts longing and trepidation. 

It is a look Hob remembers on his own face when he was a young calf, sneaking into his mother’s study and standing on the tips of his hooves to admire her golden collar and bell. He would tap it, giggling at the heavy chime, feeling mischievous as he imagined a day in the future when the beautiful adornment would be passed on to him. He also recalls getting caught, his mother admonishing him sternly yet fondly, and the way he never once felt fear of her.

He put his grimly little child’s hands all over literal gold, and he never felt anywhere near the blatant terror he sees now on Dream’s face at being caught reaching for a sunbeam.

“I apologize, my lord,” Dream scrambled frantically back onto the bed, folding his limbs to kneel and forcing his hands to release his robe, laying them in his lap meekly. It broke Hob’s heart every time, the way he so clearly wanted to hold the robe closed around his body and just as clearly expected it to be torn away from him.

He had been given to Hob naked.

The robe he wore now was meant for a calf, too short and too wide and still the best fit they could find for the cat until the tailors finished the custom robe they were working on. Dream had been near tears when he was presented with something to cover himself, bowing his head and offering anything and everything of himself in thanks. So grateful. All for a robe that didn’t even fit.

Hob approached the bed slowly, smiling gently even when he wanted to cry for the poor creature, “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Dream shivered, keeping his gaze downcast, “I should not have moved without your permission, master.” 

Hob flinched at the title. As king he was accustomed to being referred to as lord and sire and majesty- it was only appropriate, and he did expect to be given the respect due his station. But he was no one’s master.

Right now though, he had to choose his battles. “You are free to move about the room, Dream,” it was true that Dream clearly needed rest, but his heart ached to think of Dream sitting stiffly wherever Hob ‘put him’. He turned and gestured at the sunlit spot, “You may even move some of the pillows or blankets from the bed, should you wish to lay in the sun.”

Dream looks horrified at the very idea, ears pinned back in fear, “I would never, sire,” his voice nearly pleading for Hob to believe him, as though he is being tested.

Hob feels his own ears droop, before straightening with resolve. He keeps his motions clear, walking to the bed to gather an armful of pillows. Dream keeps his head down, but his eyes follow Hob’s movements as he begins arranging the pillows on the floor where the sunlight is hitting. He adds a few blankets to the pile too, until he has a little nest in the middle of the room, soft and sunlit. 

Dream still hasn’t moved.

“Come here, Love,” Hob keeps his voice soft and soothing, but Dream still tenses when Hob scoops him up into his arms easily, so frighteningly light, “You must be hungry. Breakfast feels like ages ago.”

As much as Hob wishes he could sustain Dream with his milk alone, they had begun introducing some light foods- small morsels of fish, and select vegetables that the royal librarian deemed safe for cat people- into his breakfast and dinner. In between though, Hob fed him himself. Hob was used to being responsible for an entire kingdom, to making decisions that were far and long lasting and praying that he might make his country even a little bit better each day. And he was proud of his position, he would not trade it for anything. But there was something so special about being able to hold this one person in his arms and see the good he was doing. 

It still took some encouragement. As he settles into the nest, leaning back against the pillows and facing the window so that Dream can sit in his lap in the direct sunlight, Dream is still tense and trembling. Hob shushes him gently, slipping his shirt over his head before placing one hand at the back of Dream’s head to guide him to his chest. He remembers how confused Dream had been the first night when Hob had fed him, opening his mouth wide like he might for a different part of Hob’s body, unsure of what was expected of him. He had allowed himself to be maneuvered without any resistance until Hob was finally able to get a few drops of milk onto his tongue. He had watched as Dream’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating as he licked his lips in something like disbelief. 

After that it was a little easier. He is still nervous and hesitant, but Hob is able to press his mouth to his nipple and say, “Drink,” softly, more of a request than an order even if Dream does not yet recognize it as such. Hob shivers at the sensation as Dream begins to suckle, biting his lip to hold back a groan. He turns his gaze up to the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensation. Dream shifts in his lap and Hob has to mentally recite every trade detail he’d been given at his morning meeting in order to restrain himself from moving his hips.

The first night, Dream had looked so resigned when he finally noticed the hard prick in the lap he was sitting on. Hob had just pushed him back, not wanting him to throw up what was most likely the first substantial meal he’d had in who knows how long. He had looked so sorrowful, gazing longingly at Hob’s chest, and then he leaned back and gasped, Hob’s cock hard and hot against his hip. 

He had seemed to wilt, any relaxation Hob had coaxed from feeding him vanished, and he spoke like he was reciting a script, “How shall I repay you, master?”

Hob had felt his blood run cold at the title, “There is nothing to repay, sweet one,” he promised, his smile more of a grimace. Dream had stared at him in blatant disbelief, and as much as Hob wanted to keep holding him, he knew his body’s response was not helping the situation. So he had moved Dream off his lap, tucked him under the bed covers to sleep off his meal, and then gone and taken a long bath to take care of the problem.

It is a routine he has kept ever since. Dream no longer asks what Hob wants in return, though he still looks at him expectantly, and Hob smiles and pets him and then excuses himself to the bath to spend as much time as he needs pleasuring himself. And if he spends that time imagining the soft pads of Dream’s hands, or his sandpaper tongue, or the few glimpses he’s gotten of Dream’s enticingly barbed cock, well, no one needs to know.

Glancing back down at the cat in his arms, Hob is drawn now to Dream’s ears. His own are soft, yes, but they are also thick and sturdy. Dream’s are so thin. Even with the blackness of his fur, the sun seems to shine through at the very tips, a soft glowing pink with little veins just barely visible. Almost without thinking, Hob moves the hand on the back of Dream’s head to lightly grip one ear between his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Dream startles, a frightened chirp escaping him as he releases Hob’s teat. 

“Shhh,” Hob soothes, nudging Dream back towards his nipple, “It’s alright, you can have some more.” He has to be careful not to let Dream make himself sick, he had been warned by the palace physician what to look out for, but they were nowhere near that point yet. Dream shyly begins suckling again, eyes glancing up at Hob through his eyelashes for approval. “Good boy,” Hob praises, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut, relaxing minutely.

In his hand, he runs his thumb across Dream’s ear. So soft, so delicate and paper thin. He feels a strange compulsion to put it in his mouth. Not to bite, like he did with his playmates growing up- Dream feels too frail for that sort of roughhousing, and Hob does not ever want to hurt him. 

No, he wants to hold his silky ear in his mouth like a delicacy, wants to lick and suck at it as gently as Dream does to his teat until the gossamer fur is wet and warm from his tongue.

For now, he settles for simply rubbing the skin between his fingers, stroking the velvet softness in a feeble attempt to distract himself from his own lust. Eventually, too soon for his or Dream’s liking but in accordance with the doctor, Hob must gently push Dream away, his chest feeling emptier and yet still too full. All he wants is to feed Dream until he is fully sated. It hurts that, for now, he cannot.

Dream has become more accustomed to the routine, and so his whimper is nearly inaudible when leans back in Hob’s lap. Hob can feel the way his ears go from lax contentment to physically pressed down, tense and flat against his head. Or trying to be, at least, in the case of the ear still in Hob’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob coos, “I know you want more, just have to wait a couple hours, Love.”

“You have been more than generous, master,” Dream replied shakily, and Hob suddenly realizes that he does not want to run away to sequester himself in the baths. 

At the moment, his body is not betraying him, at least not so much that his robes do not hide it. And so he shushes Dream again and turns him in his lap, easy as a doll, until they are both facing the window. He nestles Dream between his thighs, bracketing him between thick, warm fur and tugging him to lean back against the softness of his belly. He feels Dream’s breath hitch as he brings his free hand around to rest softly on the subtle swell of his stomach. 

“Relax,” Hob whispered, one hand on his ear while the other rubbed his stomach soothingly, helping encourage his starved body to digest the meal it’s been given, “Just relax.”

As he strokes Dream’s trembling belly and pets his ear, Hob cannot help but tilt his face into the sun. He thinks perhaps he has taken this warmth and light for granted. How many times has he awoken and scowled at the light streaming across his bed? How often has he walked past these sunbeams, stepped across the warm fibers of his extravagant rug, and not even spared them a glance? Now, feeling his body warm- feeling Dream’s body warm- in the glowing light, he feels a pang of regret that he has not appreciated this simple pleasure before.

Well, he is appreciating it now. He smiles to himself as he feels Dream slowly relax under his ministrations, body melting back against him and sinking into Hob’s abundant, pillowy flesh. Hob thinks that if he could, he would keep Dream here, surrounded by his body, soft and warm, forever. 

Maybe he can’t hold him forever, but he can hold him now. And maybe it is too soon to mouth at Dream’s silky ears and press his tongue to them like a salt lick, but he allows himself to press a fleeting kiss to the one in his hand. 

Dream doesn’t flinch. And that is more than enough for now.

[afyrian]

☀️🏠 + post brazil shoyo please !! any format

hope uve been good <3 waited on the event since u posted about it im so excited to see what u write

sunburn soulmates hinata shoyo x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: sunburn + next door neighbor word count: 720 warnings: sunburns masterlist

   rapid knocking rattles the paintings by your front door, your apartment walls thin and weak. your eyebrows furrow curiously at the extreme noise. it takes you a few seconds, but you can recognize the rapid knocking, the heaviness of each knock attributed to one person. it has the same melody every time, even if it’s unintentional on his behalf. 

  you shake your head, smiling to yourself, wondering what your next door neighbor needed. tying the string within your shorts a little tighter, you open the front door, eyes peering at the man in front of you. there your neighbor stands, his skin a deep pink color and some tan lines around his eyes, "shoyo? what happened?"

  the obvious answer pops into your head, but with how burnt he is, it's hard to wonder how this could've happened to him, "we had some beach volleyball games today. do you think you could help me with some aloe vera?"

  "sho.. this looks terrible!" you bring your hand up to your cheek, covering some of your mouth as you shake your head, "i mean i can help, but shoyo this is absolutely terrible! and dangerous, gosh you really have to worry about this kind of stuff!"

  he waddles into your apartment, careful not to bump anything in the fear of feeling the painful sting. you purse your lips as you watch him make his way over to your couch, sitting on your floor in front of it. very rarely has he come over for help like this. however, in those few times, you still found yourselves giving it a certain routine. his legs are crossed, waiting patiently for your help.

  following him over, he hands the bottle of aloe vera to you, it nearly empty from his accidental burns. "your concerns are absolutely valid! we were just out for so long and forgot to check the time," shoyo frowns away from you, yet you feel like you can hear it in his voice. 

  even if neither of you have said it, he always feel bad whenever you worry for him. the anxiety in his heart building equally with yours, not for his own health, but for you. for the stress that he unintentionally causes within you. 

  "next time set a reminder or an alarm or something!! doctor's orders," you dump some of the aloe vera into your hand, stamping it onto his back in different places, trying to get it spaced evenly.

  "ma'am yes ma'am, i'll even call you every time i reapply just so it keeps me accountable," he looks back at you, wincing a little as his neck twists with his head, a smile still somehow making its way to his face, "if you're okay with that, that is."

  you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning forward to spread it across his back. he turns back around before he can see it, unable to see your reaction. however, he can tell that you won't say to no to him, not in a million years you'd say no to him. and he's correct, you mentally preparing yourself to take him off of do not disturb. 

  "yeah it is, you know it is sho. besides, i like having you as my neighbor. you're dependable, kind hearted," you run your hands up his neck, just barely feeling the short hairs right under his hairline. 

  goosebumps run up his back and you can see him shiver a little. the aloe vera creates a cool coating on his skin, rivaling that of the heat that the sun added to his epidermis. "you do? well then i'll have to stick around for a little while longer. plus it seems that msby black jackals is looking for players," he mentions, indicating that he wouldn't be moving back to argentina anytime soon. 

 "you'd stay for little old me?" you question, running your hands down his sides, nearly finished covering his back with aloe vera. 

  "yeah, yeah, i'd stay for little ol’ you," he turns to look at you, unaware of how close you are to him now, nearly off the couch as you lean forward. 

  you stare into his brown eyes, unable to look away from them. there's always been something about your next door neighbor that you couldn't quite escape. particularly the love that he feels for you.

a/n: i’ve been great!! thanks for this prompt, i loved it <33 and i hope i did your idea justice!

[kasagia]

My love will never die

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x moon summoner! reader Summary: You knew Aleksander before he was a Black Heretic, a foldmaker. You married him and promised to be by his side through thick and thin. And you never, ever regretted your choice. However, one day, your paths parted in an unfortunate way, and you both believed that the love of your lives was gone forever. After many centuries, you meet again with a man very similar to your Aleksander. And you start to wonder... maybe your love never die after all? Warning(s): ANGST, de@th mention, the reader yearns for Aleksander, and Aleksander yearns for the reader :c I USED FRAGMENT OF THE SONG "Jeg Saler Min Ganger" FROM THE SERIES "LOKI" Nonsense from me: So this is request from @morrigan-crowmwell Thank you so much, I was super excited to write this! I hope this is more or less what you asked for and that you like it.♡♡ I'm sorry it took me soooo long! ♡♡ Word count: 13k

"Aleksander Morozova! You'll be late to meet your mother!" you squealed as he stole another long kiss from you. "We don't have time for this, Sasha." you moaned, when he moved his lips to your sensitive neck.

"Nonsense… I always have time to properly say goodbye to my wife before I leave." he murmured against your skin, sucking on your weak spot behind your ear. He smiled slyly, hearing the sweet moan coming from your red lips, swollen from kissing.

Saints, he could stay in your arms for the rest of eternity.

"As much as your wife loves your goodbyes, she'd rather her mother-in-law didn't wander in the middle of one, looking for her spoiled son."

"This is how you say goodbye to your husband, lapushka? Calling him spoiled and hurting his feelings?" he asked indignantly, hovering over his beautiful wife and looking at her intently. He wanted to burn the view below him into his mind until he was back in her arms again.

"I have been "goodbye-ing" you for three hours, Aleksander. Don't you think that's enough for a 4 day trip?"

"I need at least one more hour to enjoy you." he murmured, placing more kisses on your already-marked neck.

"If Baghra finds us…" you moaned as he bit your neck gently, effectively silencing you, and got out of your head all the reasons why he should go now.

"It would be helpful if you would stop thinking about my mother while I try to kiss every inch of your gorgeous skin. Besides, don't worry about her. She likes you—sometimes even more than her own son, I have to admit. If anything, she'll blame me."

"Don't worry, sobachka (puppy), you'll always be my favourite." you smirked, flipping him onto the mattress of your bed and straddling him, marking his skin with your lips, making sure you'd give him back the same favour.

"I thought we didn't have time for this?" he purred meanly, pleased with your attention.

"Shut up and kiss me, Sasha." you demanded with an equally malicious gleam in your eyes, knowing full well how this would end. Bagra was right. You had him wrapped around your little finger. Which was good considering how many female Grishas wanted to catch his eye.

"As you wish, milaya." without a second's hesitation, he grabbed your cheek and pulled you into a kiss, pinning you back under him on the mattress.

Disappointment, as usual, overtook you after waking up from this beautiful dream. During those few centuries, flashbacks about HIM only became more frequent. Someone should hang that fool who said time heals all wounds. In your case, it only made it worse.

You'd give anything to go back a few hundred years and not let him go alone with his mother on this trip. You didn't even remember why they went to Aleksander's sister.

You had a vague memory of that day, only remembering the morning with your husband and the fragments of the Fjerdans' attack on your village.

But the moment you found out you were a moon summoner will forever be etched deep in your memories.

You helped your best friend's family and herself escape when the men attacked you. You defended yourself using all the tricks and attacks Alexander had taught you, but it wasn't enough against a band of trained soldiers.

Just as he was about to slash his sword at you, you felt heat radiating deep from your chest. You screamed, falling to your knees as light began to emit from you, blinding some soldiers and killing those close to you. The first time you've used the cut and your power.

You escaped with your friend and her brother - the last survivors, and hid in the city, pretending to be siblings who managed to survive the great fire caused by Grisha.

It was hard to pretend to hate your own people and even harder to hide your new powers. But the hardest thing was going through all this without Aleksander by your side.

You tried to contact him, search in every possible way. But the world was different back then. Your attempts in advance were doomed to failure. And you knew it. But your stupid heart made you search for your husband until the end.

And you did. Until the news of the Black Heretic, the shadow summoner, who died while creating the fold, spread across the world.

You mourned Aleksander for a long time. Your life went on, but the wound of losing your husband never healed. And you knew it wouldn't. He was your great, true love. Your end game. It was impossible to let him go, to make place in your heart for someone new.

Time passed, and everything around you slowly changed. Except you. Your friends got old, grey, and wrinkled. And you remained the same as those decades ago. Then you discovered your second curse. You were immortal.

You and Aleksander could have lived together forever if not for Shu Han's and Fjerda's people.

It was the time when you vowed to finish Aleksander's work at any cost. His sacrifice will not be in vain. You were supposed to build a Ravka safe for the Grishas. All you needed was a sun and shadow summoner.

So you waited. At any sign of the sun summoner's presence. You knew Aleksander's lineage was fine. People often spoke of the descendants of the Black Heretic. You've never come close to them. You didn't want to relive the pain that would be associated with being with a member of his family. Aleksander had no children, but his sister probably did; maybe even Baghra found someone - you weren't sure about the old woman's fate.

The past centuries have not been kind to you. But this month was fruitful in terms of good news. The sun summoner has been found, the king of Ravka was ill, and your men were on the trail of Morozova's deer.

And that's how you were on your way to meet Alina Starkov and the descendant of the Morozovas, General Kirigan.

You were supposed to change the world together - in memory of your Aleksander.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander had never been in such a hurry to get home before.

He was so desperate to have you in his arms again that he even ignored all of his mother's taunts, remarks, and other snide comments. All that mattered to him now was coming home to you.

That's why he bravely endured his mother's teasing remarks as they rode horseback towards your cottage.

He was excited, only moments away from returning to the love of his life.

He missed you more than he dared admit to anyone. And he was a little ashamed of how an ordinary woman without Grisha's powers, like you, could have such power over him.

NO. You were not ordinary. You were his wife, friend, lover, support, rock, asylum, home. The only one to whom he entrusted his heart and soul voluntarily and without the slightest hesitation.

And with this gift his sister gave him, Aleksander will make sure you stay with him forever. That you'll live as long as he does. Neither of them, nor he, Baghra, nor his sister knew if this "gift" would work.

But Aleksander would be damned if he didn't try to keep you in his arms forever.

It didn't matter how many times he failed, trying to make you his equal, trying to turn you into a Grisha with similar powers to his. He was ready to do everything for you.

Aleksander sped up seeing your house. In his haste, he didn't even notice that he had lost his mother and that the scenery around him seemed to be getting darker and more frightening.

He practically leapt off his horse and raced to the door, opening it and rushing inside as fast as he could.

"Y/N?! Sweetheart, I'm home!" he shouted, expecting that as soon as you heard his voice, you would come running, throwing yourself into his arms.

But he was greeted by nothing but a terrible, deadly silence.

The scattered things in the corridor made him slightly anxious, but he dismissed his dark thoughts by saying that you were a little mess. However, after he still didn't hear any response from you, he started to worry.

He entered the living room only to find shattered furniture, an overturned bookshelf, and a broken window.

He panicked. He went mad with fear, screaming your name and running around the house like crazy, looking for you or any clues to where you might have run away.

His heart stopped when he found your battered body under an overturned wardrobe.

In the blink of an eye, he got you out from under the furniture and took you in his arms, trying to bring you back to consciousness.

"Y/N, please, Y/N, open your eyes! You can't leave me, not like that! Y/N! My sweet wife, my heart, please open your eyes!" he was shaking you in panic, begging all the saints to prove his dark suppositions wrong.

"Aleksander?" your quiet, tearful whisper both relieved him and broke his heart.

You lived. He hasn't lost you yet.

NO.

He couldn't lose you. He has to take you to the healer.

"Yes, love, it's me. Everything is fine now. I got you. Just stay with me until I get a help."

"You promised to protect me... why didn't you protect me, Aleksander? Have you stopped loving me?" your desperate whimper tore his soul in half. He began to shake all over, despising the feeling of helplessness and distress that had completely taken over him.

"What? No, I'll always love only you..." he felt your body suddenly go limp in his arms. He gripped your shoulders even tighter, shaking you in his panic attack. "Y/N? Y/N?! Y/N open your eyes! Y/N no! Don't leave me! Darling, no!" he screamed desperately in pain, burying his head in your hair and crying as he knelt on the floor and rocked with your cold body in his arms.

~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander sprang from his bed.

The general was breathing fast, trying to calm himself after another nightmare involving you.

His beautiful wife. His epic love.

For hundreds of years, the day he lost the only love of his life played out in his nightmares in different ways. This time, his subconscious was kind enough to let him talk to you for a while. Usually, he finds your body either impaled or dismembered. He never managed to save you. With none of those dreams.

His dreams might have macabred the events of that day, but he had never, in all those hundreds of years of his life, forgotten what really happened. He has not forgotten the grief, anger, sadness, and despair that overcame him when he and Baghra found their village burned to the ground without any trace of you.

Despite his search, he still didn't know what really happened to you, and he doubted he'd ever find out the truth. If all this had happened a few years later, if he hadn't been a boy just discovering the true power growing within him then, but the man he is now, you'd never despair like that. You'd never leave him to mourn over the future you two could have if only he was more powerful.

He was trying to fool himself. Telling himself that if you survived, you would have lived a much better life than you'd lived with him by your side. What could he have given you, then? An uncertain future, living in hiding, being hunted by the king's men? You were worth much more. You were worth all the jewels and treasures of this land, safety, peace, family, and happiness. Aleksander couldn't give you that. Not then.

He couldn't remember how many sleepless nights he'd spent wishing he could meet you now, to have you by his side, when he was this powerful man who could look after you properly, who would throw the world at your feet or burn it to the ground, depending on your humour.

But every time the sun came up and he had to continue playing his new role, the bitter reality made him realise that he would never have you again. He will never feel your soft skin under his fingers again, never lose himself in those beautiful, mesmerising irises, never run his hand through your hair, never take in your wonderful, intoxicating scent, and never taste your alluring, feisty lips again.

He was alone. And he will be until the end.

Until he widens the fold and makes sure no more Grisha dies at the hands of common otkazat'sya. That none of his people will repeat your fate.

He was supposed to change the world - in memory of his Y/N.

And then, maybe fate will be kind enough to reunite him with his beloved wife on the other side.

~•♤♤♤•~

Alina Starkov was a pain in the ass.

It took the girl only 15 minutes to run away from Kirigan's Grishas and get herself into trouble. She has damn luck that you decided to follow her and rescue her sunny ass.

You disappeared as soon as you made eye contact with her after you burned the Fjerdans with your pale, white light.

You wandered through the forest, cursing under your breath at the carelessness of both sun and shadow summoners. You didn't know which was worse, the impetuous girl or the thoughtless general who just let her get away.

With helpers like that, you'll have to work twice as hard to make the fold bigger. Fate really had no mercy on you.

You stood by the river, sighing in relief as you washed the blood from your face with cold water.

Your moment of peace didn't last long, however. You sensed an additional presence—someone creeping towards you. You took out one of your daggers and braced yourself for an attack.

But the moment you turned to face your opponent, you froze.

Aleksander...

He was standing in front of you. In a black kefta, a man so like your husband that just looking at him hurts you more than any blade could. This gaze, this face, were hunting you each night, every time you closed your eyes. And now he was standing right before you.

And the worst of it all was that it wasn't your Aleksander.

Only his descendant looking just like him. A shell that resembles the only man you've ever loved.

In your rage, you attacked him first, taking out your anger on him for the saints for continuing to play you mercilessly by putting your husband's doppelgänger in your way.

But Kirigan did not give up so easily. As soon as you moved towards him, he too snapped out of his strange daze and drew his dagger as well. The clang of metal echoed across the clearing as you both tried to find the other's weak spot. Oddly enough, you both did it at the same time.

"Put that down and I'll consider whether or not to spare your life." he growled, holding your arm in a tight grip as he felt your nails digging through the skin on his hand.

"Femoral artery. You'll bleed out faster than me." you replied with a malicious smirk, ignoring his threats.

"Who are you?"

"My mother taught me better than to make friends with the stranger freak in the forest, sir. Especially when they have a dagger dangerously close to my back." you kicked him, pushing him away from you, and attacked again. The clanking of steel against each other echoed across the clearing as your daggers met halfway. You growled in frustration, pushing him away.

"Your mother should teach you not to attack everyone you meet. You may encounter someone much stronger than you." Kirigan recovered faster this time, storming at you.

You ended up in a rather uncomfortable position as you held the steel against his heart and he wrapped his arm halfway around you, pulling you close. You didn't know if you were more dissatisfied with the metal digging into your chest or with his hands on you.

"And yours that you shouldn't raise a hand against a woman. I guess they both failed."

Did you both just say the exact same thing when you first met your husband? Yes.

Will he get lenient treatment from you just because he looks like your Aleksander? Absolutely fucking no.

Taking advantage of his moment of inattention as he stared at you distractedly, you pulled out the second hidden dagger and placed it against his neck. You tried to push his hand away from you, but the man, feeling the extra-cold blade against his skin, woke up from his trance and grabbed your left hand aggressively.

He moved your blade away from his neck and pinned you to the tree, slamming your left hand hard against the trunk, making the weapon fly out of your hand and bury itself in the ground near his foot.

Kirigan pressed his dagger to your side, leaning closer to you. He stared intently into your eyes, and for a brief moment you saw longing flicker in his dark eyes, which then gave way to rage and frustration, equal to the one that exploded inside you the moment you saw him. The moment you noticed that saints still played cruel with you by creating someone so damn similar to your husband.

He has no right to have the same face and eyes as your lost love.

"What. Are. You?" he asked, pausing on each word to intimidate you and bring his face closer to yours. But you didn't care much. You have hundreds of years; nothing, especially the doppelgänger of the man you love, could scare you.

You stared at each other with hostile eyes, and for some reason (other than your dagger at his thigh), he had some sort of hatred for you as well. So much so that he didn't notice how your powers reached for each other where your skin touched.

Strangely, it felt familiar to you. HE felt familiar.

You stared into each other's eyes as you unknowingly leaned in closer. You were about to try to break free from his grip when a sudden snap of branches caught your attention.

"That's you! She saved me from the Frejdans, sir." Alina's voice pulled him out of this strange moment between you two.

You wanted to find a sun summoner. You spent several hundred years on this, but the girl had hellishly bad timing.

Kirigan moved away from you, but you both continued to aim your daggers at each other, not trusting each other for a moment. Even though Alina just admitted that you saved her life.

"Why did you do that?"

"Someone so powerful like you should recognise when they stand before their equal, general Kirigan." you sneered, glancing for a moment at the woman standing next to both of you. Fortunately, nothing happened to her. She had a few scratches, but nothing that even the most ordinary medic couldn't heal.

"And how exactly are we equal?"

You smirked mischievously as you slipped the dagger into your sheath.

You linked your hands, focusing on the warm feeling of your light coursing through your veins, and without taking your eyes off the general's, you pulled them apart, revealing a thread of white light. You spread your arms wider, causing the rays to illuminate the clearing around you.

They both stared at you in amazement as your light turned into stars, which then arranged themselves into constellations. Figures of saints ran around you until you flicked your wrist to make them disappear.

"Melinoe Petrova. Moon Summoner. I think the three of us are going to change the world together."

You watched the speechless Alina with satisfaction, but your smile faded as you shifted your gaze to Kirigan. You had some difficulty reading him, but even more so understanding the longing in his eyes.

It seems your problems with a shadowman have only just begun…

~•♤♤♤•~

Kirigan didn't trust you.

You weren't surprised by it, but you hoped it would be easier for you to manipulate him. Apparently, the descendant of Aleksander inherited family cunning and distrust.

It's been a month since your little encounter (and fight) in the woods. In the meantime, you've been living in the Little Palace with the other Grishas; you met the king and got your own fancy kefta.

Black kefta. With moons, stars, and so on.

You wouldn't care about the colour of the fabric if it didn't turn out that only Kirigan wore one. Bloody Alina was the first to find Genya and get herself a blue one. So you stayed in your black kefta, pretending the general wasn't trying to mark you as his property.

But the son of a bitch liked your look in his colours too much for you to accept it.

It didn't help that he was too much like your Aleksander, either. Many times you've held back from taunting, making snide comments, or yelling at him just because those fucking dark eyes looked at you, taking you back hundreds of years to the time when HE was by your side and looked at you like that.

The similarity between them was not only in appearance. They had a lot in common when it came to character traits. Stubborn, mischievous, prescient, well-read... sometimes, when you spent too much time in his war room, you found yourself thinking of him as your Aleksander.

So slowly, despite all your self-loathing, you fell in love with the general.

That's why you were hiding from him in the library, hoping Alina, Zoya, or anyone else would keep him busy tonight enough to forget that you were supposed to meet him after dinner.

You had to suppress that stupid feeling. He was not Aleksander. He was just your husband's doppelgänger. Just a shell of your lover.

"Mel? Are you okey?" Alina's soft, concerned whisper snapped you out of your thoughts.

"I'm fine. Another nightmare?" you asked, patting the space next to you and opening the edge of the blanket for the girl to sit with you.

Your beginnings with Alina were not colourful; the sunny girl irritated you and could easily throw you off balance. But as time passed, you became friends to the point where you comforted her after her nightmares about the fold and the deaths of her loved ones. Sometimes you would read her old Ravkan fairy tales or sneak into the kitchen for hidden sweets. In more critical situations, you would drag her outside to the gardens, where you would sit on the pier by the lake, watching it gleam in the moonlight.

In a way, you too found solace in comforting the girl. It was nice to have company after being alone for so long. Fighting your past, which was showing up in your dreams, was easier with a ray of sunshine by your side.

"No. This time I can't sleep."

"Are you bothered by overly comfortable pillows, or maybe our princess felt a pea under the mattress?" Alina snorted, shaking her head. It took her some time to realise that your sarcastic remarks were not intended to offend her but merely to make her laugh.

"I'm thinking about Mal."

"Oh yeah… your boyfriend and childhood friend, what's up with him?" you asked, slamming the book shut to turn all your attention to the black-haired girl.

"He's not my boyfriend. We are only friends." she murmured, blushing, obviously awkward at your apt comment.

"Sunshine, I can recognise the face and eyes of a woman in love. You can't hide your feelings from me."

"Well, you're not the only one with this gift. Kirigan also gives you an infatuated man's look. Don't deny it! Even Ivan can see it. I think that already half of the second army knows about their general's fondness for the moon summoner." she teased you with a cocky smirk on her face. You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your book.

"Please, half of the Grishas look at me like that."

You knew what Alina meant. Kirigan looked to you as the solution to his fold problems - as did the other Grishas. Little did they know that instead of being their saviour, you gonna be their worst nightmare... a White Heretic.

"No, not in that way. They look at you, at us, as saints, as saviours who can destroy the fold. He admires you, not your power. And judging by the fact that you're still wearing a black kefta, he's not indifferent to you either."

You inadvertently snuggled deeper into the black material. Alina was partly right; maybe you didn't want to get involved in any romance, but it would definitely be easier to manipulate the general who is infatuated with you. You could have taken advantage of the fact that seeing you in his colours put him in a strangely pleasant mood. You've used your black clothes more than once as a weapon in your negotiations with the dark general.

"I have a black kefta because some irritatingly fast sun summoner found Genya first and got herself a dark blue one. You didn't leave me much choice, Alina."

"How sorry I am for that. By the way, Kirigan asked about you. He waits in his chambers, longing to finally see you after you've been ruthlessly ignoring him all day."

"I'm not done with you, Starkov!" you shouted after her, but the girl was already at the door, sticking her tongue out at you.

"See you in the morning, Petrova! You will tell me about your meeting with the General." she said as she walked away, slamming the library door.

"That little bitch." you muttered under your breath, wondering if you should go. You could have lied to him and said that you didn't meet Alina and forgot about your meeting. You only doubted the sun summoner's loyalty to you...

However, you started gathering your things, knowing full well that you would have to leave the library anyway.

You frowned as you heard soft footsteps behind you that probably no normal human would have heard… at least not one who hadn't lived at least a hundred years of hiding and running.

"Ivan." you greeted him without turning to face him. The man stopped, obviously surprised that you sensed his presence. However, he quickly returned to his unemotional mode.

"Miss Petrova. The General requests your presence in the war room."

"I was on my way." you replied, knowing full well that the man knew the truth. More than once, he chased you around the Little Palace at the general's behest. Fortunately, he had enough sense in his head not to make Kirigan aware that your memory was reliable and you didn't meet him only out of your own reluctance (actually, a huge desire to see him). "Alina just told me he wants to see me."

Ivan nodded and waited for you to escort you to the war room.

~•♤♤♤•~

Considering the fact that you were a regular visitor to Kirigan's war room, you should know the way to his chambers. But each time, you seemed to take a completely different route than the last time.

Ivan had to repay your elusiveness by making the longest trips to the general's room.

But this time, heartrender quickly dropped you off at his general's door and, wishing you good night, disappeared into one of the corridors.

You sighed, not wanting to face your growing infatuation and subsequent attempts to manipulate the general into carrying out your plans today.

You opened the door, entering the "vestibule". You pricked up your ears as you heard Kirigan talking to someone very familiar. Zoya.

"You used to call on me. On times like this. Your table wasn't messy, and in bed, it was me instead of these books. I can help you make it all right. Just let yourself relax." without knowing why, you wanted to go in there and interrupt whatever plan she had to seduce him. And not because you felt jealousy eating you up inside. You were supposed to be the one to lead him by the nose to do whatever you wanted. Not that windy bitch who was ruining your plan.

"I shall relax when my moon summoner comes here to help me with this. With her by my side, you don't need to worry about me anymore. I'm with the perfect helper." you chuckled internally, wanting so much to see the look on her face after he had rejected her. You figured this would be the perfect time to step in.

"Am I disturbing?" you asked as you walked inside.

If Zoya was an inferni, the general's room would probably go up in flames at the sight of you. Kirigan, on the other hand, seemed very pleased to see you. His eyes were focused only on you. And your black nightgown, over which you threw on (also the black) kefta he ordered.

"Not at all. Zoya was about to leave a few minutes ago."

"General." he said. Kirigan did not even glare at her as she bowed to him. She walked past you, giving you a hostile look, which you only smirked at.

"Didn't you forget something?" Kirigan's sharp question broke the silence between the three of you. Zoya stood immobile, as if engraved. She stared at the general for a moment, then clenched her hands into fists and bowed to you.

"Miss Petrova." she growled, then stormed out of the war room, slamming the door.

"It wasn't necessary. You'll only infuriate her more by forcing her to show me respect." you said, turning to face the general, who was suddenly right behind you. He was the only one who could sneak up on you. A skill he used extensively.

"You're the moon summoner… you'll get all the respect you deserve. I'll make sure about it." he murmured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You can't make people do it. Respect is something that has to be earned, something that has no meaning if it is given involuntarily." his silence surprised you. He usually answered your words with 10 of his. But now he was staring at you silently, which didn't help your already fast-beating heart. "So what do we have on the agenda today, general? Arguments about whether we really need First Army soldiers or you don't know where Loavana is."

"I know where Loavana is. I was tired then, and besides, you were the one who turned the map and misled me."

"Of course, general." you snorted, smiling teasingly. You moved to the other side of the table, tactically increasing the distance between you. "So, did you summon me for any reason other than staring at my natural glow? Because honestly, I'm getting a little bored." you said as you sat down on the table and casually reached for one of the orders he had written.

"Always impatient." he muttered, suddenly appearing in front of you and gently taking the paper from your hand.

"Always too mysterious."

"This may surprise you, but I have other things on my mind than your natural glow, little moon."

"What a shame." you murmured, placing your hand over your heart in a hurt gesture. But you became serious when you saw him staring dully at the map. "What's bothering you?"

"The Fjerdans have moved closer to our border."

"How many?" you asked, jumping off the table and turning your full attention to the distressed general.

"Several branches. Enough to get our attention and attack one of our regiments." he replied, pouring himself a glass of liquor and handing you your own.

"We need to speed up Alina's training. Before all hell breaks loose and our great king orders our troops to be divided to fight the Fjerdans. The fold case must be finally closed. Before we go to another war. For now, we have to send some of our healers and additional troops there. If there are more of Grishas there, no Fjerdan will dare attack them. They will shift their attention to the soldiers of the first army, and this will no longer be a direct problem for us." you turned to him, confused by his silence. Kirigan stared at you with a gentle, tender smile on his face and a longing, dreamy look. The silence between the two of you and the gaze he was giving you embarrassed you. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"

"No." he grunted, shaking his head as he blushed slightly when you caught him staring. "I just... I was fighting this war alone for so long."

This was the moment. You had to cast your net over him, surround him at his most vulnerable, and make him fall for you.

But you forgot to guard your own heart in the process...

You grabbed his hand. Your powers combined as usual when your skin touched, causing you to be enveloped in the utter darkness of his shadows, with only the white light emanating from your joined hands illuminating your faces.

"You're not alone." you whispered, afraid to break the spell between you. Afraid that the moment your voice reaches him, those damn hypnotic eyes will tear away from yours. Afraid your mind is about to scold the stupid heart that beat for the man before you. A man who, for the sake of your sanity, was too much like the husband you loved.

"I've been waiting a long time for you." he replied just as quietly, afraid to break the sanctity of the moment. Afraid it was another of his cruel dreams where he would have your dead body in his arms again. But the reality was even more brutal for him. Because the woman who stood before him, the woman who looked exactly like his wife, wasn't her at all. And that didn't stop his cold, centuries-old heart from beating for her.

"Believe me, not as long as me." you whispered. Tears began to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill out as he raised his other trembling hand and cupped your cheek. The feel of his cold hand on your face made you realise what you were doing. He was not Aleksander. He wasn't yours. And you will never be his. "I think I should go." you grunted, stepping away from him.

His shadows returned to him, as did your light. Everything has returned to normal. Except for the frantic beating of the hearts of the two of you.

"Don't forget about tomorrow's ball. We're supposed to put on a little show for the king and his nobility."

"How could I forget that we're supposed to be circus monkeys tomorrow?" you asked with a pugnacious smirk, to which he just shook his head in amusement.

"Don't let anyone else hear it. I don't want to visit you in a dungeon… however tempting you look in chains." his bold suggestion shocked you, but you decided to play on without giving him a chance to have the last word. You walked over to him and, ignoring his intense gaze, whispered in his ear with your lips brushing his earlobe.

"I'm not that easy to put in chains, general." you brushed his cheek with yours and disappeared from the war room at the speed of light.

It was something you could do. Game, flirt, chase, challenge—all kept away from any emotion other than lust. It was a game. Manipulation game. And you were going to win it. For your Aleksander and other Grishas.

~•♤♤♤•~

Your dress was so beautiful and wonderful. You admire Genya's skills, but what she did for you this time was indescribable.

With trembling hands, you smoothed the fabric of the dress around your waist, admiring the intricate embroidery of the constellations. The white and silver threads shone in the candlelight like real stars on your dark blue dress.

You didn't like getting dressed up, getting your hair up in a fancy hairstyle, or wearing those uncomfortable ball gowns. In fact, you've only worn formal clothes a few times in your life. But only twice did you feel like a true goddess, a queen. Today and on your wedding day.

"Who put that veil on you?" Baghra's grumpy tone snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had a lovely dress, even considering that neither you nor Aleksander and his mother had as much money compared to other families. But it didn't matter. Not for you. The most important was Alexander and you. And not the judgmental looks of other people. It was your day and no one could ruin it for you.

"Myself. Something's wrong?"

The woman sighed as she walked over to you and unfastened it with unusual delicacy for her, mumbling something about your blindness as she adjusted your crooked veil.

"Now. You look almost properly. You're missing one thing."

"Which is?"

She reached into the pouch strapped to her side and pulled out something shiny. She gestured for you to turn towards the mirror. You did it while watching a woman put the most beautiful necklace you've ever seen around your neck.

"Bagra is… it's wonderful. I can't…"

"Yes, you can. And you will be. I won't let that old hag gossip about my daughter looking like a poor peasant on her wedding day."

"Thank you." you whispered in a shaky voice, more concerned that the woman called you her daughter than the ridiculously expensive and beautiful necklace.

"Come on. Don't cry, or you'll turn red and scare everyone, including my son. You'd better hurry up. The boy is about to have a heart attack if you're another minute late. If it wasn't for Ulla, he would have run here 10 minutes ago."

"Did she manage to come?" you asked as she took your arm with the obvious intention of walking you down the aisle.

"Of course. That's my daughter. She wouldn't waste the opportunity to tease her crazy-in-love brother." you giggled, not missing her little smile. The woman stopped right in front of the exit door, giving you a serious look. "Y/N, are you absolutely sure you want this? You know our true origins, my boy's character, and all the dark things our family has been through. Are you absolutely sure you want to join this mess? 'Cause once we walk through that door, there's no turning back."

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Baghra."

"No. I need to hear it. Do you truly want this?"

"I dream of nothing more than marrying Aleksander, and spending my whole life with him, no matter how long or short it may be."

The woman nodded silently and opened the door.

A wide smile appeared on your face as soon as your gaze met the clearly nervous Aleksander. He calmed down the moment he saw you, an equally goofy, in-love smirk playing on his lips. And when he finally had you at arm's length, he didn't hesitate to grab your hands in his firm grip, never taking his eyes off yours for a moment.

It was just you and him. Lost in your love.

And so began your little eternity together... shorter than either of you would have liked.

You'll always remember that day, even if it was associated with bittersweet memories of your all-too-short marriage. A single tear fell from your eye. You wiped it with the sleeve of your dress.

Your hand automatically wandered under your dress, absently stroking the Baghra's necklace to which you had attached your wedding ring. The only memento of your past.

In another life, you and Aleksander could have had it all.

"Little moon? Are you ready?" Kirigan entered your room." We're going... soon." you could see in the mirror how he froze as his eyes met your reflection in the silver mirror.

You turned to him, making a sweeping movement with your skirt. You wouldn't waste your chance to be a diva. However, you yourself soon succumbed to a similar blackout as his as soon as you assumed the general's appearance.

The saints really liked to torment you.

There was no other explanation for why the man in front of you looked almost exactly like your husband on your wedding day.

Aleksander couldn't take his eyes off her. She was perfect. Ethereal, otherworldly, and breathtaking. His Y/N... No. She wasn't her. No one could be her, not even a woman with her face. Which didn't stop him from giving himself to this dream that it was his wife standing in front of him. He spent hundreds of years in suffering; maybe this one night he can afford to live in his most beautiful dreams, where SHE would still be with him.

He cleared his throat, snapping you both out of the strange, nostalgic atmosphere.

"You look amazing." you blushed as you turned back to the mirror, pretending to consider the truth of his compliment.

"Thank you. Genya makes wonderful dresses." you reached for the kefta thrown over the armchair, but the man beat you to it.

"Please, allow me." you nodded to him. You turned your back to him, waiting for him to put the kefta on your shoulders.

He smoothed it out, letting his hand brush the fabric of your bare collarbones for a moment too long. You shivered as you felt the tiny touch of his fingertips on your bare skin. Good thing the kefta covered most of your bare arms. You didn't want to give him satisfaction for how he was affecting you.

But judging by his dilated pupils, you weren't the only one who felt the attraction between the two of you.

However, you will definitely not be the one to give in to such trivial desires. He was not Aleksander. Nobody could.

"Thank you again." you murmured as you pulled away from him, smiling. You preferred to act oblivious to his advances rather than risk giving in to the lust that was evident between the two of you. Although you knew there would come a point in your little game where you'd have to seduce him a bit to lull his guard down. And you feared that moment more than entering the fold.

"Anytime, love. Shall we?" he asked, offering you his arm. "I hope you spare me at least one dance." he murmured, smiling at you with that flirty twinkle in his eyes as he kissed your hand.

Wonderfully. Now he was supposed to be your personal bodyguard for all night.

You sighed, grabbing his arm. Kirigan pulled you closer as he escorted you through the maze of corridors.

It was going to be a really tough day. - you thought, allowing yourself to steal a glance at the general who was already watching you. - Especially with those eyes so focused on me.

~•♤♤♤•~

The Kirigan left you alone for a moment just before entering the ballroom. You were to wait for him and Alina, and then the three of you were to give little shows of darkness and light.

So you waited patiently until someone bumped into you, knocking you to the floor.

"Watch where you walk!" you growled, dusting yourself off as you got up off the floor. The hooded figure stopped and turned to you. You both froze when you saw your faces.

"Y/N?" Baghra asked in disbelief. "It is impossible." she whispered, coming closer to you and catching your hand in a strong, bruising grip, only to grab your necklace later, which had slipped out from under your dress after you fell. She looked at him tenderly, shifting her gaze to you.

"Hello mom." you whispered uncertainly, fearing your mother-in-law's reaction. She liked you, it's true, but in the meantime, you managed to disappear without a trace for hundreds of years. You didn't know what your relationship was like now. But rather, neither of you could be hostile to the other.

"It's really you… But how? I… we thought you were dead, child. Where have you been all this time?"

"A little here, a little there. Forgive me for not writing or coming. I think you understand perfectly well why I didn't."

"Not even a bit, actually." she replied, confused. You frowned. You've never seen Baghra confused. It was a strange sight, to say the least, and definitely worth remembering.

"You know how dear he was... Aleksander is to me. After his death..."

"Death?" she asked. You didn't know if you misheard or if the surprise in her voice was genuine. She rather knew about his death, didn't she?

"Yes. While creating a fold." you explained, looking at her intently. But Baghra's face never betrayed anything. Not any single emotion. She tucked the necklace under your dress and grabbed your shoulders.

"Oh, my dear child. For all this time..."

"Baghra!" Kirigan's scream echoed through the empty corridor. The woman stepped back from you like she was burned, watching the general with contempt as he approached the two of you. "What are you talking about with my moon summoner? I hope she didn't bother you too much, Miss Petrova."

"Not at all. Actually…"

"I was just leaving, moi soverenyi." the woman interrupted you, giving you an enigmatic look, before she turned her back to you two. "Enjoy yourself, Miss Petrova." she threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Crazy woman. But he teaches the young Grisha well. What did she want from you?"

"Nothing special. She asked where I was from and what I was doing here. I don't think she's heard of the new moon summoner yet."

"Probably you are right. Let's go. We've got a show to play."

He took your hand gently and led you to the centre of the room, where Alina was already waiting for you.

You had a simple task. Kirigan summons shadows. Alina, on the other side of the room, her golden rays, and you, the white moonlight that was supposed to connect with her powers, then break up into several constellations.

A child's trick and spectacle for the common folk who treated you like toys all rolled into one.

Everything was going smoothly. Suddenly, the room was completely dark. You waited patiently for Alina's light to appear on the other side of the room. When suddenly someone approached you from behind.

"It's okay, it's me. It's just me, you're safe."

"What are you doing?" you asked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, taking both of your hands in his.

"Don't you think this is the best place to watch the whole show?" his question confused you. You turned in his arms, miraculously seeing those bloody, dark eyes in the darkness. The mischievous sparks both made your chest feel warm and terrified. The bastard was up to something.

"I doubt it; with my light, you'll barely see Alina's trick."

"Works perfectly for me, my little moon." he whispered against your ear. You tensed as you felt his soft lips on your earlobe.

Suddenly he leaned in, the tip of his nose tracing a path from your ear down your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he inhaled your perfume and those damn distracting lips slid from your ear to your neck.

He started placing small, wet kisses there. Your brain has melted. It stopped working while the general was kissing every sensitive spot on your neck. He read your body so damn well that if it weren't for his quick reflexes and his hand over your mouth, your loud, obscene groan would have echoed in the darkness of the ballroom.

You felt the light involuntarily escape from you and thanked all the saints that you lost control just as Alina finished her part.

You tried to push the shadow summoner away from you, but your attempts were so futile (and reluctant) that you quickly gave up, focusing on doing your job with his intoxicating mouth and roaming hands on you.

The son of a bitch was lucky to stay in the shadows, unseen by anyone but you.

You internally cursed yourself for how much easier it was to do the whole trick with him around.

To your great disappointment, he moved away from you just before the grand finale. You were panting, trying to calm your wildly beating heart, and breathing as the light began to take over the ballroom.

And those fucking dark eyes and smug smirk were the first damn thing you saw when you and Alina lit up the room.

People started applauding. Kirigan came up to you and grabbed your hand, and after Alina joined you, you bowed to everyone, gathering an ovation. You glanced briefly at Kirigan, who was staring at your neck. You just hoped he didn't leave a hickey in plain sight. But judging by the way his smirk widened and the way he ran away from you as soon as you were surrounded by a crowd of people, you assumed you had a new, not-so-visible yet bruise on your skin.

You'll kill him as soon as you get your hands on him.

~•♤♤♤•~

You stand in the darkness of his war room, waiting for him to finally appear. You played with the dagger in your hands, contemplating meeting Baghra. You felt something was wrong, something was missing. The woman's behaviour both helped you and, after the general's arrival, gave you a lot to think about. She was hiding something. But what?

you sighed. If only Aleksander was here. It would save you a lot of trouble. Among other things, intimidating his doppelgänger, who started to stick to you too much - much to your tacit approval.

But you were aware that this attraction was only due to his resemblance to your Aleksander. In a few decades, Kirigan will die too. And you will be completely alone again.

The sound of his boots hitting the floor snapped you out of your thoughts. You braced yourself for an attack and jumped on him just as he flanked the door and stepped inside. You pinned him against the wall with a dagger to his neck as he gave you a surprised, amused look.

"Hello, moonlight. Do you like the ball?"

"What the hell was that?!" you growled, pressing the blade against his skin as you made a small, harmless cut.

"You put a dagger to my neck far too often, darling." he noted, frowning as droplets of blood decorated the silver metal.

"Don't change the fucking subject! You have no damn right to act like this. Lay your hand on me like that again, and I'll make sure you don't have anything to summon your shadows with, general."

"So my lips on your incredibly alluring soft skin were no problem for you, my sweet moon?" he asked maliciously, raising an eyebrow. You growled, irritated by his arrogance. You guessed you preferred it when he responded to your attack with his own dagger.

"Do that again, and you won't live to see another moment to find out."

"You forget..." he mumbled, suddenly grabbing your hand holding the blade and wrapping his other around your neck. He pinned you against the wall, making sure there was no space between you two. "That you're not the only one with power here."

"You'd better let me go, little shadow, before you unleash hell you can't stop." you growled, summoning your light, which immediately met his shadows. You fought, jostling with your powers and staring hard into each other's eyes. You weren't going to lose this fight.

"You underestimate me, darling. I'm more than able to face any of your hell."

You didn't know why, but that sentence, the confidence in his eyes, the arrogance in his voice, and the same immense need that was hiding under both yours and his mask of restraint changed something between you two.

His already dark eyes were practically taken over by black pupils that stared at you lustfully. The intoxicating smell of his perfume, the warmth of his body, and those damn big, cool hands on your hot skin only made you accept your spur-of-the-moment decision.

With his hand still tightly wrapped around your neck, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

You both groaned in unison. Your only consolation in this situation was that before your hands hooked on his strong arms, holding on tightly for fear your legs would give out, you could hear his dagger first drop to the marble floor, seconds before your blade.

You only broke apart for a moment before quickly removing the other's kefta and catching the other's lips again. You fought for control, biting into the other's lip every now and then, which only met with more resistance and the will to fight. Neither you nor he were made to lose.

At one point, he grabbed you by the waist, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you to the nearest flat surface—the war table. With one flick of his hand, he swept all the maps, papers, and other stuff off him onto the floor and practically threw you onto a wooden table.

You gasped in shock as your body suddenly hit the wood, which Kirigan quickly took advantage of. He dug into your mouth, his tongue grazing yours as he tried to dominate you once again.

You growled, grabbing the back of his black shirt and tearing the fabric to get to his skin, where you didn't hesitate to leave blood crescents in the shape of your fingernails.

He hissed away from your kiss-swollen lips and bit into the same damn spot on your neck where he had dared leave a hickey before.

Aleksander...

You froze. It wasn't Aleksander. It will never be your Aleksander again. No matter how damn similar they were.

Kirigan continued to kiss your neck when you finally decided, with a heavy heart, to push him away with a gentle kick.

You both stared at each other, gasping for breath. Kirigan took a hesitant step towards you and raised his hand to gently stroke your cheek. But you jumped off the war table before his skin could touch yours and start your kissing session all over again.

You had to escape from there. As soon as possible.

"I... I should go." you mumbled, shoving past him to pick up the kefta that had been thrown on the floor by him.

"Wait a second..." he followed you but stopped the moment his eyes met yours again. You both wanted each other. You were both held back by the very same thing that attracted you in the first place.

"We have a hard day tomorrow. Make sure Ivan wakes up Alina; she's not such an early riser after all." you mumbled in panic, backing towards the door.

"Melinoe." he tried to stop you, but your hand on the doorknob was faster. You opened the door, and without looking back, you threw over your shoulder:

"Good night, general."

You ran to your room, and before anyone could stop you, you shut the door. Tears began to flow freely from your eyes as you slid to the floor.

For a moment, a fleeting little moment, you were Y/N again. You were that 20-year-old girl kissing her husband again. But Kirigan could never be Aleksander. And even if you gave him your heart, he would shatter it to pieces over time when he, like other descendants of your Aleksander, reached old age. You were doomed to be lonely. But the fact that a person with eyes, a face, and a mind so like your husband was at your fingertips wasn't helpful to your already broken soul at all.

You just wanted to have your husband in your arms again. Was it so much for the saints to accomplish? You sobbed piteously until you fell asleep on the floor from exhaustion.

Little did you know that a few floors above you, someone was also mourning their dead significant other. And he also cursed fate for putting in his path a woman so similar to the one for whom he would give everything he held dear.

One thing was certain. The longer you stayed in the presence of the other, the more you lost your mind. But neither of you was ready to deprive yourself of the toxic pleasure of seeing the living face of your beloved, lost spouse.

~•♤♤♤•~

As planned, the next day you headed towards the border with Fjerdans. Neither you nor the general spoke to you most of the way, which Alina and Baghra noticed. Yes. Baghra went with you. The general was just as shocked as you, but surprisingly, he didn't argue with the woman about her unannounced presence.

The only thing you were afraid of during this trip was crossing the land where your village used to be. Aleksander's house and yours. It also didn't help that you were supposed to be there on the exact anniversary of his death - the creation of the fold.

You thought it would be easier for you to ride a horse through the only place where you were happy, but the wave of memories flooding you did not allow you to pass by indifferently.

"You'll never catch me!" you run away from him, laughing.

"If I catch you, the game will be over. But since you're insulting my capabilities…" you yelled as you ran away when Aleksander rushed to you.

You ran along the river, looking over your shoulder every now and then to make sure your boyfriend wasn't right behind you.

Suddenly, a cloud of shadows appeared in front of you, from which your Sasha came out and grabbed you by the waist. You thrashed in his embrace, causing you both to fall to the ground, laughing.

"Aleksander! You shouldn't use it in public!" you scolded him, punching him lightly in the chest.

"We are in the middle of the forest. There are only us and some animals."

"Still it is risky for you. Don't make me tell your mother about this."

"Could you please stop threatening me with my own mother?" he groaned, throwing you off him, to which you squealed indignantly. You stared with your daggers at the man lying before you with a mischievous smirk and an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Since I found out she likes me and trusts me more than you? No, it's too funny, my grumpy shadow-man." you laughed. You rolled your eyes as you watched his expression growl. You climbed on top of him and kissed the crease that had formed between his eyebrows from your comment. "I'm soooo sorry, Sasha. You know how much I love you, right? You're the most important person in my life, Aleksander Morozova."

"And you in mine, Y/N Y/L/N." he murmured, grabbing your cheek and pulling you into a sweet, slow kiss. You purred, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours - something you'll never get tired of. He pulled away from you far too quickly. He licked his lips, looking at you nervously. You raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Y/N... can I ask you a question?"

"Right now? I thought you gonna kiss me a little longer, but if it's so important." he chuckled, shaking his head, as he leaned down to catch your lips in a kiss again.

"Happy, lapushka?"

"Not really, but I'll try to survive a few minutes without your lips on mine." he chuckled, but you knew from the features of his face and the gentle clasping of his shoulders that something was bothering him. You just hoped he wouldn't have to leave with his mother again... "What did you want to ask me?" Aleksander cleared his throat, taking your hands in his trembling.

"You know that I love you. I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if you hadn't put that dagger to my throat five years ago right here."

"I knew I recognized this place from somewhere." you cut him off, looking around the clearing. Aleksander laughed, catching your attention again as you blushed at how stupidly you interrupted him. But it seemed to help him relax, judging by the way his hand confidently reached out to cup your cheek.

"You make me laugh. Even on the darkest, worst of days. Just one look at those wonderfully beautiful eyes is enough to completely change my mood. One word from you and all my plans and beliefs fall into oblivion. You are the light in my darkness. The only good thing that happened to me. The only person who isn't afraid of what I can do. The only person who looks at me with such adoration despite my shadows."

"You know I love them. I love all of you, Sasha. Nothing will change that." you replied with tears in your eyes, suspecting what his confession would lead to.

"I know I have nothing worth you and that the life I can offer you is nothing compared to what you deserve, but you know me better than I know myself... I would go crazy if I wasn't the only man who has the privilege of seeing your face first thing every morning and falling asleep in the presence of your beauty. I'd go crazy if someone else could be called yours..." Aleksander took a simple gold ring with a small black gem from his pocket.

You gasped, knowing full well how much money he must have spent on even such a simple engagement ring. Baghra was supposed to skin your fiancé when she figured out what he wasted their money on.

"Sasha..." you whispered, crying, moving your gaze towards him.

"Y/N, kei onolich yash (will you marry me)? Will you be my wife?" too moved to answer him, you pulled him into a kiss. You both smiled like idiots. "I'm guessing it's yes then, but I'd rather hear it from you before I tell everyone else."

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you, you idiot. You didn't have to buy me a ring, Sasha. I would say yes without it."

"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't reject me." he replied with a mischievous smirk, putting it on your finger. You huffed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. The ring sparkled in the moonlight. Your face hurts from smiling. "I promise you, Y/N one day I'll give you the prettiest, flashiest ring in all of Ravka."

"And I will still prefer the one you gave me today." you replied without a second of hesitation, pulling your fiancé into another kiss.

The Kirgian ordered a stop, which everyone accepted with gratitude. And when others Grishas dispersed to their tasks, you decided to go to the place where your house and Aleksander's once stood.

Since you were already a stupid girl, as Baghra so nicely called you, this little trip shouldn't hurt you. You'd rather be stupid and crazy—completely mad from love—than ever forget about Aleksander and move on.

And that's how you got here. By the river, close to the place where you used to be the happiest in the world, and now you were shedding a sea of tears over the life you lost.

"I will build you a palace."

"What?" you asked, giggling as you looked away from the stars to your husband lying next to you on the grass.

Sensing the movement of your head, he turned around to look at you closely. You both loved nights like these. Your hands intertwined as you both lay on the ground looking at the stars and talking about your day, your plans, and your dreams. It was a sacred ritual between the two of you that you performed at least once a week.

"A palace. For you and our future children. A safe place where we can live with our little family."

"Sasha... I don't need a palace to feel safe with you. You are my shelter. My protector. What we have now is more than enough."

"That little hut where we barely fit in with our stuff, even though we don't have much anyway? NO. You deserve all the treasures of this world, Y/N" he murmured, stroking your cheek tenderly.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against his hand, enjoying every ounce of his attention. It's been getting more and more dangerous around here lately. You seldom had time to spend together; you were too busy with the Grisha needing your help. But you didn't mind. As long as Aleksander's eyes gave you that loving, adoring look at least once a day, you were ready to face anything to get back into his waiting arms.

"I already have one." he raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking at you in surprise. You just smiled, pulling him to you by the chin and connecting your lips in a kiss. Aleksander rolled over and hovered over you, not breaking your tender kiss. You placed your hands on his cheeks and gently pulled him away, looking into his eyes. No stars in the sky could match the brilliance of his dark irises. "You are my treasure. With you by my side I want nothing more. You're all I need to be happy, Sasha." you mumbled, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. Aleksander buried his face in your hands, closing his eyes for a moment and surrendering to this tender gesture.

"You deserve much more, milaya. And I promise, by all the saints and stars in the sky, I'll give you the world."

"Everything in time, Aleksander. Now, kiss your wife and show her how much you love her." you giggled as his long hair tickled your cheeks as he dutifully caught your lips in another sweet kiss.

"Was he really worth it?" Baghra's question cut through your sobs. You wiped your tears, not wanting to cry in front of her, and turned to face her. "Wouldn't you rather curse him for creating a fold and for leaving you than mourn the bastard that was my son? Y/N, child, you have eternity ahead of you. An eternity where you can be happy. Is Aleksander worth wasting it?" you laughed bitterly, knowing the answer to her question all too well. Nothing has changed over the centuries. And you knew nothing would change your feelings.

"You know very well that I will never know happiness again. Not without him. I've never done that in all these years."

"There had to be a moment. Even the smallest." she tried desperately to convince you. You dropped your head, remembering those few moments between you and Kirigan in Little Palace.

"There was. Next to a man who looked like him. But after a while, it dawned on me that he would never be Aleksander. Call me and think about me however you want. Pathetic child, crazy woman… But the truth is, I loved your son, Baghra, and I will always love only him. Our hearts were created by the saints as one and divided in two, placing one in Aleksander and the other in me. There is no one in the world I could love like him, with whom I could be truly happy. This type of love never dies, Baghra. Even separated by a grave."

"What if you got him back? If he was with you, but he wasn't the same man you remember?"

"It wouldn't matter. We are all changing. I know I would love him as much as I did then."

"I just hope you know what you want, child. And that maybe he'll go back to who he used to be because of you." she sighed, leaving you alone with your grief. You frowned, analysing her vague words.

It wasn't until it started to get dark that you got up from your knees and brushed the dirt off your clothes. You were about to leave when the crunch of branches caught your attention. A foolish hope rose in you and you lifted your head, only to meet your eyes with the Kirgian.

"General. I was just returning to camp." he nodded his head without a word.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned to take one last look at what used to be your home. You sighed tremblingly as a lone tear rolled down your cheek.

And you whistled.

It was a fragment of an old Ravkan song about lovers returning home after a long journey to throw themselves into each other's arms, longing for separation. You and Aleksander adored it. And you decided that every time one of you left home, you would whistle that particular verse that stuck in your mind.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

A cool breeze caressed your hot (from crying) skin. But the goosebumps that formed on your arms weren't from the cold at all.

"In the apple orchard stands the maiden fair and sings, When will you come home?"

You froze. Incapable of anything but breathing. You misheard. It's just one of your stupid fantasies, your mind playing tricks on you, or another cruel dream about how you got back the man you loved. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be real.

But the man holding your arm in a tight grip and turning you around to face him felt very real. AND ALIVE.

"Sasha?" you whispered tearfully, shaking all over, and if it wasn't for his strong grip on both of your arms, you probably would have fallen to your knees in front of him long ago, unable to do anything other than stare hopefully at the man in front of you.

Aleksander's heart shuddered and threatened to burst as the pet name, unused for hundreds of years, reached his ears. In an instant, you were on his chest as he hugged you with all his might. With your ear to his heart, you listened to his beating, and for the first time in hundreds of years, you cried WITH HAPPY.

"It's me, milaya. My sweet Y/N, my moon, my heart, my wife. It's me."

You heard him through a haze, too intent on his eyes to understand anything more from his speech. It was him. Your Aleksander. All this time. He was saying something to you, but you completely ignored him as something gold around his neck shimmered in the moonlight. You pulled the chain from under his jacket, sighing as you saw his wedding ring hanging securely on his necklace. A sob of disbelief escaped you. It was really him.

His hand cupping your cheek caused your watery gaze to shift back to those dark, beloved eyes.

"No more tears, milaya. You do not have to worry. From now on, I will never leave your side again. Not for a single bloody second."

And that was enough for you.

Grabbing his hair, you pulled him closer to you to feel his lips on yours as soon as possible. It wasn't one of those soft, gentle, unhurried kisses that lovers share after they meet after some separation.

It was intense, desperate, and needy, expressing your deadly longing for each other's lips through those painful years without each other. You didn't have the strength to hold back, to pretend you didn't miss that exact feeling all those lonely nights.

It didn't matter that your tears mixed and you could taste their salty taste on each other's lips. It didn't matter that your lungs were burning for air. It didn't matter that you had already fallen to your knees, too shaken by the feeling of the other's lips, but both of you longed too much for this closeness between you to deprive yourself of the warmth of the other's body even for a millisecond. It didn't matter if your lips were too swollen to decently go back to camp and pretend nothing had happened between you two.

You sincerely doubted that you would be able to take even a step towards the camp. Not after you trembled in Aleksander's lap as his hands caressed every inch of your skin.

But the moment came when you had to pull away from each other, cursing the need for air. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent and clinging to his kefta to be as close to him as possible.

You both knew that there was no way you were going to be an arm's length away from each other. And you were seriously considering sticking with him permanently. His dark cloak looked big enough for you to hide under it too.

You couldn't believe your luck. He was here. With you. You had his arms around you again as you both clung desperately to each other.

Your Aleksander. Your husband. Your loved one. Your heart.

He had you again. His wife. His soulmate. His sanity. His equal. HIS EVERYTHING.

You wanted to pull away for a moment to look at his face again, but something tugged at your neck, bringing your head to Aleksander's shoulder. You looked down. Your necklaces are tangled.

"Seriously? It couldn't have happened a month ago?" you groaned as you tried to untangle your chains. You smiled, hearing how your husband laughed carelessly for the first time in centuries, since the day he lost you. "We'll never hear the end of it from Baghra, you know about it Sasha?" you asked, resting your forehead against his as you gave up on releasing the two of you. It didn't matter that everything was against you again. At least now you finally have Aleksander with you. YOUR real Aleksander.

"She had already called me a blind fool before she made me come here. I think we'll hear a lot from her about our stupidity." he murmured. You shivered as you felt his fingertips on your neck as he untied your intertwined necklaces effortlessly. He unclasped yours and, with great delicacy, placed the ring on your finger.

"Remind me to thank your mother for making you come here later." you replied, making sure his wedding ring was on his finger as well. Maybe you won't scare all the bitches away from him, but at least you'll make it clear that he belongs only to you. After hundreds of years without him, you have the right to be territorial.

"Later?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't think I'm going anywhere other than your tent and your bed right now, do you?"

"Our bed." he murmured before grabbing you in bridal style and heading for your tent. "By the way, I must commend you for how bravely you resisted the charms of someone who wasn't me. I barely managed to kiss you properly before you pushed me away."

"I don't know what I should do to you. Slap you for groping someone who had my face, or kiss you for only being attracted to my beauty."

"You have to admit, you didn't resist me much back then, my little saint." he murmured, kissing you again. He ran his hand through your hair, pulling you all the way onto him so he could feel your weight on him. You were with him. Body and soul. And it wasn't a dream. "Let's go to that tent before I have my way with you here and now." he muttered, getting up.

"Wait." you grabbed his hand. He turned to you, giving you a questioning look as he found you still kneeling on the grass. "Before we do anything. We both agree that we are not going to destroy the fold, right?"

Aleksander held his breath. He forgot how damn perfect you were. How you fit in and understood him in every way. And only the slight ounce of control he had left was keeping him from lunging at you right now as you kneeled in front of him with those beautiful, mesmerising eyes staring at him.

But after all, Aleksander was only human. A man whose cruel fate separated him from his beloved wife for many centuries…

He pulled you close to him in one swift motion. You crashed into his chest, completely unprepared for the sudden movement, but his intoxicating lips on yours compensated for your shock.

You moaned into his mouth as he pulled away from you so as not to lose his control completely.

"Saints, you have no idea how much I've missed you, my little moon."

"I'll take it as a yes." you replied, giggling as he put his arm around you. As you'd guessed, you fit perfectly with him under his cloak. You sighed, intoxicated by his scent.

"You know so well that I'll do anything for you. The fact that our plans coincide only proves that we belong to each other. And only to each other."

"Always, Sasha. I'm yours for eternity." you replied, smiling slightly as you turned to steal a glance at him.

"And I'm yours for the rest of our lives and beyond." he murmured, kissing your forehead.

You practically ran through the camp, ignoring Baghra's knowing, malicious look and the shocked expressions of Alina, Zoya, and Ivan (at which you giggled, causing Aleksander a small, tender smile) and Fedyor's smirk. You entered his tent, laughing as you started kissing while taking off each other's clothes.

"I hope you realize we don't leave this tent for at least a week?" he asked as he laid you down on the bed. However, the bastard didn't wait for your response, stealing a kiss from you.

"They'll be looking for you, Sasha." you mumbled between your kisses and grabbed his cheeks to make him focus on something other than your lips.

"What a pity I'll be too busy with my wife to notice anyone else but her." he lowered his head to your neck, making your hands tangle in his hair. You sighed, feeling his tongue on your skin just before he gently bit you.

"I thought we had a battle to win." he suddenly stopped all his movements. He intertwined your ringed hands and cupped your cheek with the other, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"My little moon, I'll postpone any goddamn war for you. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you and never will be." he promised, pressing his lips to yours.

You moaned, enjoying the long-forgotten feeling of his skin against yours as well as knowing that your love would never die.

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ MY TYPE: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Even after years Crocodile could never figure out what was his type of woman. At least with you he could figure out he wasn't even interested in women in general"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! reader, MASC! reader (can be trans or not), HOMO RELATIONSHIP, CROCODILE IS GAY HERE, Mihawk is also gay, LIGHT HOMOPHOBIA, LIGHT SEXISM, Crocodile is a old man with old morals (not defending him), Gay club, a little joke with crocodile name, light description about reader clothes but still free for you imagine your own way

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : After years I'm posting again, I'm not in my better mood and things have being hard for me, so I'm kinda didn't any of my hobbies, like writing and posting, sorry for that. Hope you guys enjoy it, fem blogs/blank blogs/no pronouns = block

Now imagine Crocodile who refuses to have a lasting relationship regardless of the woman who throws himself at his feet. He takes them to some events, some photos of the most beautiful and chic women in his arms, maybe even some flirting without commitment, but a second date or even something more serious? No way.

He can't explain why he can never stay interested in a woman for more than a few hours. What if he tries? Well the things he would say to try to justify why no woman is good enough would be something like:

The lipstick was too strong, the lipstick was too weak, the dress was too exaggerated, the dress was not flashy enough, the smile was too simple, the smile was too fake. Too tall, too short, too thin, not thin enough, didn't wear high heels, wore high heels, uncultured, knew too many things, too independent, too dependent, etc.

“More it seems like you don't like women” Doflamingo laughed in his face as he drank again, the man in the burgundy suit was already tired of hearing his friend's endless excuses about why he didn't have anyone. “Who likes women likes all types of women, simple as that” what he said was true, reinforcing his point by opening his arms, making the two women who were sitting next to him throw themselves onto his chest.

Crocodile couldn't deny that he also believed that statement, he thought men who wanted to demand crazy things from women were stupid, but he wasn't like that... he just hadn't found the right woman. Of course Doflamingo was very different, in his arms were now two completely different women, style, body, color and height, but he knew very well that the demon would give the two equal love and attention. Although it wouldn't make much difference since he would forget about them both the next day.

“Not all men want easy bitches, that doesn't mean I don't like women” he spat with venom, seeing one of the women become embarrassed and the other look at him with hatred. Of course he just ignored it and continued drinking his wine, becoming even more stressed about the situation.

“Don't be mad now fufufu” Doflamingo laughed seeing how angry the other was.

“What’s wrong with you not liking women?” Mihawk asked with a raised eyebrow and for a moment the other two men forgot he was there due to the silence. Crocodile bit his cheek remembering that his friend was gay and would probably be offended by the conversation.

“None, but I like women, I'm just demanding” Crocodile explained the situation and Mihawk seemed to accept the excuse but he still hadn't given up on the subject.

“If you don't find any woman that pleases you, perhaps you can find a man that satisfies you” was all Dracule said.

God. Crocodile wanted to kill Mihawk, after that damn sentence all he could think about was that. What if he actually liked men? Of course not... he's always been with women his whole life, so he liked them, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to men.

He tried to convince himself of this as much as he could, but god it felt like someone had opened Pandora's box. For the next few days he couldn't stop noticing the men in the office, the way they moved, the way their bodies acted, the way they also had their own beauty. Hell! He was sure Daz had caught him looking at a male employee's ass more than once! He couldn't have his reputation ruined like that!

So he forced Mihawk to meet with him again, he had some questions, he just needed some proof that he was completely straight. Once he had reaffirmed his sexuality he would be fine and could stop acting like an old pervert.

“Being with women all your life doesn't mean being straight, we're old, we grew up in a time where that was the only way, the correct way” Mihawk said without much emotion sitting at the bar with his friend while they enjoyed a whiskey “Maybe now you’ve finally gotten tired of pretending and your body is just showing signs that you were never attracted to women.”

“And how do I find out if I like men?” Crocodile asked, almost ashamed of what he was saying, he would definitely kill someone if this was exposed.

“Go out with one.”

And that's where you get into the story. Crocodile locked himself in his office for weeks without knowing what to think or do, how the hell was he supposed to go out with a man if he never even considered it before?! That was until he received an invitation to a nightclub, Circus Royale Club, he thought it was a prank until he received a message from Mihawk explaining what it was.

“The clown has a gay nightclub, completely discreet, if something gets out he already knows that you won't forgive him. He talked to a few people and said there’s someone you might like to meet, I figured you wouldn’t make the first move alone, give it a chance.”

He almost jumped from the top floor of his building but his friend was right, he was too nervous to make a move alone, he didn't even know where to look for it. Regular nightclubs and dating sites were out of the question, but perhaps Buggy's nightclub was an option. He would actually kill the idiot if anything like that got out in the media, so he was confident that his privacy was protected… Now he just didn't trust the clown's taste in finding Crocodile a romantic partner, but it's not like he had any other option.

He tried to dress like he normally would, a simpler suit, nothing vibrant or exaggerated. For a moment he thought it wouldn't suit the location and he was right and wrong.

The nightclub inside was truly another world, it was extremely chic and in shades of red and dark blue, giving a very sensual depth to everything. The problem was the people, the employees all wore white shirts with blue or red vests, too circus-like for Crocodile, in addition to the masks that only covered their eyes to separate them from the customers. And the customers? Heavens… It really looked like a circus, he saw people wearing wigs bigger than their own heads, colorful and extravagant clothes, fantastic makeup, was there someone wearing wings and horns?!

He felt a little… overwhelmed, to say the least. He thought gay people were like Mihawk, extremely discreet, or just a little more cheerful and feminine, not like that... Okay that was a terribly homophobic thought, he needed a drink.

He picked up something strong and sat down on a table, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor but being inaudible due to the music playing. He quickly sent a message to Mihawk asking what the hell that place was and wondering if it was gays or some real circus.

“Don't worry about them, the people at the clown's nightclub are more exotic, not everyone is like that” thank God because Crocodile didn't see himself dating a walking rainbow “I only chose this place because discretion was guaranteed, your partner wouldn't It’s like the ones you see”

He thanked him mentally, not that he judged people for dressing how they wanted, sometimes he did, but being a pink Barbie just didn't suit him! If he was going to have someone, he wanted someone who suited his discreet and formal style more, man or woman, that wasn't a discussion.

He was about to “thank” Mihawk for the terrible place when he saw you walking in. You were stunning. You wore nice dark pants and a lighter shirt with a nice print that suited you perfectly. The outfit wasn't discreet gothic level like Mihawk or vomiting rainbows like the others there, it was just... you. It was an outfit that made you look amazing and you knew it, he could see your confidence, you were beautiful and you knew it. And heavens, Crocodile had to admit that it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen.

You looked around and stopped when you saw Crocodile, your eyebrows arching in surprise as if you didn't believe that Crocodile existed and was really there. You smiled and instead of going to the table where Crocodile was, you went towards the bar, where you stayed for a few minutes, talked to the bartender, got your own drink.

Crocodile had never felt so nervous before, he was used to having all the attention just on him, women threw themselves at his feet for a chance. And here you were, knowing he was the one you were supposed to meet but you were purposely ignoring him. His heart was beating fast and he felt the sweat beneath his thin suit. He had an absurd urge to get up and force you to pay attention to him, to show you that he was the only one who deserves your attention, when he had become so desperate and needy for someone's attention? Even more of a man?

After all that you finally took your glass of drink and went to the table and sat in front of him, you crossed your legs and sipped your drink before leaving it on the table, then you faced him, in complete silence. Hell this was totally different from what he was used to, here you seemed to be staring at him as if to say “prove to me that you are worthy of my attention”. This wasn't what he was used to, he was no longer a hunter, he was prey.

“I thought you didn’t realize I was your date” he said softly, composing himself while drinking his drink.

“Of course I noticed, it's not very difficult to know who I should meet here, just look around and see how you differ from everyone…” you laughed “You're like a fish out of water… in fact you are more to a crocodile in the middle of all the fish” you looked at him sensually biting your lip.

“Hah… And you look like an animal photographer, completely camouflaged in the environment… but if you look closely you know that you are someone superior to any animal” he said with a determined smile and the victory was his by the way you blushed and squirmed in your place.

“Crocodile, right?” You had now abandoned your malicious and even evil manner, now you seemed completely open and genuine to trying to have a date with him “(y/n), it’s a pleasure”

“The pleasure is definitely all mine” he said genuinely. Maybe dating men wouldn't be so bad, maybe being a gay man wouldn't be so bad… Maybe having you as his partner in a serious longterm relationship with you… yeah, it didn't seem so bad.

[sonamytrash]

Bad, bad boy.

Underground Levi x F! Reader

An: With bad boy out in less than four days, I felt inspired to write some sexy underground Levi.

Warnings: S3x, semi public s3x, dirty talk, alcohol drinking mentioned, smoking mentioned, reader has big tiddies, underground Levi, fem reader, female anatomy described, vaginal fingering, multiple org@sms, creampie, unprotected s3x.

The dimly lit bar, nestled deep within the labyrinthine underground, was a haven for those seeking solace from the harsh realities of their world. The warm glow of amber lights danced across the rough-hewn walls with a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air like a thin veil.

He'd been nursing his drink for the better part of an hour, lost in thought, when you walked in. Levi glanced up as he felt a familiar presence. Something about you had caught his eye weeks ago - the way you moved, the confidence in your step, your curvaceous figure that seemed to demand attention.

The beautiful woman who had been frequenting his thoughts, and this bar as often as he. Your hair fell in waves down your back, and your eyes seemed to glow in the low light. You were dressed in a form-fitting black dress that hugged your body tightly. You were always a striking contrast to the drab surroundings of the underground. He could feel his heart race as your eyes met, the connection between the two of you almost tangible.

Your eyes adjusted to the light, scanning the crowd for his familiar face. You spotted him almost immediately; Levi, the short, brooding man with piercing blue eyes and a body that could make even the most jaded of women weak at the knees. His gaze was locked on you, and you could feel it like a physical touch, sending shivers down your spine.

You smiled to yourself, taking a step forward. The sound of your high-heeled shoes clicking on the floor seemed to echo through the bar, drawing everyone's attention to you. Levi's gaze never wavered as you sauntered to towards him, feeling more and more confident with each step.

It was true that your mere presence demanded the gaze of everyone in the room. And as often as other regulars tried to court you, it was all in vain. Very rarely did you bother to give them the time of day. Most of these men were filthy, obnoxious, and rude. But there was something about Levi, something you decided was becoming too much to ignore. He was always so well kempt, so aloof. Why not indulge your curiosity? for just tonight.

Finally, you reached the bar and leaned down, your breasts grazing the surface. "Whiskey, please." You purred to the bartender, your voice low and sultry.

Without another word, you slid onto the bar stool next to him as the man behind the counter poured your drink, your knees brushed against each other as you crossed your legs, sending a wave of desire coursing through the both if you.

Levi glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He took a sip of his drink, and then another, as if to steady his nerves. "You come here often, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. "But you never seem to leave with anyone." He comments.

You smirked, taking a sip of your own drink, "About as often as you." You reply, "and I could say the same, I leave whenever I can manage to slip away, can't a woman enjoy a drink without having to go home with someone?." you continued, raising an eyebrow, your own voice equally husky. He shrugs in response "I'm not judging you, there's fuck all else to do in this shit hole." He says, taking another drink.

"You're Levi, right?" You asked. You weren't sure why you were asking; you already knew who he was. You had seen him here every other night, alone at the corner of the bar. He'd drink a few whiskeys and leave, much like yourself.

The handsome, brooding man in the corner had caught your attention weeks ago, and you knew he was trouble. You had thoroughly enjoyed watching him effortlessly wipe the floor with the owner of the establishment in an arm wrestle. Each and every time you saw one another, there was an exchange of glances from across the room. An unspoken longing that was evident in his gaze.

He nodded, still not taking his eyes off you. "And you must be y/n." he said, his voice rough with desire. "I've seen you here, watching me. I didn't know if you were interested, or just curious...either way, you never try to hide the fact." He smirked.

"Well, I've heard stories about you," you admitted playfully, taking another sip of whiskey. "You're quite the legend, you and your friends, you know that? So I suppose you could say I'm both curious and interested." You tease.

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he drawled, his voice laced with skepticism. "And what have you heard?"

You leaned closer to him, your breath fanning his cheek. "Well, I've heard you're strong, fearless, and loyal to a fault," you said, your voice lowering even further. "They say you're reckless, but I think it's just that you don't know how to back down from a fight." You trail your fingers gently over his knee and slowly up his leg, your face closer still until your lips were millimetres away from his ear. "They say you're nothing but trouble,"

Levi shot you a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. "Funny, they say the same about you." he replies, another sip.

You smiled, feeling a thrill run through you at his words. "They say I'm trouble," you admit, your voice low and sultry. "That I'm always up to something, and that you should stay away from me if you know what's good for you." You rest your head in your hand, tilting it innocently. A playful smile painted accross your lips.

Levi chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your ear. "Well, it seems we've both been given some interesting reputations," he said, his gaze locked on you. "I have to admit, I'm curious. What do you think we should do about that?"

You leaned even closer, your breath tickling his neck. "I think," you whispered, "we should see just how much trouble we can get into together." Your fingers traced circles on his thigh, and he could feel the heat emanating from your body. "Don't you agree, Levi?"

He smirked, knocking back the last of his drink and then set it down on the bar. "I think," he growled, his voice rough with desire, "that we've danced around whatever this is long enough. "

You didn't seem the least bit intimidated, which only served to fuel his curiosity and arousal further as you smirked, standing up and gesturing towards the door.

Without another word, he slid off his stool and followed you out of the bar. The cool night air hit you like a wave as you stepped onto the street. You lit up a cigarette, cupping your hands around it to shield the flickering light. Levi stood beside you, close enough that he could feel the heat from your body, the tip of the glowing red stick illuminating your face in the darkness. Levi took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he watched you exhale smoke into the air.

After some moments, Levi followed your gaze, taking in the darkened alleyway to the left. He grabs your arm, leading you down the alleyway, dropping your cigarette in the process. "What a waste." You complain, your lips curling into a wicked grin as he presses you against the rough brick wall. He reaches out and trails his fingers down your cheek, feeling the softness of your skin beneath his touch. "Finally." He purrs before your your lips meet in a hungry, desperate kiss. Your body pressed against his, hands tangled in his hair, your tongues intertwined, mixing the tastes of alcohol and nicotine. Levi revelles in the curve of your breast against his chest. He pushes you harder against the wall, your lips still locked, bodies grinding together in a frenzy of desire.

A low, guttural groan rumbles in his chest as he presses his body flush against yours, his fingers trailing up your sides. His tongue sweeps in and out of your mouth, urgently exploring, as his kisses grow more demanding. Pulling away slightly, he murmurs against your lips, "Fuck, I've wanted this for so long..." His hands slide down to grip and lift your plush thighs, silently urging you to wrap your legs around him.

Levi lets out a shuddered groan as you wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself against his hardness. His grip tightens on your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Fucking tease," he growls, grinding his hips against you. His lips capture yours in another searing kiss, all tongue and teeth.

One hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the supple flesh as his thumb teases your nipple through the thin fabric. "You have no idea what you do to me," he mutters against your lips, his voice a low, rumbling rasp.

"Oh, I do, Levi...." You moan in between kisses, taking his face into your hands, biting hip lip seductively. "I've seen the way you look at me." A moan escapes you as he tweaks your hard nipple through your dress. "You like these, don't you?" You tease breathlessly.

Levi's eyes darken with desire as he hears your seductive words. "You have no idea," he growls, his fingers kneading your breast with more fervour. His hips grind against your core, the hardness in his pants pressing deliciously against you.

With a low, rumbling chuckle, his hot breath caressing your neck. "These tits drive me wild," he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck. He yanks the dress down, baring your upper body to his hungry gaze. A low, guttural groan rumbles in his chest as he drinks in the sight of your ample breasts. "I'm going to enjoy every inch of you." His teeth graze your neck again, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from your lips. His other hand slides down to grip your rear, pulling you up tighter against him. "But you know what I want even more?"

You throw your head back against the wall and moan as you feel his hard cock through his trousers rubbing against your dampened cunt. "Mmmph, I can take a pretty good guess." you say, rolling your hips again against him suggestively, tightening your legs around his waist.

He smirks as his grip on your hips tightens further, his eyes narrowing with predatory hunger. "I want to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, milking me dry." He hikes up your dress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them aside. "Can you handle that?" he growls, his voice thick with desire. His lips crash against yours again, his tongue plundering your mouth as his hands roam your body.

You nod breathlessly. "Even if I can't, don't stop...." You purr.

Levi's eyes flash with dark desire at your breathless response. His fingers tease your slick folds, coaxing a soft whimper from your lips. "Good girl," he murmurs against your skin, nipping at your neck and travelling diwn to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Without warning, he plunges two digits deep into your quivering heat, curling them to stroke your most sensitive spot. His thumb presses against your swollen clit, rubbing in firm, tantalizing circles. "You're so fucking wet for me, I can't wait to bury my cock in this tight little pussy."

You didn't make a habit of hooking up with men in bars, but something about him made you weak in the knees and you were right to follow your intuition. You bit your lip in an effort to suppress a moan.

Levi's eyes flash with wicked delight at your muffled moans. "Don't be shy now y/n, let me hear you," he growls, his fingers picking up pace as they pump in and out of your slick heat. His thumb presses harder against your swollen nub, drawing out more delicious whimpers. Leaning in close again, he captures your lips in another hungry kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. "You feel so fucking good. I'm going to make you come so hard on my fingers before I split you open on my cock."

"W-what a dirty mouth." You hiss, your eyes rolling upwards blissfully, fingers gripping the undercut at the back of his head harder. He really is as strong as they say, gripping your ass effortlessly and pinning you against the wall while finger fucking you, what a fucking treat.

Levi's lips curve into a devious smirk at your breathless taunt. "Looks to me like you love it," he growls, his fingers curling and thrusting with renewed fervor. "You're fucking soaked. Now come for me, nice and hard." He grinds his palm against your sensitive clit, his piercing gaze fixed intently on your face as he works to bring you to the edge. A man had never made you cum so fast before, Levi's fingers curl and stroke relentlessly as your orgasm crashes over you, your entire body shuddering against him. He swallows your desperate moans with a searing kiss, drinking in every quiver and twitch of your pussy around his digits. "That's it, let it all out," he murmurs roughly against your lips. When your climax finally begins to ebb, he slowly withdraws his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. "Delicious," he growls, his eyes smoldering with dark desire.

Levi's eyes are fixated on you as he watches you guide his hand to your lips before you lick and suck his fingers clean. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest. "Fuck, you're insatiable," he growls, pressing his body flush against yours. His hands grip your hips again, pulling you snug against his straining erection. 

"I need to be inside you," he rasps, his hands gripping your hips possessively. In one swift motion, his fingers deftly work to unfasten his pants, freeing his aching hardness. "Hold onto me," he growls, guiding the tip of his cock to your slick, quivering entrance. With a sharp thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. His eyes fluttering shut as your tight, soaking pussy envelops his aching length. A strangled groan tumbles from his lips as he stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his impressive cock, "So fucking tight..."

Levi's hips begin piston relentlessly, driving his thick cock into your sopping pussy with bruising force. Each powerful thrust punched the breath from your lungs, his cock plumbing your depths. The cold brick wall pressed against your back, but it only seemed to heighten the sensation of being so close to him. He grunted and growled with primal satisfaction, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips. "That's it, fucking take it all," he rasped, his voice dripping with lust. "Your greedy cunt is loving this...." His pace grew more erratic as he neared the edge, desperate to find his own release.

Levi's grip on your hips remains tight, pounding into you with deep, relentless thrusts. His breath comes in ragged gasps, mingling with your desperate moans.

Levi's calloused hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the alleyway. His steel-gray eyes blaze with primal hunger, locked on your face as he drinks in every pleasured moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips.

"Cum all over my cock, I want to feel you dripping down my thighs." He states as his fingers find your clit, rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure.

"Levi," You moan breathlessly, arching your back as your body tensed, ready to explode.

Levi felt your muscles clench around him, your walls rippling as they contracted, your breath hitching in your throat. He thrust deeper, harder, faster as he felt the hot rush of your release, the tightening of your inner muscles around him. He groaned into your neck, feeling your body shudder with the force of your orgasm.

Levi's eyes are fixated on you as you convulse around his throbbing length, your desperate cries of pleasure sending a jolt of primal satisfaction through him. With a feral growl, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his hips against yours at a punishing pace as he chases his own release.

Levi leans in, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss as his rhythm begins to falter, his muscles tensing as the thick ropes of his release spill deep inside you. "Fuck... Levi!" you whimper against his lips, his hips grinding into you as he empties himself completely.

Levi's taut frame shudders, his fingers digging into your hips as he rides out the aftershocks of his release. His steel-gray eyes are molten with satisfaction, his usually stoic features etched with unbridled bliss.

You both remained there for a moment, panting, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. The alleyway seemed to swirl around you as you came to your senses. You leaned your head back against the rough brick wall, feeling the coolness seep into your flushed skin.

"So," mischievous glint in your eye, "you ready for more trouble?"

Levi grinned, his gaze travelling up and down your body. "Only if it comes in the form of you."

You smirk playfully, feeling a thrill of excitement run through you. "My place, it's not far from here." You managed to say between ragged breaths. "Lead the way," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You laughed the sound low and husky. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. "Come on then, you bad, bad boy. Let's go."