#wavy tresses

[gigivas]

Rima Zahara: Slyly Scrutinizing, A Woven Gaze Unraveled

Stable Diffusion series

POSITIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following) Charcoal and graphite elegantly encapsulate a Lebanese-style young adult woman with natural waves hairstyle, dressed in a crochet top, eyes narrowing in a playful glare, head tilted downwards, gazing at another in this captivating head profile portrait shot. Gracefully shaded, showcasing intricate facial expressions, maintaining a minimalistic yet expressive attribute, spotlighting the eyes, embracing a monochromatic theme, and accentuating gentle contours, all as an echo of her captivating persona and emotions.

NEGATIVE PROMPTS (Copy the following) full body shot, light, vibrant, colorful, simplistic, minimalism, plain, simple, bokeh, blurry, blur, industrial, mechanical, geometric patterns, emotionless, boring, worst quality, low quality, normal quality, lowres, low details, oversaturated, undersaturated, overexposed, underexposed, grayscale, bw, bad photo, bad photography, bad art, watermark, signature, text font, username, error, logo, words, letters, digits, autograph, trademark, name, grainy, ugly, asymmetrical, poorly lit, bad shadow, draft, cropped, out of frame, cut off, censored, jpeg artifacts, out of focus, glitch, duplicate, nsfw, deformed, noisy, blurry, distorted, low contrast, dull, plain, modest, cleavage, asymmetrical eyes, signature, watermark, text, word, logo

(Note: Positive and negative prompts can instantly make you an AI drawing expert. Applicable to almost all AI drawing platforms and software that support input of positive and negative prompts. For example, all Stable Diffusion platforms, DreamStudio.ai, Craiyon.com, Leonardo.ai, etc.)

Midjourney v6 (Copy the following) /imagine prompt: This close-up charcoal-inspired portrait presents a Lebanese young adult woman with a natural waves hairstyle, adorned in a traditional crochet top. She playfully squints her eyes in a mock glare, her head slightly angled downwards as she engages with an unseen subject. Expertly executed in charcoal and graphite techniques, the artwork demonstrates subtle shading and intricate facial expressions that effectively display her layered emotions. Employing a minimalist yet expressive approach, the portrait prioritizes her captivating eyes within a monochrome backdrop and gentle lines that resonate with her character and feelings. Soft, ambient lighting permeates the scene, enriching the contemplative atmosphere created by the close-up portrayal of her subtly angled visage., --ar 2:3 --v 6

(Note: At https://docs.midjourney.com/docs/parameter-list, you will learn the details of how to personalize Midjourney parameters, but for now we have configured them for you.)

DALL-E 3 (Copy the following) In this intriguing portrait, a young Lebanese woman showcases her allure with a natural waves hairstyle, accentuating her beauty. Clad in a traditional crochet top, she evokes an air of cultural refinement. Her mock glare, featuring squinting eyes and a tilted head, captivates the observer, drawing them into her playful side. Recalling the allure of charcoal and graphite masterworks, the portrait is thoughtfully shaded, accentuating her expressive visage. Adopting a minimalist yet evocative aesthetic, the image zeroes in on her compelling eyes, framed by a monochrome backdrop. The soft contours of her face reveal her personality and feelings, heightened by the gentle, illuminating light that enhances the introspective ambiance. This closely framed perspective invites viewers to intimately engage with her enigmatic world.

(Note: Prompts for OpenAI DALL-E 3 also apply to any AI drawing platform that does not require entering negative prompt words, such as Microsoft Copilot Designer, Adobe Firefly, Canva.com, etc.)

[deanpinterester]

for my next sewing project (after my pj set) i want to recreate alina's ethereal nightgown (i have the fabric already stocked up and everything) but first i want to make stays (not really historically accurate to tsarist russia but i want to make one ok) and also an undershirt gown (or whatever they're called) so i can feel super fancy

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[pin-k-ink]

ohmygodohmygod i absolutely LOVED your kuroo fic!!!

and i’ve an idea for another one if you wanna write it. how about kuroo with a really clumsy classmate of his, and they both inevitably end up in really awkward and borderline sexual situations because of it? kinda like a crack fic

convenient // kuroo tetsuro

tw ⇢ clumsy!reader, highly suggestive content, mild sexual tension, fluff, sexual jokes, kuroo is kind of a perv

wc ⇢ 5.1k

a/n: this was heavily inspired by prison school for some reason (yes i watched it 💀)

The first time it happened, it really was just an honest mistake - one that earned Kuroo Tetsuro a well-deserved slap across the face. In his defense, he had been utterly oblivious, mind preoccupied with an upcoming English exam. But that was still no excuse for his careless actions.

He was headed to the library, books and notes tucked under one arm, when a faint shuffling sound drew his gaze upwards. There you were, standing atop a narrow ladder while stretching to reach a book on the upper shelves. Your skirt rode dangerously high with the effort, teetering just shy of outright indecency.

Kuroo felt his eyes widen as he froze mid-step, suddenly hyper-aware of the sleek lines of your legs extending from the rumpled plaid hem. He knew he should look away, avert his stare like any decent guy. But something insidious seemed to glue his feet to the floor, leaving him gawking shamelessly.

That's when disaster struck - literally.

One minute you were straining on tiptoe, back arched enticingly as you strained for your target book. The next, your knee brushed the ladder rung with a faint clang of disturbance. Like a switched had been flipped, the whole structure began wavering treacherously beneath your weight.

You let out a strangled yelp of surprise, arms wheeling wildly in a frantic bid to regain your balance. But it was too late, your slight figure already pitching backwards in a clumsy free-fall towards the unforgiving floor.

Pure instinct propelled Kuroo into action at that moment. Letting his books and papers scatter, he lunged forward with the lightning reflexes of a seasoned athlete. His arms locked around your trim waist just as your feet left the ladder rungs entirely, effectively folding you in half to break your plummet.

You collapsed against his chest in a breathless heap, wavy tresses askew and skirt bundled scandalously around your hips from the abrupt tumble. Kuroo's throat went dry as he found himself confronted with an utterly unobstructed view of your lacy black panties, tight across the supple flesh of your ass and leaving precious little to the imagination.

A tremor rocked his muscles before Kuroo could fully process the provocative situation. His lips parted on a low, strangled sound - was that a whistle or a whimper? - while you stirred groggily in his arms.

That's when realization finally dawned in your wide eyes. You took one look at the flustered volleyball captain gaping down at you and the disheveled state of your uniform, and let out an earsplitting yelp of mortification.

"You...you pervert!"

The resounding crack of your palm across Kuroo's cheek rang out like a gunshot. He reeled back, stunned, as you leapt from his arms and frantically rearranged your rumpled skirt. With a last scandalized glare, you scooped up your books and scurried away down the hall, leaving a flabbergasted Kuroo cradling his stinging jaw.

As he stooped to collect his scattered belongings, the dark-haired captain could only shake his head ruefully, pointedly ignoring the snickers of passing students. He supposed he deserved that one.

Though admittedly, politely keeping his eyes averted would be a monumental challenge going forward if you insisted on being so...distracting around him.

Little did Kuroo know, that was only the beginning of many chaotic encounters with you to come.

After that mortifying library incident, Kuroo thought he would at least get a brief respite from any further awkward run-ins with you. He figured you'd be actively avoiding him out of lingering embarrassment for the foreseeable future. The captain wasn't quite sure whether to feel relieved or oddly disappointed by that prospect.

However, fate seemed to have other plans entirely when it came to tormenting Kuroo with suggestive happenstance around you. If anything, the unlucky encounters only escalated from that point onwards.

It happened again only a few days later. Kuroo was making his way to afternoon English practice after lessons when a commotion from a nearby classroom gave him pause. He distinctly heard a muffled yelp of surprise followed by a clatter like someone knocking into a desk.

Curiosity piqued, he backtracked and peered through the open door to find you in the midst of a graceless struggle. From his vantage point, it looked like you'd caught your knee on a protruding desk lip in the middle of gathering your belongings, upending everything to the floor.

"Need some help?" The words slipped out before Kuroo could reconsider.

You jolted at the sound of his voice, clearly not expecting company. Whipping around revealed your position - bent over at the waist, arms crossed over the desktop as you'd been trying in vain to catch your spilled notebooks and papers before they scattered.

Kuroo felt his throat go instantly dry at the view you presented. With your torso tilted parallel to the ground, he had an unobstructed line of sight directly down the stretched vee of your blouse to the lacy enclosure of your bra. He immediately averted his stare with a sharp inhalation, but the wiggling shift of your body as you tried to right yourself didn't do him any favors.

"O-Oh, hey Kuroo!" You squeaked out, voice pitched just a bit too high as you straightened hastily. You seemed to belatedly realize the disheveled state of your clothes and ran flustered hands over your rioting skirt. "No, I'm okay! Just a bit of a tussle with gravity, as usual."

You laughed in that slightly too high, breathless cadence that told Kuroo you were just as aware of the precarious display as he'd been. Still, he appreciated your nonchalant attempt to smooth over the awkwardness as you bent to collect the remainder of your fallen supplies.

"You sure?" He risked another glance, disappointed satisfied to find your skirt had returned to normal propriety if still slightly rumpled. "I can grab the janitor if you need any cleaning supplies or anything..."

"No, no! Really, I'm fine. But uh, thanks for the offer." You gave a tight smile, clutching your armful of books to your chest.

Kuroo nodded slowly, unable to resist one last sweeping look over your flustered appearance - wild hair askew, cheeks dusted with pink, chest still rising and falling a bit rapidly. Yep...you were still cute as hell, even after catching him gawking like a perverted creep twice now.

"Don't mention it. Just figured I'd lend a hand after providing such quality-eye entertainment lately." He tossed you a wink, mouth kicking up at the corner as your blush deepened.

"You're terrible," you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. But he could've sworn your lips twitched towards a smile as you spun on your heel and strutted from the classroom with as much dignity as you could muster.

Kuroo watched your departing form fondly, scratching at the nape of his neck. "That's me," he agreed under his breath, unable to resist one last admiring glance towards the sway of your hips.

Yes, he would definitely have to be more careful about where he let his gaze stray going forward. Especially if you insisted on continually providing such tantalizing...viewing opportunities for him.

The empty classroom should have been a safe haven for you to gather your thoughts during your free period. With no other students around, you had seized the opportunity to get some fresh air by cracking open one of the large windows overlooking the courtyard.

In retrospect, leaning your entire upper body out of that window may have been ill-advised.

You had been so absorbed in the tranquil view outside, relishing the crisp breeze skating across your face, that you failed to notice your skirt catching and riding up precariously on the window's edge behind you. By the time you registered the precarious situation, it was already too late.

"What the...?" You frowned, twisting your torso in an attempt to dislodge yourself.

But the more you struggled, the more hopelessly ensnared you became - skirt now thoroughly rumpled and bunched around your hips, leaving your backside shockingly exposed to the empty classroom behind you in a way that would make any vice principal blush.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cheeks burning as you tried in vain to somehow wrangle the stubborn fabric free without outright removing the entire garment and mooning the entire courtyard below. If only you had a personal contortionist on hand...

The telltale creak of the door opening behind you nearly made you swallow your tongue.

"Hey, have you seen my--" The deep timbre of Kuroo's unmistakable voice faltered. "Oh. Uh...need a hand?"

You could practically hear the poorly suppressed grin in his tone without even turning around - not that you could move much in your current trapped position. Your mortification mounted by the second, shoulders ticking up towards your burning ears.

"Don't just stand there!" You hissed through gritted teeth, face on proverbial fire. "Get over here and help me already!"

"I don't know, you seem to have a pretty good view as is," Kuroo drawled, bitter amusement coating every syllaible. But you heard his footsteps start to cross the classroom regardless.

"Don't you dare look, or so help me--"

"I'm just here to provide whatever assistance a gentleman can for a stuck damsel," he interjected solemnly, though you could still hear the laughter staining his tone.

Another teasing brush of warm fingertips skating up your exposed thigh made you suck in a sharp breath, muscles taut. But then Kuroo was deftly tugging at the tangled fabric, trying to work it free from where it had fully wedged against the unforgiving metal window frame.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter as he crouched behind you, hot puffs of his steady breathing ghosting along the back of your bare thighs. The tips of his nails occasionally scraped lightly against your sensitized skin whenever he shifted his grip for better leverage.

Each inadvertent caress sent tingles of heat blossoming across your body, completely at odds with the unrelenting chill of the open window pressed against your ribs. You worried your lower lip between your teeth, trying to stomp down the unwelcome flutters plaguing your gut and attribute them solely to your mortifying predicament.

"Almost there," Kuroo grunted, leaning in so close you could smell the crisp, clean scent of his laundry detergent and body wash. "Just need to...tug this bit..."

"Wait, no--!"

Your panicked warning was too late. With a sharp yank on the stubborn fabric, both of you inadvertently went tumbling backwards in a graceless heap - your skirt ripping free only for the rest of you to promptly crash down squarely on Kuroo's unsuspecting face.

You couldn't quite muffle the startled yelp that rattled up from your chest as you landed in a sprawl of flailing limbs. One blink and suddenly you found yourself pitched backwards, legs splayed shamelessly as your butt settled...right on top of Kuroo's stunned features, mashing against his mouth and nose.

The smothered grunt of surprise punched out from under you was enough to send you flailing away with a choked shriek of mortification, scuttling across the floor like a deranged crab. Your face felt like it was legitimately searing clean off your skull, a condition likely mirrored by Kuroo's own rapidly purpling complexion.

"Ohmygod, Kuroo!" You wheezed out, one trembling hand lifting reflexively to cover your gaping mouth as he finally levered upright. "I am so, sosorry! Are you okay? Please, please tell me you can breathe!"

The captain dragged in a harsh gulp of air, chest heaving, before slowly lifting his burning gaze to your stricken one. Despite the deep flush marring his features, Kuroo's eyes glittered suspiciously.

"Well..." he rasped out with a lopsided, infinitely amused smirk. "Can't say I was expecting that kind of face-sitting from you today, but I can't really complain about the view..."

You released a mortified squawk, yanking the hem of your skirt down with furious tugs. There was no way this wasn't some fresh new hell custom designed by the vindictive heavens just to torment your battered pride around Kuroo Tetsuro.

Honestly, at this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if the boy ended up permanently bowlegged with how many compromising visuals you'd inadvertently provided him.

Kuroo sucked in a deep, steadying breath as he watched you scurry from the classroom, skirt mercifully back in place and face still blazing crimson. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperately trying to un-see the compromising visuals now seared into his brain.

There was simply no unseeing the full, unobstructed view he'd gotten of your lace-edged panties and plump backside when you'd so brazenly...well, sat on his face in your wild scramble. His cheeks flushed anew just recalling it - the softness and warmth pressed against his lips, the sweet floral scent overwhelming his senses.

He shouldn't be thinking those kinds of things about you. Kuroo was keenly aware you were just his animated, disaster-prone classmate who always seemed to catch the brunt of humiliating mishaps whenever he was around. Lingering too long on the intimate peeks he'd been granted felt like a violation of the unspoken boundaries between you two.

And yet...

Kuroo found his tongue instinctively swiping across his lower lip, unconsciously chasing some lingering remnant of your taste and scent. The memory of having your feminine curves crushed against his face, even if unintentionally, made his throat run dry with unexpected yearning. He couldn't deny the spark of illicit heat that quickly blazed low in his belly.

With a groan, Kuroo scrubbed both hands through his perpetually tousled hair, tugging at the roots in mild self-admonishment. These were dangerous thoughts to entertain, no matter how attractive and alluring you were as a person. Especially given how mortified you always seemed by the accidental incidents that kept transpiring.

You clearly weren't trying to tease or torment him on purpose. If anything, you seemed just as eager to flee from the awkward tension as he was to diffuse it with irreverent jokes or nonchalant shrugs. No, the burden was his alone to bear - this one-sided battle to wrangle his steadily growing interest every time your bodies collided in such intimate, pulse-spiking ways.

Decision made, Kuroo rose to his feet with a grunt, gathering his scattered belongings. Blowing out a harsh breath, he willed away the lingering flashes of tempting visuals and straightened his spine. Yes, from now on he would simply have to be more vigilant about avoiding you as much as possible. The less he let himself get pulled into these compromising, hormone-addling situations, the better his self-control would remain intact.

It was a sound strategy, he decided with a decisive nod. One that would hopefully spare you both from any further prolonged torment or humiliation down the line.

At least, that was the theory. But as Kuroo quickly learned over the next few days and encounters, the universe seemed to have vastly different plans in regard to continually tormenting him...and you.

It happened during one of their last shared classes of the week - a study hall period Kuroo typically used for reviewing game recordings or getting a jumpstart on his homework. He had just opened up his laptop in the back corner of the room to cue up the latest match footage when an odd scuffling noise drew his attention.

Craning his neck towards the broad windows lining the far wall revealed you standing precariously on your tiptoes atop a wobbly chair, arms stretched high overhead as you attempted to tug open the painted seam where the glass panes met. Kuroo frowned as he watched your feet slip and clothes rustle with the effort. Just what were you doing?

Another loud thud followed by a growl of frustration was all the prompting he needed. With a quiet sigh, Kuroo pushed back from his seat and began weaving between the desks, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Might as well get this over with before your usual antics ended in another cringe-worthy incident for them both...

"Need a hand down there, short stuff?" He called out in a low, lazy drawl as he approached.

You startled at the unexpected voice, petite form going rigid against the window. Kuroo watched your shoulders lift in a sharp inhalation before you slowly risked peering over one toned shoulder, likely looking for the source of the amused rumble.

"Kuroo?" You squeaked out warily, like just speaking his name might somehow summon a fresh round of mortifying events. "What are you doing over here?"

"Probably the same thing you are," he replied with a one-shouldered shrug, gesturing up at the window with his chin. "Except, you know, without the hazardous chair-scaling routine. Don't you think it'd be easier if you just asked for help rather than risking life and limb like that?"

If looks could incinerate, he surely would have combusted on the spot from the narrow-eyed glare you shot his way. But after a long, weighted pause, you finally seemed to relent with a quiet huff.

"Fine, but you'd better not just be offering as some lame excuse to look up my skirt again."

The blunt dig might have landed more soundly if your cheeks weren't already pinkening, giving away your embarrassment. Kuroo simply arched one thick brow, catching his lower lip between his teeth to tamp down the reflexive grin trying to emerge.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Kuroo replied easily, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "I'm an innocent bystander here, just trying to lend my services to a damsel flirting with danger."

You leveled him with one final skeptical look before huffing out a reluctant, "Fine. But make it quick before I end up with a concussion or something."

Turning away, you resumed straining on tiptoe, arms outstretched overhead as you blindly grappled for some elusive purchase. Kuroo's gaze was immediately drawn to the wanton stretching pulling your blouse taut against the feminine swell of your chest, outlining your figure in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Clearing his throat roughly, he quickly closed the remaining distance between you and maneuvered himself up onto the chair behind you. His larger frame automatically shielded your bent posture as he reached up past your extended arms to easily unlatch the window's stubborn latch.

The rush of cool evening air that filtered in carried the scent of freshly mown grass and distant woodsmoke, ruffling the loose strands framing your face. You let out a breathless little giggle, grinning over your shoulder up at Kuroo with unguarded delight crinkling your features.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" You teased lightly. "I knew your freakish height would come in handy someday."

Kuroo felt his lips twitch towards a matching smile despite himself. There was just something wildly endearing about the way your nose scrunched when you laughed like that, uninhibited and suffused with mirth. He suddenly found himself in the odd position of fighting off a powerful wave of affection swelling in his chest.

Which is precisely when you chose to twist around fully on the chair, effectively trapping Kuroo between your parted thighs with nowhere to go as you beamed up at him. His breath stuttered in his throat, smile slipping as his abdomen lined up dangerously close to your lower body's soft warmth.

"Thanks for always being around to help me out, by the way," you continued blithely, seemingly unaware of the sudden charged tension. "I really would be a walking hazard without you."

Your words trailed off into another peal of laughter, palms sliding smoothly up Kuroo's chest until they bracketed his shoulders. He could feel the delicate pressure of your fingertips like searing brands through the thin material of his shirt as your gazes locked mere inches apart.

Inside his head, Kuroo's thoughts had devolved into a deafening roar of white noise, every higher brain function shorting out at the proximity of your body heat and sweet, floral scent. All he could focus on was the painted bow of your parted lips, the inviting dip of your collarbones on display beneath your rumpled shirt collar. The burning urge to tilt his head down and taste your smile, to growl and tug you flush against his body, made his fingers twitch convulsively at his sides.

Don't...don't do something stupid and reckless that you'll regret, his voice of reason feebly protested even as your hands slid upwards to cup his jaw with unexpected tenderness. You were so close now that your noses brushed, breath mingling in a humid cloud between your suspended states. Kuroo's heart felt lodged in his throat, pounding staccato against his ribs.

Your thumbs drifted in unconscious, idle strokes along the sharp line of his cheekbones, mesmerizing him further second by second. Instinctively, he bent towards your addictive pull before managing to firmly re-root himself with the last scraps of logic screaming at him to stop.

"That's enough...personal space for today, yeah?" He somehow wrangled enough control to whisper out, the words emerging gritty and strained but underscored with determination. "Why don't we, uh, get you down from there before round two starts sounding fun?"

You blinked rapidly at that, almost as though snapping back to yourself. For a heartbeat, Kuroo could've sworn he glimpsed something like disappointment flickering in your eyes' depths. But then you were nodding brusquely, pulling your hands away to twist back towards the now open window.

The cold rush of oxygen hitting his lungs made Kuroo almost dizzy with a sense of vertigo, like he'd been holding his breath for an eternity underwater. What the hell had just happened? And more alarmingly...why was a part of him wishing it hadn't stopped?

He shook his head to clear the loaded thoughts before resignedly offering you his hands, acting as a brace while you stepped down from the chair. Your fingers curled around his in a warm, tingling grip as you maneuvered yourself to the floor, back deliberately angled away from Kuroo to avert any further...viewing opportunities.

The moment your feet touched down, the odd tension frayed, allowing you both to sink back into familiar patterns and put some merciful distance between your bodies once more.

"Thanks again, Kuroo," you said with a demure smile over one shoulder, brushing past him towards the exit. "See you around sometime soon, I'm sure."

The parting words carried a strange, wistful lilt, warranting another glance from Kuroo's hooded gaze. You didn't linger, simply ambling away from the classroom as effortlessly as you'd arrived, leaving a bewildered captain in your wake.

Kuroo glowered at your retreating back even as something sharp and insistent tugged in his chest at the sight. Whatever this maddening back-and-forth dynamic was between you two, it was rapidly spiraling into something wild and untamed, something that was getting harder and harder to ignore or dismiss...

A growl of mingled frustration rumbled up from the back of his throat before he could stifle it. So much for avoiding temptation and keeping his resolve intact around you. Every time he tried to disengage, the universe seemed to drag you both screaming right back into each other's gravitic pull once more.

Movements taut with consternation, Kuroo sank back into his abandoned desk chair and scrubbed both hands along his face. He couldn't keep doing this endless dance around you, careening between flirtatious banter and breathless disaster without snapping entirely. Something had to give soon before one of you combusted outright.

His palms dug into his eye sockets as a growl rumbled up from somewhere deep in his gut. Yeah...no one ever said being a horny teenage disaster was easy, did they?

The next mishap occurred barely a week later, this time at one of Nekoma's volleyball practices. You had developed a habit of swinging by the gym to catch portions of the team's training sessions whenever your schedule allowed. Kuroo suspected it was equal parts keeping tabs on him and cheering on a couple of your other classmates in the club.

Whatever the reason, he certainly wasn't complaining about the prospect of you watching him glistening with sweat, muscles straining as he launched himself into blistering spikes and ferocious blocks. Even if he adamantly refused to let his gaze linger overlong on your distracting presence courtside.

On this particular evening, the squad was running spike drills, taking turns performing powerful straight-shot hits off the tossed sets. As captain, Kuroo was overseeing the rotations, calling out adjustments and keeping the tempo sharp.

You were perched on the bottom bleacher row, eyes tracking each impactful exchange while gnawing absentmindedly on your thumbnail. Kuroo couldn't resist a few sidelong admiring glances as each powerful leap and arcing jump serve pulled the fabric of his athletic shorts taut against his tensing thighs.

When his turn in the rotation came up again, he was waiting squarely in position, knees bent in preparation to launch upwards and meet the tossed ball. The second coach Naoi’s fingers left the leather, Kuroo exploded off the hardwood into his ferocious spike approach.

Except a sudden shuffling noise off to his left periphery made him falter, just a split-second of lost focus as he whipped his head towards the disturbance. Just in time to see you had risen to your feet and were now bent over at the waist, gripping the railing as you shimmied and shook your hips in some strange calisthenics-esque motion.

Kuroo choked on his own inhale as he inadvertently tracked the mesmerizing movements, torn between drinking in the wanton swish of your skirt tails and avoiding a deadly incoming projectile straight to his face. His abort in midair was clumsy, causing him to land wrong and crumple gracelessly to the varnished court in an undignified sprawl.

"Oof!"

A chorus of snickers rose from his teammates as the commotion made the remaining players pause their drills. Kuroo lay there stunned for a beat, cheeks flushed, before slowly craning his neck to relocate the source of his fall.

You were still bent over the railing, fortunately oblivious to your wardrobe's indecent riding up from the hip shimmies. But you had turned towards the court fully with one hand clutched to your mouth, stifling what Kuroo belatedly recognized as peals of laughter.

"Nice form there, Captain," Yaku called out with a barking laugh.

Kuroo shot the smirking player a dirty look as he levered himself upright, grimacing at the dull throb in his elbow and side from the impromptu meeting with the floor. When he chanced another glance towards the bleachers, you seemed to have gotten your giggling under control but your eyes were still alight with barely restrained mirth.

"Did you just...belly flop during a drill?" You managed to ask between lingering huffs of hilarity.

"I got distracted," Kuroo grumbled, swiping his wrist across his sweaty brow as he straightened to his full height.

Your giggles ramped back up, louder and utterly uninhibited by the audience of players now freely gawking between you two. Kuroo felt a muscle in his jaw tick with repressed...something. Embarrassment, arousal, or some heady combination thereof.

On impulse, he started stalking towards where you were doubled over the railing, each thump of his shoes against the glossy court unnaturally loud. You glanced up just as his shadow fell over you, giggles sputtering off into silence as you registered the abrupt proximity.

Kuroo halted a scant few inches away, towering over you with his lips pressed into a tight line and hair hanging shaggily in his face. Your own pupils blew wider in response to his sudden looming, cheeks flushed and lips still parted mid-laughter.

Without giving his reckless impulse another second to dissipate, Kuroo bent abruptly at the waist, eliminating the final bare slivers of distance between you. His mouth slanted over yours in a heated, insistent press before you could so much as draw a shocked breath.

For one wild, dizzying heartbeat, the entire world collapsed inwards to the shocking velvet glide of his lips coaxing yours into sliding open. The taste of you exploded across his senses, sweet and addictive like warm honey, making Kuroo's head spin.

Then just as abruptly as he lunged in, he broke away, straightening up with a ragged inhale as if surfacing from underwater. Your face was frozen in an expression of pure, open-mouthed shock, the most delicious shade of crimson blooming in your cheeks as you stared up at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

Kuroo licked his tingling lips, tasting the lingering tang of you there. He didn't dare inch closer and risk shattering the suspended tension. Instead, he simply held your stunned, searching gaze with heavy-lidded certainty.

The sudden spirited whooping and raucous catcalls from his oblivious teammates barely penetrated the electric charge now crackling between your locked stares. Kuroo arched one brow slowly, the ghost of a smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

"We'll call it even for now," was all he said, pitching his voice to be heard only by you.

With that parting remark, he spun on his heel and rejoined the still-chortling huddle of players like a man exiting the eye of the storm. But even with his back turned, he could sense the weight of your speechless, burning stare piercing between his shoulderblades.

A shiver traced his spine, raising the fine hairs along his nape. Oh yes, there would be more fallout and confrontation to come over that impulse. Kuroo could practically taste the promise of it lingering on his tongue.

And when the explosion inevitably came...he suddenly couldn't wait.

[mrsoharaa]

Giggling while drunkenly, messily, making out with Miguel is what I could use right about now ngl. 😔

一 ✿

Like you both just return home from a vibrant, lovely fun night out. A few drinks in and neither of you can get your needy hands off from one another.

His large, rough palms would roam up and down the venture of your curvy body, while yours trace up and down the strut of his firm, wide chest to the vast structure of his broad shoulders. Eventually your little fingers would curl up into the back hairs of his beautiful chestnut tresses.

His hungry lips would messily lap over yours with such inaccuracy and drive, sloppily mangling over yours and tripping occasionally over his large feet while still latching onto your hips. You'd break out into small fits of genuine giggles, feeling his warm full lips constantly try to stick onto your own, only to feel them slip past the velvety skin on either onto your flushed cheeks or your cute chin.

Your nails would weave gently into his wavy strands, tucking and tugging playfully as his frustrated grumbles would seep against your warm, soft flesh. Adding on to the cute little chortles that erupt from you. He's too cute.

His looming body would pin your back against the wall by the door.

"M-Miguel- you're b-being too *hic* frantic" you'd hiccup a small chuckle, feeling the warmth of his plush lips crease into the juncture of your jawline and neck. His hot breath permeating into the lush of your simulated skin.

"¡Ay, coño!...n-not frantic enough" his words slur out into rambled mumblings, hands pushing you more steadily, firmly against the solidity of the wall behind you, hips connecting with yours as his lips gradually find their way to the corner of your own. You'd simply giggle at his retort.

Heaves out another heavy, hot breath as he ghosts his lips just centimeters away from yours. Lidded irises of deep scarlet lazily, longingly, gazing down at you. Watching and noting every simple, little detail that was you.

Raises his left hand up to drape steadily around the structure of your neck, keeping you still against his weighted figure and the wall nestled behind you. Your hazy eyes finally meet his, a shimmer of intoxicated desire and endearment drowning your beautiful optics.

"Such a pretty l-laugh...you're so p-pretty, mi araña bonita" his breath husks heftily, leaning in closer to you as he pushes at the back of your neck to mold into his fevered lips. Strongly.

With added friction and steady firmness, Miguel made sure that his lips stayed connected with yours at all times. Swindling his tongue into the moisten cavern of your mouth, as he hums in delight to your acceptance for his sudden intrusion. His heart plummets every time he listens to a genuine giggle or muffled moan resonate from the depths of your throat.

Makes him become more needy and touchy with you.

[shadowdaddies]

I have another request! Your writing is just amazing.

Would love an Az x reader where she knows they are mates but doesn’t tell him because she can’t have kids and she thinks he will reject it if he finds out. So she starts pulling away or gets upset or something and then the bond snaps for him and he is confused as to why she doesn’t want it.

She finally tells him and thinks he will reject her because of it but it goes from angst to fluff and he’s all cute and says she is all he wants and he doesn’t care. Happy ending

thank you so much lovely! I love your requests, I think they're perfect for Az

All I've Ever Needed

Azriel x Reader

Leaned over the balcony, you swirled the champagne in your glass as the stars began to shoot across the sky, bathing Velaris in ethereal light. The quiet scuff of boots sounded next to you, a smile gracing your lips as you thought about the only person who would wear boots to Starfall.

Glancing up, you were met with hazel eyes, golden in this light as they focused on you. “You’re missing the show,” you nodded to the skyline in front of you.

“Am I?” Azriel murmured, so quiet you hardly heard him. Still, his gaze turned towards the sky, a comfortable silence wrapping around the pair of you like a warm blanket on this cold early Spring evening.

Azriel turned back towards you, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak when a rogue spirit soared towards him, glowing pale green light splattering throughout his onyx hair. Your laugh echoed loudly through the open night air, bringing a rare, broad smile to Azriel’s lips. His face lit up brighter than the stars that glowed like a halo around him, and the snap in your chest as the universe pulled you towards him was undeniable.

Breathless, you clutched your chest as emotions swirled within you. Mate, my mate, your heart chanted, as Azriel’s hand began to reach for yours. A high-pitched giggle sounded from below, interrupting the moment as little Nyx ran towards you.

“Uncle Azzy!” the toddler squealed in delight, laughter ringing through the air as Azriel lifted his nephew into his broad arms. “You have stars in your hair,” the small boy noted, chubby fingers reaching to tug on Azriel’s wavy tresses. 

Azriel shook his head, Nyx laughing as stardust sprinkled all around the both of them. “There, now you have stars too,” Az murmured, setting Nyx back down for the child to run into Feyre’s arms. 

“Happy Starfall,” she greeted you with a kiss to your cheek before turning to Azriel, a soft laugh leaving the High Lady as Nyx eagerly reached back for Azriel once more. “You are so good with him,” Feyre noted to Az, grinning at the shadowsinger’s blush from her compliment. “I can’t wait to see you with children of your own one day.”

The perfect bubble of this evening burst. Heart dropping, the skies of Velaris now a shattered snow globe as you registered Feyre’s words. Neither she or Azriel knew what you’d learned long ago from Madja, that you would never be able to bear children. 

And now, as you watched Azriel’s blush deepen, your mate smiling while he played with his nephew, you realized how cruel the Cauldron must be for your mate to be someone you could never satisfy. Setting down your flute of champagne, you excused yourself as you abandoned not only the party, but any chance you’d hoped for with Azriel.

Months passed as you ignored the shadowsinger, ignored the way your heart called to him, how much you missed his kindness and friendship. Being the understanding person that he was, Azriel didn’t push you, didn’t try to force you when he noticed you distancing yourself. It somehow hurt more, knowing that the person who understood you most was still there, giving you the space you needed despite how much you wanted to run into his arms. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, tell him how much you loved him, trap him by telling that you were his mate when you could never give him the children he evidently wanted.

Walking down the streets of the Rainbow, Mor pressured you about Azriel’s birthday. “I know you two aren’t as close, and I won’t push about it, but you are going to his birthday tonight aren’t you?” 

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you deliberated the question you’d been asking yourself for the past several weeks. “Of course I’ll go, Mor. We are still friends,” you promised, knowing that as much as you might dread this evening, missing Azriel’s birthday would cause too many issues among your family.

Mor left you alone, headed to meet Feyre at the art studio. You walked down the street, looking in the windows of art galleries and clothiers when something pulled you towards a small jewelry shop. You heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed the silver ring in the window, a small cobalt blue gem in the center. 

You opened the door without thinking, your feet guiding you to where the jewelry sat in its display. The shopkeeper approached you, her kind green eyes twinkling as she looked between you and the ring.

“That is a beautiful piece. I’ve seen several males pass by admiring it. And we can do same-day engraving,” she spoke, her velvet voice thinly veiling her eagerness to make the sale. 

As the idea came to you, you flashed her a smile. “I’ll take it.”

Hands shaking with nerves, you shyly maneuvered through the doorway to the River House, gift in hand as you made your way to the living room where your family was gathered. Mor approached you first, blonde hair flying as she ran towards you to wrap you in a hug. Handing you a drink, she looped her arm in yours, guiding you to the center of the room where you set the gift on the table.

Hazel eyes bored into you, Azriel staring unabashedly as he approached. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, a lump in his throat as he looked over the gauzy lavender dress you donned. “You look beautiful.”

Blushing under his attention, you willed your heart to stop pounding against your chest as you spoke. “Of course. Happy birthday, Azriel,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning to greet the others.

Near the end of the evening, everyone was enjoying the beautiful cake Elain had prepared when Mor giddily clapped her hands. “Presents, now!” she demanded, shoving her own gift into Azriel’s hands. Azriel unwrapped the present, pink paper torn apart to reveal a pair of green, fuzzy earmuffs. “They’re to match the scarf I got you last Solstice!” Mor exclaimed, clearly proud of herself for such a thoughtful gift.

Azriel gave her a polite smile and a thank you, moving to unwrap the next gifts. From Cassian and Nesta, a new pair of boots, since apparently once of the Valkyries had thrown up on his other pair during training last week. From Feyre and Rhys, he was given a painting - a memory of the annual snowball fight from the last year, with Nyx included. 

“Who is this from?” Azriel asked, holding up the small box with blue paper and black ribbon. You shyly raised your hand, a nervous smile on your face as Azriel’s eyes softened. “Thank you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. 

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” you retorted with a giggle. Azriel’s eyes sparkled at your laughter, his hands deftly untying the ribbon as he carefully opened the box. He simply stared at it for a moment, silver lining his eyes as he held the box in his hands.

“I know you like to wear rings, and if you look at the side, I had it engraved for you,” you explained. Azriel carefully took the ring from the box, turning it over to see the outline of Ramiel, with Carynth shining above, and Azriel, Rhysand’s, and Cassian’s initials below.

Sliding the ring on his finger, Azriel looked to you, a look of shock crossing his features as he stumbled back, knocking his chair backwards in the process. You forgot to breathe for a moment, the only thought your brain able to process that Azriel now knew that you were mates. Standing up quickly, you uttered a goodbye as you ran out the front door in escape.

You made it halfway across the lawn when shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel towering over you as he appeared, anger swirling in his eyes. “You knew.” 

You didn’t say anything, just held your chin high as you willed the tears not to fall. Azriel didn’t let up though, taking another step towards you. “How long have you known that we are mates?”

Eyes shuttering, you took a deep breath. “Since Starfall,” you eked out in a broken whisper. 

Azriel’s face contorted in hurt and anger, his own voice shaky as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me? All of this time avoiding me, why wouldn’t you tell me that you didn’t want me?”

Something between a shocked laugh and a choking sound forced its way from your throat as you gaped at him. “Don’t want you? Azriel, all I want is you! It’s been agony trying to stay away, to keep the bond from snapping and trapping you with me. You deserve better, Az. You deserve more than I can give to you.”

Trying to step around him to walk away, Azriel swiftly slid into your path, the ring on his finger cool against your cheek as he guided your gaze to his. “How could you ever think that you wouldn’t deserve me? If anything, I don’t deserve you. You are kind, beautiful, thoughtful... You’re more than I could have dreamed of.”

You allowed yourself to lean into his touch for only a moment before you softly pulled his hand away from your face. You drew his hand up, clutching it in your own, savoring the warmth of his touch. “Azriel, I can’t have children. Madja told me years ago, it’s just not possible for me. And seeing you on Starfall with Nyx, you were so happy. And I cannot give you that. I cannot give you everything you want, can’t give you a family.”

Azriel’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling you into him, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Holding your chin between his fingers, he tilted your gaze to him. “You are my family. You are everything I could ever want, and more.” His lips brushed yours, the feeling of his smile against your own sending a burst of joy through you as you leaned up to kiss your mate.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Insecurities. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome, readers!! As always, thank you for stopping by!! I thought it was high time to write a fic for Kili! After all, who can resist that cheeky smile of his?? Do enjoy! ❤

Plot; Comfort drabble

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; fluffity-fluff and some angy-angst

_____________________________________

The evening was cheerful, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield having stopped for the night after a long day's travels. Peaceful ambience of the forest began to increase in the nightfall, the breeze light and cool as it swayed through the rustling trees.

Firelight filled the camp with a warm flickering glow, the smell of woodsmoke and Bombur's cooking potent in the air. Conversation was easy to find and delightful, as always. Bofur, Dwalin, Nori and a few of the others were sat together, conversing in what sounded like their native tongue. The intricacies and mysteries of Khuzdul still left you amazed, despite how it was only merriful banter.

You had stood by Bombur, offering to take Bofur's place tonight as the food-server. Each bowl of soup was steaming hot, your steps having to be quick to avoid burning yourself too badly from the scalding liquid as it dripped from the bowl. Each Dwarf had eagerly taken the food that was offered, exhaustion fueling their hunger. Even Bilbo and Gandalf seemed relieved to finally be eating this evening. The days were long and draining, trudging through the wilderness in the everchanging landscape. You too found relief in finally dropping down beside the youngest of the two Princes once your rounds were finished.

Fili, who usually kept him company of a nighttime, was occupied in the audacious conversations nearby. The booming laughter that rang out almost startled you whilst you settled in alongside Kili, him offering the occasional soft chuckle at the words being thrown between bites of his food.

Darting to you, the Prince's hazel eyes glistened with the embers of the campfire. A soft smile of amusement crossed his face, the action always seeming to offer you comfort. "What are they on about now?", you quirked a brow, his expression becoming contagious.

"By this point in the conversation, I don't think you want to know".

"Enlighten me", you encouraged, laughter slipping from the Princeling's lips. It was hard for Kili to restrain his smile when he finally obliged.

"They're taking bets on whether or not Bofur uses his hat in the bedroom".

"Pigs", you huffed, a moment's silence passing before you added, "He clearly does". The Prince snorted, his soup suddenly travelling through his nostrils. Something akin to a guffaw escaped his lips, whilst he desperately tried to grapple his composure in your now shared laughter.

"Agreed", he managed to wheeze out, wiping at his face and mouth.

In moments like this, you appreciated the bond that had formed between you both. Despite the seriousness of the quest at hand, you always found yourself at ease within Kili's easygoing nature and cheeky humour. He always had a way of soothing your anxieties with his jokes and lighthearted conversations, always looking on the brighter side of things. And although he was oblivious to such things, you'd come to find him to be quite beautiful.

It was hard not to when the light of the fire danced over his features, illuminating the strands of hair that fell effortlessly over his face. You'd come to admire those wavy tresses with their now auburn glow, sitting over his strong and broad shoulders. You wondered how he cared for them, keeping them so clean despite the lack of hygiene this quest entailed.

With his head turned and gaze fixed on the forest ahead, you found that his messed half-up had lost a few strands that dangled, masking the Prince's handsome face from your current view. His metal clasp was now sitting loosely on the back of his head. And although it offered him a fitting style, you wished to fix it for him.

Dinner became suddenly forgotten in your new endeavours when you decided to test the waters with Kili. Reaching for the strand that had fallen loose over his face, your fingertips worked the silken strands behind his ear with a delicate precision. The Prince almost seemed to stiffen at your touch, his breaths halting whilst goosebumps ignited across his skin. His lips had parted, lashes fluttering. No woman had ever touched him like that before. And although there was nothing sensual about your touch, it made every part of him light up like fire, craving more of that soothing gentleness.

Sensing his quiet, you became hesitant to continue. "May I fix your hair for you?". Your question had his hazel orbs clouding in confusion, scanning your face for any sign that you may have been jesting. He nodded shyly, his voice seeming to waver slightly,

"Please". That being all the confirmation you needed, you pulled the large clasp from his hair, the thick layers falling loose. Excitement bubbled in your chest whilst you shuffled closer to the handsome Dwarf.

Steadying his breaths, he resisted the shudder that passed through him when your fingers began working through his hair like a gentle comb. You began to remove the small tangles, relishing in the soft touch of his hair. The moisture in the strands was not greasy or dirty in nature and his waves bounced back, unaffected by your touches. The Prince's eyes had fallen closed, his dinner being long abandoned in his blissful state. The sensation of your nails brushing over his scalp had him drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to fight the pleasurable sighs that dared to leave his throat.

The boisterous conversations that once ensnared his attention had faded from his ears. He was barely able to register your voice when you spoke so gently to him. "Your hair is so beautiful", you marveled, spindling his soft hair between your fingers playfully. "How do you keep it so soft and lovely?". The young Prince felt his throat tightening from shock, pondering what your interest was in his hair. In his opinion, there was nothing special about his tresses.

Kili gathered no attention from women, unlike his fellow kin. His complete lack of facial and body hair meant that to any respectable Dwarf, he was considered ugly or unattractive. At your compliments, it was only normal for him to be in a state of disbelief. You were the first and only woman to take interest.

"It's nothing special", he finally murmured. "I just use a light oil after I wash my hair".

"You need to lend it to me sometime", you insisted with a grin, your eyes seeming to sparkle with mirth. "It works wonders on your hair. It's so beautiful". Kili felt his heartbeat increase, his tone falling quieter amidst his further disbelief.

"Do you think so?". In a sudden surge of confidence, you replied,

"I know so. You have the most gorgeous looking hair out of all the Dwarves in this Company". His eyes had blown wide, his lips parting in surprise. "It looks lovely pinned back", you added, finally binding his hair securely with his clasp. "Or left out". You shrugged. He grew confused when you shuffled in front of him. "But, I think I like your fringe the most. It frames your kind face without hiding it".

You were so close now, your (e/c) eyes trained on the delicate strands that made up his bangs. Your touch was featherlight and uncalloused, your face screwed in concentration. In your current focus, you didn't see the admiration and awe for you that shimmered in his gaze. Never had he gotten attention like this, even from a friend. Friend. He despised that word when his thoughts drifted to you. But, how could you possibly ever find him attractive?? His lack of facial hair and muscle was unmanly, even by human standards.

You were strangely beautiful to Kili. You weren't as tall or lithe as the Elves, nor as creamy-skinned or graceful. You had perfect little imperfections in your skin and freckles. Your hair had character, being curly. And you almost always wore your hair out of your face, the odd stray hair coming to frame it perfectly. And from the moment he sensed his feelings for you some weeks ago, Kili had felt his confidence decrease. He felt as if he had no chance with 12 other eligible Dwarves in the Company that could easily win you over with their toned bodies and lavish, braided hair.

The Princeling wasn't oblivious to how you often spent your time with Ori, looking through his books and learning how to knit the varying patterns he practiced. And despite how Ori was much younger than Kili, he had an attractive amount of body hair. He was nowhere near as confident as the Prince, nor as rehearsed in the prowess of battle. However, it didn't stop the envy that crept its way into his heart and mind. Looks had always mattered to everyone else before, so why would it be any different now?

When your cooler hands brushed over his face whilst you worked, it left burning tingles in his skin. You noted the perfect shaping of his eyebrows, running your thumbs over them to smooth any stray hairs. His features were strong, to be expected of a man in Dwarven culture. You swept loose pieces of his fringe from his cheeks, his stubble seductively rough beneath your skin.

Some part of you preferred Kili without a beard. All the hair that hung from the others was so extravagant, but you liked seeing more of his face. His cheeky smile was your favourite thing to see, even on a bad day. Perhaps a beard would hide that?

Raking his fringe up for slight volume, you found yourself taken by how ethereal he seemed. You questioned yourself on whether or not it was your lack of food and rest from the day, but you couldn't ignore the fondness that crept into your soul at being so close with him. A smile marked your face, setting the last strands of his dark locks aside.

"Beautiful", you'd murmured, a sense of accomplishment filling your heart. The warmth of his skin increased beneath your lingering fingertips, his hazel gaze playing over your softer features. To his greater surprise, there was only genuity in your expression. Not wanting you to retreat from him, Kili placed his heated callouses over your own, fighting the way his eyes slightly glazed over with tears.

"Thank you". He offered you one of those boyish smiles, taking comfort in the suppleness of your skin beneath his own. You caressed the stubble beneath your skin, grazing your thumb over the smoothness of his sharp cheekbone. Kili chuckled in amusement, "I look a bit more dignified now".

"Nonsense. Your hair looked fitting either way", you laughed softly, squeezing the warmer hands that held your own. "It's truly beautiful. Stubble and all". His dark brows had risen, wonder filling his kind gaze. You really didn't mind his lack of body hair??

"I always thought my stubble was– I thought it may have been unsightly", he confessed with the hints of a nervous smile, your brows creasing in light concern. "Beards are of high importance in my culture".

"Not in mine", you shrugged, slowly trailing your thumb over his dimples and slightly chapped lips. "Besides, how else would I be able to see that gorgeous smile?". The shy grin that slowly splayed onto his face at your words was the happiest one you'd ever seen on the Prince. Your words had dissolved any unsurities in his heart. "That's the one", you giggled, Kili trying and failing to restrain his smile.

"I think I like yours better", he murmured, sweeping one of your stray curls from your face. "It's the one I fell for, after all".

The small gap between you both closed, Kili's burning lips meeting yours in a gentle touch. It started off unsure and light, becoming almost fervent when your head tilted and lips parted to allow his tongue to slip past them. Using his hand resting along your jaw, he guided your head closer to his own, relishing in the need to be as close to you as possible. His stubble scratched the skin of your face pleasurably, a soft sigh exhaling through your nose.

The both of you separated, your lips swollen and tingling from the caresses and nibbles of his own. Kili's eyes finally fluttered open after a few moments, skimming your face with a soft tenderness. "Abnâmul", he whispered, running a heated digit over your tingling lips. "You'll have to let me do that more often".

"I'll have to think about it", you mused, squeezing the hand that cradled your face affectionately.

"Hopefully not too hard", Kili sighed in pretend dejection, tracing his thumb along your cheek. "I do really love you".

"I'm glad the feeling is mutual", you chuckled softly, pressing your lips to his with a playfulness. No longer burdened with his insecurities, Kili's laughter chased your own,

"Me too".

The End. . .

________________________________________

Hey, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you wish to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤❤

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Translations;

Abnâmul = "beautiful", (Khuzdul)

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TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl

[kakushino]

Haganezuka's apprentice - Fem!Reader

You'd heard about his temper, or rather, you heard his temper, long before you first saw him. The need for new swordsmiths went beyond personal wants and so, you found yourself as one of the would-be apprentices under masters of their trade. Your master though? Haganezuka Hotaru

Since you would be entering the Swordsmiths' village proper, as a citizen and not a visitor, you had received your own hyottoko mask, as ugly as the rest of them, yet crucial for its anonymity. You were grateful to it though, because it hid your scowl during your first few weeks under Master Haganezuka's dubious tutelage.

"Not like that, you stupid shithead!"

"This is shoddy as hell. Again."

"Useless brat."

"If Kamado got a sword like this, he'd be coming back for another in a day."

It was all you could do to not blow up on him. As it was, you just shut your mouth and tried to keep up. You weren't even sure if he knew you weren't a man; after all, the masks did distort even voices.

You understood though, really. He was forbidden from touching the forge until he healed up and just tried to focus his energy on you, but he went about it completely wrong. 

Every insult and snide comment fueled your wrath. It was time to show him what you were made of, what you learned and what you could do. 

With bandage-covered hands from the blisters and rawness of overworking, you did what you did best as of late - forge.

The day you presented your first 'passable' wakizashi (passable for him, very good for others) was the day his comment felt less offensive and more… like a compliment?

"Hmpf, guess you aren't that incompetent, brat."

With time, the heat of his words went out of the window, his vulgarity dwindling as you improved in leaps and bounds. Despite his harshness and unpolished way of teaching, you'd become a swordsmith who could stand on her own two feet. Your apprenticeship would last for years more though, giving you plenty of time to really get to know your master.

"You didn't buy yourself any dango? Idiot. Here, take one. Don't tell a soul or you're dead."

"Here… What do you think it is? I didn't know you were so stupid you couldn't recognize tea. You like this type, don't you? So shut up and take it."

"Tsk. Brat. As if you could distract me from my- is that Gyomaru's dango? Hand it over."

Haganezuka Hotaru was just abrasive on the outside, but a big softie on the inside. 

A big softie who couldn't take care of himself properly at times. 

"Master Haganezuka, you need to eat. You've been in here for over a day." You cautiously touched his shoulder, hoping beyond hope he would snap out of the Zone. You'd brought dango and tea, hoping to entice him with the smell at first. It wasn't working, obviously.

He said nothing, just continued to hammer away at his latest work. 

“Master Haganezuka?” you shook his shoulder a little, making him pause for a moment before he continued. Your patience wore thin. You scowled. You’d be surprised if the ugly expression wasn’t permanently fixed into your face with how often you wore it when dealing with him. 

Maybe taking off his mask would make him pay attention to me?

Spoiler alert: It did not.

But it did make your face feel hot when you saw how handsome he was under it. A few shiny scars from the not-so-recent village attack still stood out against his pale skin, making him even more attractive.

Sweat made his dark hair stick to his skin, and suddenly, you were curious about the whole picture; you untied his scarf - it wasn’t like he was going to un-Zone anytime soon, you reasoned. You were not ready for the dark wavy tresses spilling over his shoulders. It was not fair how much of a looker he was. Was this man really single?

You continued to study him, memorizing his features for long lonely nights in your accommodation. Soon enough, you realized you were being a creep and should stop at once; you needed to finish what you started after all.

“Master Haganezuka!” you reached for his other shoulder to shake it. What you didn’t account for was the fact it was his blind side. Instead of an insult or even a scathing remark, you were nearly slashed with a red-hot blade in the face. You took a quick step back and it thankfully only knocked off your hyottoko mask to the ground, the wood smoking a little where the iron made contact with it. You stared at it with wide eyes, your heart in your throat and terror pulsing in your veins. “...”

“...you’re a woman?” 

Your eyes met his, both of you staring at each other in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” 

A flush rose to his cheeks, before his expression turned to white ash. “The old man is gonna kill me.”

"How did you not know I was a woman? The Chief told you when he was introducing me."

"I wasn't listening," he huffed, looking away. 

"More importantly, you just tried to kill me!" 

"Not my fault you were being stupid, brat!"

"You were being stupid. You didn't get out of here for over a day! You have to eat! And sleep!"

"Sleep is for the weak! I need to finish this project-" Haganezuka turned back to his bench, reaching for his hammer.

You snatched the tool before he could touch it. "No, you don't-" You high-tailed it out of his forge, clutching his favorite hammer as if your life depended on it.

"Wait-! You useless wench!"

Your master swore up a storm, hurling insults, screaming at you and chasing you with his half-finished blade. 

Kanamori even ran out into the street in his pajamas, mask askew, a katana of his own in hand, thinking there was an attack again. Seeing Haganezuka, he huffed and went back to sleep, too tired to deal with this right now.

A few days later, the Chief came to officially scold your master. You had a kick out of it, thankful your mask hid your smirk.

[lamaery]

have you read The Lost Metal yet? would you consider doing Twinsoul for an Inktober?

I have and I did. :D

27 - spores 

Since Prasanva or Twinsoul kind of fit the inktober prompt, so yeah, why not? This here obviously took some inspiration from @botanica_xu s version of him. He is a lovely and pleasant character.  His tea cup ended up looking a bit like Tress‘ ones and from that the story was spun of Hoid at a paint your ceramic thing shop, making a series of cups to present random nice people in the cosmere. And how he probably gave that to someone in the Ghostbloods because he suspected it would piss their leader off, if he knew it was a present from him. 😄 maybe there’s a cup in for every colour. I wonder who has the others.

-------------------- image description:

Charakter sketch for Prasanva or Twinsoul from the waist up, depicting him as a small, old, wiry man, with brown skin and a fluffy white beard around his mouth and chin. He as a receding hairline, but here are still, a short mane of wavy, white hair wafting of the back of his head. He wears a dress shirt, neck tied with a yellow ascot, under an orange vest with a paisley pattern. A long necklace of pink stone beads hangs around his neck. In one hand he olds a tea cup with a small pink butterfly over a pinke ocean waves. The other he holds up over his head, long, rose colored crystals jutting from his thumb and index finger holding a tiny ball of metal between them. He critically gazes at that ball through specs made form the same crystal, which have formed on his face, crystalline vines leading like veins up to the construct glasses.

[armandisdaddy]

I Will Break You (Chp 2.)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (Pirate) x Fem OC (Mermaid/Siren)

Word Count: 2,116

Content/Warning(s): !!18 PLUS!!, Non-Con/ Dub-Con, Violence, Masturbation, p in v penetration, taking virginity, Choking, Descriptions of Blood/Violence, Abduction, Obsession, Toxic.

Author’s Notes: This is set within The Golden Age of Piracy (1650 to 1726). I don’t know why I thought of this, but I think the best stories are the ones that just pop into your head. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 2.

After such a gruesome transformation she had become “human” her webbed fingers were now separated. Her sharp talons were now dull and thin. Her skin was pale and flawless and the gills on the side of her ribs were gone. She was now completely exposed to Aemond and seeing her this way only made him want her more. He held her tight while she shook uncontrollably in his arms. He could tell this was traumatic for her but he also knew that the small comfort he provided would make her more subservient to him. The crew call “LAND HO!!” and he knew he was back home.

He wrapped her in linens and when they were fully docked he quickly whisked her away and placed her in a room with a small window. So she could see the ocean, but it wasn’t big enough for her to try and make an escape. He place her on the bed and chained her wrist to a the bedpost. She was exhausted and had passed out on the way there. He looked at her face so pure and unknowing. She had no idea what kind of man he was. How cruel and cold he could be but she would soon find out. His calloused fingers grazed her soft cheeks and those supple lips. He felt himself growing hard in his breeches and he groaned softly.

He removed the linens from her naked form and he inhaled sharply while his hand grabbed at his crotch hoping for some relief. He couldn’t hold back anymore. His hand reached into his pants and pulled his throbbing cock from its prison. His hand tugging roughly at his cock he groaned watching her sleep her precious skin and supple breasts pushing him further. He was tempted to touch her but did not want to risk waking her. He imagined how her beautiful voice would sound once he was inside her. The way her voice would rise and fall with every sigh of pleasure.

He shiver softly feeling himself coming closer to his climax. He tugged harder and faster his teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip as he released into the same linen he wrapped her in falling into the bed slightly. She tossed a bit and he stood quickly removing the linen from her bed and getting himself together before he left her to get some rest. She tossed and turned throughout the day her dreams being filled with the dreaded night she was captured. She could feel his hands wrapped around her throat squeezing every bit of life she .

She was awakened by a maid coming in to leave clothes for her. “Hello, milady’ I’m Lydia your handmaiden. Master Aemond told me to bring you some clothes to wear and breakfast is almost ready.” She looked confused trying to make out what she was saying, but it was no use. But she did manage to mutter her name. “L…L-Ly-Dee-A.” Lydia looked to her in surprise and giggled in excitement. “Well, that’s a start, miss. I guess I have to teach to ya English.” She saw the chain holding her to the bed and her eyes softened and filled with sadness. She knew the Lord of this home was a ruthless man but he had never brought a lady here against her will. She didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.

Lydia helped her put on a beautiful midnight blue dress with crystals embroidered into the bodice of the dress. She brushed her hair letting her dark tresses flow within their dry natural state. Her hair was wavy and touched the small of her back. She looked over her and was taken aback by her beauty. “You look beautiful, miss.” She looked to Lydia and remembered that look all too well. She smiled and thought maybe she could get her to free her from these chains. The ocean surrounded this place and if she could escape these walls she could swim to freedom.

But just as she was ready to sing her song he barged in. She backed away from the maid and sat on the bed. She shook in fear, her breathing became erratic and the memories of the night before came back in waves. She climbed onto the bed finding a space against the headboard where she pulled her knees to her chest. Aemond’s gaze was cold and unfeeling, but within him was a fire raging. He saw her and his heart pounded against his chest and his stomach felt like it was doing flips. He looked at her as if she was his salvation. Even as she cowered he couldn’t help what he felt for her.

He was filled with complete and utter desire. He couldn’t help himself if Lydia wasn’t standing there he’d take her now, hell he would take her with his whole staff watching her. He burned for her. “Leave us..wait until I call for you to bring up breakfast.” He commanded and Lydia lowered her head as she exited her room. He walked around the large room watching her closely. It killed him to not feel her soft skin in his hands. To smell the scent of salt on her skin. He held his composure and sat at the foot of her bed. His head turned slightly to look at her from the corner of his eye.

“I do not wish for you to be afraid of me…but you must understand that you belong to me now. This is your home now.” She actually understood him very well and could even speak a little, but she would’ve rather these humans think she was incapable of speaking, but in this very moment she was angry. “Home…is water….” How dare he try to keep her in this place like a song bird in a cage. She was made to be free. Being subjected to these stone walls would only kill her slowly. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he turned completely to face her.

“You’ve been holding out on me my little sea demon. What else do you know?” He spoke to her so condescendingly. He didn’t even care what this would do to her. He only cared for his own desires. It was just like a human to only care about what he wanted and not what the consequences of his action would be and in a quick fit of rage she sprang forward digging her fangs into his neck. He screamed in agony and she wrapped her arms and legs around him pulling him in close. Her eyes were dark and filled with malice and the flesh of his neck began to tear. She reveled in the sound and the coppery taste of his blood.

Unfortunately, he managed to stand and elbowed her in the ribs over and over until she relented. She smiled at what she had done holding her side and she scurried away into a corner of the room. He held his hand to his neck and one of the male staff came running to his aid. “You fucking wench…you are going to regret that.” He could barely stay on his feet as he stumbled out of her chambers. It served him right the cunt, she thought to herself. She laughed maniacally to herself with crimson staining her chin and face, trickling down her chest and staining her dress. He had forbade any of the staff to come to her room ever again and she stayed isolated for the remainder of the day.

Night had fallen and he decided he’d pay her another visit. The dull brown shade of dried blood was still on your face and he entered with a warm bowl of water and something else in hand that she could not quite make out. He pulled up a chair and beckons her to come to him. She was hesitant for obvious reasons and placed and a clothe into the bowl. “Here you do it, I won’t touch you.” She pulled the bowl away and wiped her face and chest clean.

He watched her closely and noticed her back was turned. Without warning he came from behind pulling something up to her mouth and fastening it around her head. A muzzle…she fought to pull it off but he was too strong for her. “That will teach you to bite the hand that feeds you.” He whispered in her ear and inhaled her scent as his hands began to wander. The slipped into the bodice of her dress feeling those supple mounds of flesh. She fought to pull away from him but he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his calloused hand around her throat. “You aren’t getting away this time, Demon.”

His breath was hot against her skin and she was in a panic as he tore away her dress exposing her body underneath the sheer chemise that cling to her now sweaty frame. She dug her nails into him trying to pull away from his clutch with all her might. He enjoyed the fight in her as sick as it may sound. The more she fought the more he wanted her. “Please….” She muttered her eyes softened and filled with fear as he stood between her legs ready to take what was rightfully his. That made his cock throb harder within his breeches. "I'm sorry little dove...I can't stop."

He let his breeches fall to his ankles and his cock sprang free. Her eyes widened from the sheer size and she shook her head no over and over. He admired her body while he pressed his cockhead against her puffy clitoris. The sensation sent a shock through her body. The feeling was unfamiliar and a bit pleasant. She shook herself from the hazy feeling and moaned in protest. He stroked himself slowly while he bucked forward letting his head press against her entrance with every push. She gasped with every thrust anticipating the unwanted intrusion. Your sisters often talked about the use of man. To help us procreate and to eat. The process was never this close or intimate.

Lost in her thoughts she was rudely pulled from them when the sharp pain of him pushing inside her caught her attention. She hissed at him instinctively and grabbed onto the sheets of her bed. He groaned involuntarily and the snug feeling of her walls. He pulled back and saw the blood smearing against his shaft and he smiled at the sight. He pushed her legs up against her chest and leaned his head back at the sounds of her soft whimpers and sighs. She despised him, she even wanted to kill him. The thoughts of taking him under the water and watching the light leave his eye always played in her mind, but at this very moment the pain began to subside and the sheer feeling of pleasure filled her belly.

Her legs trembled and her breathing was heavy. He smiled noticing how aroused she had become and he let his right hand grab at her breast pinching her soft pink nipple causing it to harden between his fingers. If looks could kill he would've been decapitated in the act. How dare he muzzle her like some wild animal, violate her, and make her feel good all at the same time. Aemond grew tired of that evil look in her eyes and wrapped his hand around her throat giving just the right amount of pressure to make her lightheaded but still letting her breathe. She didn't know why, but that sent her over the edge. She felt that unsettling feeling in her stomach building as he pounded into her and fell forward on top of her biting into the flesh of her shoulder causing her to scream. "That's it..." He mused into her ear.

That stupid voice of his made her lose her train of thought. He was ready to come undone himself, but he didn't want to stop. His pace quickened and she could no longer hold herself together. Her legs trembled and her blood and slick smeared his cock. He could feel her walls convulsing around him and without another thrust, he poured his seed into her. They lay there in silence. The only thing that could be heard was them catching their breath. He stood to his feet and let his hand graze her thigh. She still lay in the high of her orgasm but when he touched her again she flinched and hissed. "That wasn't enough, huh? Alright... I'll try something else." With that, he put on his clothes and left her to clean herself up.

To be continued...

Tag list (if you're in bold I couldn't tag you): @bouncehousedemons @dahlias-and-marigolds @iiamthehybrid @sirenangelroyal @ashtheshyonee @elegantsplendour

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

mentor!Kishibe

mentor!Kishibe is very aware of your secret attraction towards him. Has to use every ounce of his will to convince himself that its onesided, just a young woman with a crush. But he'd have to be blind not to notice the subtle shift from the student/teacher vibe between y'all two when you finally complete his extensive training. It's been 3 years. Granted he deemed you at peak less than a year in, and now he had nothing left to teach you. Knows it's already incredibly suspicious and selfish keepin you from your aspirations this long. Still.. "Sure you don't wanna go private?" Kishibe takes a swig from his flask, tired eyes trained on the newest addition to the eerily desolate cemetery. "Tsk. Don't ask somethin you have no intention of doin yourself. Real funny way of askin me to stay.." You get no reply. The tense silence stretches on, so many words on the tip of his tongue. He eventually settles with a dry "Then congratulations, kid: It's graduation day." You frown, dreading this moment almost as much as the thought of never finding the gun devil. Feels just as despairing as you thought it would. Staring at the side of his handsome downcast face, admiring the crinkle round his eye. "Will you miss me?" Kishibe solemn eyes finally meets your imploring gaze, not needing even a second to think about your question. Uses the back of his hand to gently sweep your braids off your shoulder as he offers you a small forced smile. "Course, sweetheart. You already know.." Your heart skips a beat to the simple touch and new pet name. Know what? But then Kishibe's droppin his hand. Turns on his heel, stridin to the exit without another word. "Goodbye.." The strong gusts of wind the only witness to your anguished whisper.

mentor!Kishibe makes it a point to keep his distance from you. Even with workin in the same sector, its a whole year before you see him again. Makima finally wore em down into comin out to eat with a few fellow hunters. "Two minutes. Then we're done here." She only smiles at him, watchin as he sits stiff refusing to touch his plate of food. Kishibe ignores the flow of conversation, his mind wondering what you were up to for the evening. Imagine his surprise when he sees your pretty ass walk through the door, his insides twisting and knotting at the sight of you. Uniform pants huggin your shapely frame; white shirts sleeves rolled up to the elbows, first couple buttons undone and givin him the tiniest peak at your mouth watering cleavage. So fuckin gorgeous to Kishibe. Almost exactly how he'd last seen you. Your face is different thought.. Just as beautiful but he knows that gaunt look only too well. Your hairs changed too, now in y/h/c wavy layered tresses down your back. There's nothing on planet earth that can get either of you to unlock eyes as you freeze on the spot. You weren't sure when you'd see him again; if his petty ass would continue to dodge you till the end of time. But inna instant, it's like just the two of you exist. Nothing else in the world matters but how much you want and miss him.. Till you remember the cruel and sudden way he chose to snatch himself from your life, leaving you heartbroken. And more lonely than necessary, especially considering the profession. The thought has you spinnin on the spot and storming from the restaurant. Makima digs her elbow into Kishibe's side. "I'm not saying fall in love. But find a piece of happiness for yourself, even if you believe it to be fleeting." He doesn't say a word. Knows right away her sneaky ass had somethin to do with this crap. Puttin on his shoes and coat, he heads out. Doesnt grace a single soul at the the table with a goodbye, leaving for home with a scowl and a dark cloud over his head. Kishibe knew comin to this shit show was a fuckin mistake.

mentor!Kishibe is so fuckin stubborn that he goes another 6 months without you in his life before almost goin off the deep end. The gaping hole in his already miserable existence seems to physical weaken him. Kishibe can't eat, think or fuckin sleep anymore. Drinks more and focuses less on his goals at work, even skippin out some days to secretly pop up to check on you. But you never see him, even when you feel a pair of unknown eyes on you every now and again. He continues to watch from afar when you patrol, missin the way you'd accompany him on his. Longing to hear your sweet giggles when he'd say something dark or give you a taste of that dry humor. The only woman that got him to open up bout what makes him drown his sorrows in liquor. And even indulge less. Needs that connection with you again. He's startin to care less and less how hes too old, too much of a brute that might be incapable of giving what you need. And in fully recognizing that.. Kishibe can't be without you much longer. The only semblance of peace is late at night when he gives in to the madness that haunts him, pumpin at his angry agitated cock while you consume his mind. "Ohhh fuck, y/nnn.. Touch me, sweetheart.." Head dipped back into his pillow, moaning low imagining the his grip to be the warm wet clutch of your tight lil puss. Perspiration drippin down his nude frame, muscles spasming from how good it feels. "Tell me you want me.." Drivin him insane rememberin every scar, dimple, beauty mark peekin from your formal public safety uniform. "Want you so bad, pretty girl." Wish he could listen to how you pant after a strenuous session, tiny huffs akin to what he thinks you sound like if he sucked at your clit. "Bet you like that, huh?" Fucks his fist quicker to the thought, strokes awkward from how infrequently he masturbates. How sensitive would you be? Would you moan or scream? Buck and hump against his face, grind his lips for maximum pleasure? "Thats it. Take what you need greedy girl." Or maybe run from it. Yank at his short hair while tryin to escape, his name stuttering out on broken moans and pleas for reprieve as he forces you to cum. "Y/nnn!" Kishibe unloads allover his fist to the conjured imagery. Sputtering your name over and over as his nut spurts thickly in the air, splattering his muscled thighs audibly.

mentor!Kishibe knows things have gone all the way left when liquor stops helping to numb the pain of your abscence. Shows up to your spot in the middle of the night with a crazed look in his eye, bangin on your door like he was outta his damn mind. "What do you want Kishibe?" You snap after eyeing him through the peephole, swinging open your front door. Even through your outrage, you're immediately aware of the deep dark circles underneath his eyes. Or the prominent wrinkles in his suit jacket and pants, but most importantly the exclusion of that dank smell of whiskey. Your stunned he isn't stone cold drunk. But his attention is on the fact you're only in an oversized black tee, hair inna a cute messy bun. Smooth brown legs and pert nipple prints on display for his greedy gaze. Doesn't have very high hopes with hidin how his dick starts to chub, trying his damnest not to stare at the exposed skin. "Y/n, sweet girl.. Missed you so fuckin much. I'm so sor-" Kishibe steps a foot forward into your home, arms outstretched to embrace you but you sidestep him, smackin away his hands. "Fuckin kidding me right?" He's never touched you unless you guys were training, but back then you had always hoped for it. Dreamed of it. Even now your body yearns for him to hold you, caress you.. To fuck you. Traitorous pussy started to moisten, nipples stiffening the moment you opened the door. But you're fuckin hurt! "Y/n-" "What?! Thought you could ghost me then slide through for a quick fuck?" Your tone makes his heart clench. Kishibe can't believe you think that's what you mean to him. His face falls a bit and he drops his arms. "No, never. I missed you so mu-" "You said that already, Kish." Another interruption paired with a severe eye roll. "Babygirl, hear me out. You have every right to kick my ass and send me off. I'm sor-" "Yeah, you said that already too. Either tell me why you left me or get the fuck out." He takes a deep breath before puttin his heart on the line for the first time in his life. "I'ma fool, y/n. An old fool that had no intention of ever fallin in love. Not with the life we lead. You know as well as I that only swift violent death awaits all of us. But then I met you." Kishibe reaches for you again and but this time you allow him to link fingers, his words sinkin deep; they were very true. "Mourning hurts worse the more you care. I didn't want that for you. Just wanna protect you sweetheart. Even from myself. You mean everything to me and I dont deserve you.. What if i can't make you happy?" You mull over his words for a second. "So you denied me my dick, which woulda made me estatic by the fuckin way, all in the name of protectin me from grieving?" You clarify in disbelief. He gives you a short nod, cock twitchin at your admission. "Fuckin stupid, Kish. Everyone at work can see you're all i need to be happy. And we all die! No matter the jobs we pursue. What's wrong with enjoying each other till then?" You ask, palming up his abs to rest your hands on his chest. Wow. He never thought of it like that. Such a intelligent girl, but he always knew it. Though he tells you anyway. "When you become smarter than me, babygirl?" Kishibe asks, tuggin you against his well defined frame. Arms wrapping around you tight, dippin down to massage your backside as he noses up your neck, inhaling your fresh, feminine scent. "Haven't I always been?" You hug around his neck as he hums in agreement at your throat, tiltin your head to offer him more access. The need for his cock to mold your desperate cunt to the shape of him is overpowering when you feel it press firm against you. "Come in, Kishibe. Need you so much. Don't make me wait anymore." Connecting your lips to his, moaning when he passionately reciprocates as you yank him inside by his the collar of his shirt.

mentor!Kishibe hasn't had the luxury to relieve himself in weeks; can't even remember the last time he's gotten do it with someone other than himself. So he's absolutely unprepared when you unzip his slacks, push him to the bed, turn and hastily sit on his dick. "Holy shit, baby girl!" His fingers dig into your hips bruisingly, trying to lift you off his hypersensitive leaky length. Soft heat drenchin him, erratic flutter of your walls buildin that familiar pulsing swirl in his gut. Feels pathetic that he's already fighting back nuttin inside your perfect lil snatch. Mind reeling at finally gettin a taste of your bomb ass coochie, and the fact you aint have no panties on when you scolded him at your front door earlier. "Pussys too tight, worlds best cock sleeve baby. Mmm.. Oh shit- get up! Lemme breathe honey. Been too fuckin long, dont wanna buss yet." But you fight against his attempts to unsheathe himself, moanin as his words replay in your head. Leanin back into his strong chest as his scent clouds your mind, reachin back to grip tight at his freshly cut soft blonde locks. "Nooo, Kish! Don't make me wait anymore. N-need it so bad. 'S so big, feels so good inside me. Don't make me stop, pleeease. Gimme my dick, baby. Waited long enough right? Waited like a good girl?" Kishibe clenches his gut tight, noddin his head swiftly. Your filthy pleas, how you frantically mouth and suck on his neck, pullin his short hair hard, makin his fat balls buzz pleasantly. "Yes, yes. Ughnn fuh-uck.. Such a good girl, my best girl.. So please sweetheart, slow the fuck down less you want this shit to be over with already." He's sits tense, so fuckin on edge tryin not cum, not even sure you hear anything after 'good girl'. "Y/n?" "Kishibeee.." Your immediate dazed moan back to him doesnt sound promising on followin orders. Fuck! He assumes even with bitin off more than your lil puss can chew, you've been plottin all this time to take matters into your own hands. Always the clever girl. And so goddamn impatient. "Oh fuck, y/nnn.. Gonna give you what you want, just w-wait‐ wait a second honey!" Fuck that shit. "No." You huff, makin his pretty eyes narrow at your new found disobedience. "Little girl, stop. Right now. Dont make me- haaah!" Threat cut short when you grind and roll your hips into his before leanin on his knees to tentatively bounce on his dick. "Ohmygod! Knew you'd fuck me so good. Ohfuuuck! Waited too long for this good dick. So worth it, so so worth it!" You keen, tossin your head back at him diggin you out, body tremblin how he stretches your delicate walls round his thick girth more than any man ever had.

Kishibe eyes widen at your antics, grip at your hips useless as you keep a tight hold of the reins and fuck him a bit quicker. Tits jigglin under your tee, clit throbbin for attention as you use his dick to knock into that ridged pleasure button inside you. "Fuck me, Kishi! Show me how much you missed me. Yeees, yes- right there!" The intense sensation rapidly formin in the depths of your tummy is frighteningly mind numbing but you chase it anyway. Fuckin him vigorously, nails diggin into his knees as you both near whats sure to be orgasms for the history books. "Shiiit! Gonna make me buss so fuckin h-hard, honey.." "Then buss for me. Mmm. Show me what I've been missin. Wanna feel your nut splash inside, handsome." No womans ever talked to or fucked him like this before. Its him that usually mounts his victims till they're stupid from his curved cock. But now he can hardly take the snug hug your hole gives his dick. Unable to stop his eyes from rollin back in his skull when you focus on humpin the wide mushroom tip, swiveling your hips sensually as you ride your mans dick. His fingers slip from your hips and Kishibe falls back against the bed limply, eyes blurry with tears at the sensation of you fuckin him so thoroughly. "F-fuck honey. Thats it. Put that pussy on Daddy." He slurs, eyes shut tight, oblivious to the dark kink he keeps buried deep down finally breakin free. "Make me nut in that pretty lil pussy, baby. Show Daddy how he's the only one that can cum inside." His chest heaves as he pants out quick labored grunts from the way you pop your plushy ass on him up and down fast as you can, slammin your lil cunt on him tirelessly; the burn in your thighs the last thing on your mind. "Yes, Daddy! Gimme it, earned my nut huh? Don't wanna wait for it anymore!" You hiccup, beggin for his load in high pitched cries as he begins to buck his hips widly. "H-here it is, sweet girl. Nuts all for you.. Ahhh fuck! Take it, honey. Take it.." Glidin to the base of his swollen shaft repeatedly, literally milking the sperm from his poundin dick. Gooey white spurts layer your walls, coating your insides thickly with his essence. His hips unintentionally lift from the bed to chase your pussy, outta sync from your rythym, random hits to your gspot makin you seize in his lap. "Kish, Kishi- Kishibeee!" Juices gush and pool on his work pants as you cum enthusiastically, clumsily rotatin your hips, usin his poor cock to abuse your puffy hole even when Kishibe stiffens from the overstimulation. "L-little girl." He warns you but you ignore him, wordless moans slippin through your bare lips as you enjoy him like its the last time. The man has to gather all the strength he has left to snatch you off his dick and flip you onto the bed, pastel blue covers cool against your back. He hovers above you, sticky girth rigid against your slick pussy lips. "Bad fuckin girl. Doin whatever you want with my dick." Kishibe snarls against your mouth, kissing you hungrily, both of you still pantin for air. His words make you pout, releasin a small whimper when he pulls away, floppin next to you and cuddling into your side. "My dick, Kishibe. Plus.. Thought you said I was good." He snorts at your whine. "Any man would say that when you're force fuckin the nut out me the way you did, y/n." You bust out laughin at his deceitful trickery, your infectious giggles makin him follow suit. "That right.. Daddy? Didn't know you were into that. Think we got some catchin up to do.." Kishibe groans when you slip a hand to squeeze lightly at his sensitive slowly softening cock, smilin into his shoulder when it twitches with interest. He knows he'll never hear the end of this one and really wishes your perfect lil cunt didn't get him so fuckin pussy drunk. But really, Kishibe's finally happy; hopesand prays his lil slice of happiness won't be cut short..

[mrsoharaa]

imagining reading a spicy romance novel in front of a crackling fire place, hardly clothed, comfortably sitting on the floor leaning back against the couch's cushions, the lulling gentle patters of raindrops clashing amongst the windows of the cozy cabin...peeping up at a peering Miguel.

brows perched up as you watch him gradually make his way towards you, slowly lowering your book as you feel his warm hands smooth up the stride of your bare legs, fingers soothing out along the supple exposed skin. daring, soft carmine irises never leaving your own with such admiration and hunger.

"you've been reading that book quite frequently, mi amor..." he leans down to kiss the hilt of your knee, fingers trailing up further beneath the borrowed shirt of his grazing over your pretty body. gently takes the lulling book from your grasp and sets it down beside the both of you. you smile cheekily, running your own hands up along his cheeks to the soften tresses of warm mahogany.

"I think it's time you give your loving husband some attention..." he humbs lightly, brushing the pliant touch of his soft lips against your knee up to the higher plain of your thigh. you giggle with a breathy gasp, his wide hands caressing the curvy dips of your voluptuous hips, fingers playing with the straps of your thin panties. playfully, you chew onto your bottom lip, nails raking through each silky strand of his wavy hair.

"mm, I think you're right Miggy...I have been too cooped up in that silly book...need to give my adoring husband my entire undivided attention, hm?"

[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features. 

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek. 

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly. 

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter. 

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.” 

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own. 

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that? 

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away. 

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set. 

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive. 

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?” 

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure. 

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you. 

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him. 

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock. 

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand. 

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly. 

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night. 

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet. 

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle. 

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.��

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.” 

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond. 

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’. 

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it. 

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand. 

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies. 

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape. 

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be. 

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought? 

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you. 

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking. 

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn. 

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been. 

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying. 

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly. 

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–” 

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached. 

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off. 

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes. 

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red. 

What had you done? 

[sinning-23]

Glass Chandelier

Warnings: swearing, depictions of violence

Notes: Hellooo! This series is gonna be sorta gut wrenching or at Leary I’m gonna try to have it be lol. Let me know if your like to be added to a tag list and enjoy!

Ps. Pls ignore any spelling errors I did my bestest

Introduction

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Evening at the Baratie was as busy as usual. The brunch rush had well started and patrons tumbled in sitting at their designated tables they more likely waited months to get. It was a bit brighter than you would have liked but the booth you're sitting in is just right. Night time was more your speed at the floating restaurant but the waiter from last night had piqued your interest. As an attempt to see him again, you came in a bit earlier.

You sit, cross-legged and slightly impatient, hoping to see a mess of slightly wavy blonde tresses but he never shows. Part of you feels silly for entertaining the idiot but you simply couldn't resist an opportunity like this.

-the night prior-

"Fancy a drink with me after this?" He asks, smiling right back at you as you remove yourself from the booth and stand before him.

Your fingertips dance across the collar of his blazer and you cant help but to flick the hair that falls in front of his face away. He watches, cheeks tinting even darker as you flatten out his attire.

"I fancy far more than a drink.”You tease, circling him as he tries to find the words to respond to your far-from-innocent comment.

The blonde only chuckles in response and tries to fight the smile that creeps over his face. Damn, did you look good walking away.

Your head snaps towards the restaurant entrance as the doors sound as if they not only swing open but are slammed into the wall behind them. The other customers didn’t seem to notice, still enjoying their meals. As a reoccurring customer, you were well aware of the ‘No fighting inside’ rule they followed seeing as you’d watched that same waiter and many others break up a fight before they could even start. You reach for your pick, seeing not one or two, but three fish men that looked far from friendly stop down to the main floor.

If the current customers were paying attention before they were now as the slightly larger one lifted the man who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time out of his chair and threw him across the dining floor. It would be wise to leave now and you weren’t the only one with the same idea.

However, a sharp and quite threatening, “SIT DOWN” booms returning most to their seat.

Zeff, the man you’d grown quite close with as a reoccurring customer had stepped out amid the commotion, eyeing you and hovering his head a firm shake. If he knew you he knew you’d leave one way or another but this situation was different.

He was well aware of your ability to protect yourself but three against one wasn’t fair and these ‘gentlemen’ seemed far from it. You heed his advice, crossing your legs and sitting back down to sip your drink.

“If you don’t bring me that straw hat by the time I finish my meal, maybe I’ll start adding some of these nice folks to the menu.” He threatened, narrowing his eyes at your defensive frame.

How entitled did you have to be to not only ruin everyone’s meals with this nonsense but threaten to harm them as they are already cowering in fear?

It took less than a few minutes to finish you drink and once you were you had already removed yourself from the booth and was walking toward the exit. A hush falls over the hostages as your heels click against the tile.

“And where are you going?” The fishman who you’d learned was named ‘Arlong’ growls, the two lackeys eyeing you as if you spat at them.

Arlongs patients ran thin with humans if there was even any to begin with. So for you to not only NOT be afraid of who he was and what he could do to you while simultaneously ignoring his threats was enough to piss him off beyond comprehension.

“Leaving, I finished my drink. I thought that was obvious?” You speak, turning on your heel as the screech of the chair sliding on tile makes you stop again.

Reaching for your weapons would give you away too soon. The ice picks were more of a close combat weapon so until you were at the required amount of space, revealing them just to appear big and bad wasn’t wise. It was never really an option to begin with considering being flashy wasn’t your forte.

You were accurate and precise…calculated. That’s what mattered most in a fight. Sure raw talent and strength were great to have but critical thinking skills, common sense, and planning were things that weren’t quite easy to come by.

He’s towering over you now, your eyes scanning the surrounding area as well as his current physical state. If Arlong could throw a grown man damn near 30 feet away he’d surely break you in half without a second thought.

“Don’t you know who I am girl?” He growls, his fists clenched at his sides as you act as if he’s not a threat. It pisses him off more.

“Yeah, I just don’t care.”

He reaches for you, his hands going for your neck but you’re quick to duck, pulling the sliver of metal from your garter. You slice upwards, the point sliding from his ankle to mid-thigh. A hiss leaves his mouth as he tries to reach for you again but you slip between the opening of his two legs left before dragging the needles point down the left side of his back. A gasp leaves your mouth when a second pair of hands snatch you from your current position. Damn it.

Your arms flex and before Alrlong can even raise his fist your feet are off the ground and kicking firmly into his chest. It wasn't enough to fully push him back, just make his scoot maybe an inch back. You take the chance to flip out of your captor's grasp, Legs locking around his neck as you lift your pick.

Air leaves your lungs when you hit the floor of the Baratie and you feel the drink you'd previously finished rise up your throat after a swift kick to the stomach that sent you flying.

"Allow me to make an example. We all know fishermen are superior, but you just don't truly know the extent of that." Arlong growls, lifting you by your hair as you groan, pain shooting through your ribs.

His teeth sink into your shoulder as you thrash, doing anything you can to get him away despite the pain. Your flesh tears open, and the smell of your own blood fills your nose as it slides down your back and arm. A silent scream is stuck in your throat and when he finally decides to tear away a sizeable chunk he drops you, the thudd making patrons flinch.

The restaurant doors burst open for a second time and your heart almost bursts out of your chest when your blonde meets your injured frame. You managed to sit up against a pillar, pulling part of a tablecloth apart to dress your wound.

The straw hat Arlong had been looking for had stepped down, conversing with him briefly as the waiter seemed to pale just looking at you. It must be bad. You flash him a smile forcing yourself to stand as a bang sounds from beside you.

And when Arlong breaks Zeff's leg with a swift yet powerful kick, hell breaks loose.

You force yourself up, grab your picks, and sprint towards one of the two lackeys seeing as the blonde waiter was occupied with the other. You jabbed in his direction, missing by mere inches. A punch to your gut makes you gag and falter, the pain in your ribs shooting to the pain in your shoulder.

You growl, grabbing a discarded fork and jabbing it into the large-lipped fishman's calf. You stand, grabbing him by the collar before stomping your foot over the fork, diving it deeper, tearing a sizeable gash in the process. With a clenched fist, you wind up and punch as hard as your could before landing a final kick to his chest.

“BLONDIE!” You yelp, scrambling to get the waiter on his feet as he groans, his fans gripping his ribs.

Slinging his body partially over your uninjured shoulder, you also groan, limping to the kitchen the double doors whilst the straw hat boy and Arlong had moved outside. His lackeys followed. You sit the blonde down, immediately going back out to help Zeff. Pain shoots through you again as you huff, any adrenaline warns off now and you fight tears.

The kitchen is quiet, only the sound of the waiter's heavy breathing and your own filling it up as Zeff leans wearily in his chair. You whimper, touching the raw and open wound with a warm towel, the color becoming a deep red with every drop of blood it soaked up.

Hot tears slide past your cheeks as you to try and find some sort of reflective surface. The young blonde only limps after you. With steady hands he lifts you onto the counter, being mindful of the obvious injuries you’d earned in the fight.

Despite wishing you were dead instead of in excruciating pain, the action makes your heart flutter. He is much larger than you, his frame wider than you remember. His waist is a lot smaller too, it being seemingly curved and leading right to a pair of thighs you'd managed to lay your eyes on. The veins running up his arms look awfully tempting as they lead right down to a large pair of hands, one adorned with a ring.

His nails are trimmed and surprisingly clean. It's clear he takes care of himself, the smell of cigarettes and spice fills your senses. His lips are moving but you can’t hear any sound and his eyes are so concerned looking at you. Blue....so soft and so blue. His eyes crinkle at the side when he smiles...

“Hm?” You quip, cursing yourself for swooning when he gives you a faint smile.

After rolling up his sleeves, his fingers move along your torso, gently touching your sides as he repeats the question.

“What’s your name darling?”

His voice sounds so much better than you remembered. He's focused, fighting a grimace as he rinsed and rang out the cloth that's now soaked in your blood.

His hands are stained with the color, but so are yours at this point. He returned the towel to your injury, getting a fresh one soaked with warm water before brushing it over the palm of your hand oh so gently.

"Why, you wanna take me out on a date?" You tease, eyes meeting as you both share a smirk. "Well you just helped fight off 3 fishmen all of which were twice your size. I wanna know who I'm thanking for that." He speaks, the gentle caress of the towel stopping when his index finger lifts your chin.

A heavy sigh and grumble forces you to turn away. Zeff was still slumped in the chair watching this whole scene play out and quite frankly hed rather not watch his 'son' flirt with one of his more favorable patrons.

Perhaps the flirting could come to a brief pause. You open your moouth to answer and flip the question but he's already back out the door when someone come yelping for help.

Something about "Luffy" being thrown into the ocean and needing saving?

________________________________________________

Taglist: @waannty @strangermeats (yall reblogged i assumed you'd want to be notified of the next chapter lol)

[violettduchess]

hi there talented writer. I would love to request headcanons (3 or 4?) for the princes and them doing something with a small child (their son or daughter)

I'd love for it to be Leon, Luke, Gilbert, Silvio or Chevalier but I will leave the choices up to you!

Thank you!!!

A/N: Alright anon....here you go!! Sorry this took so long! I did them all 😉

Word Count: 1878

Leon 

She has his hair. Wild locks the color of dark walnut that spill down her small back in a wavy cascade. You braid it every morning but by the end of the day, it has escaped its braided prison and curls with abandon. And so it is up to you or Leon to tame the wild beast with the best weaponry you have: a silver hairbrush and a dollop of oil.

It's his turn tonight. You walk into your bedroom, the night's book selection in hand, to find them on the bed. She sits cross-legged in front of him, telling a very detailed story about an adventurous ladybug she found crawling on the window of her room. Leon is carefully brushing her hair, fingers gentle as he works the brush through her dark tresses. 

You pause, watching them. Her small hands gesture to punctuate her story, a perfect imitation of her father. He listens, nodding intently even though she can't see him. Her story is taken seriously and you love him so much for it. 

He sets down the hair brush, running his hand over the soft fall of her hair. Knowing they are done, she spins around with the type of energy only young children can have, throwing her short arms around his neck. He embraces her, hugging her tightly before pressing a kiss on her dimpled cheek. She giggles and so he does it again, growling like a lion.

Her laughter fills the bedroom, bright and clear as wind chimes. "Papa!" Her voice is bubbly with glee. He kisses her and tickles her and she howls with joy. He tosses her onto the bed, still growling playfully, continuing his loving onslaught.

As she wiggles and giggles at her lion Papa, you sigh through your smile. Her hair is getting tangled and he'll have to brush it again.

Somehow you know neither of them will mind.

Luke 

Your son, with his shock of bright red hair and wide green eyes, is the spitting image of his father. He has inherited Luke’s gentle nature, his easy-going smile and not surprisingly, his love for honey. You set the freshly baked bread down onto the kitchen table, watching the way two sets of moss green eyes light up with anticipation.

Setting a generous slice of thick, dark bread down on his plate, you push the honey jar toward your little guy. Enthusiasm fills him as he reaches for the prized jar and the little metal spoon nestled in it, when Luke’s large hand covers his gently. 

“Let’s do this together, ok? Just like last time.” His son nods and with Luke’s help, carefully scoops out a spoonful of honey and then plops it onto his bread. His gaze darts to you and you nod approvingly, rewarded with a cherubic smile. Luke hands him the smaller, child-sized butter knife. “Like we practiced," he reminds his son gently.

The little boy nods, taking the knife and then very, very carefully begins spreading the honey across his bread. Luke watches, reaching out to help him with the rounded corners, words of encouragement and praise murmured whenever he lets go. The knife at times digs into the bread. Sometimes the honey is spread right off of it. But the bright light of pride shines in your son's eyes as he looks up, challenge conquered. “I did it!”

Luke smiles,  pride mirrored in his expression as he nods, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s head with a large hand. “You certainly did. Now let’s eat!”

Gilbert 

“Papa! Ich brauche Hilfe!” (Papa, I need help!) She races across the thick carpeting of your bedroom, dark hair flying behind her like a wayward banner. Gilbert has just finished pulling on his black leather boots, readying himself for a family excursion while you rifle through your drawers looking for a scarf. 

“Slow down, Mäuschen,” he says gently, an undercurrent of laughter discernible to you in his words. He kneels with a grin as she skids to a stop in front of him, catching her breath long enough to point at her coat. It’s made of rich black wool with large, round, gold buttons, a perfect size for her little hands. “I need help. It’s not working!” She is a perfect, flustered combination of eager to get outside and frustrated that she needs to ask him for help. 

“First of all,” he says, reaching for her hands. “It’s much easier to close the buttons if you are not wearing these.” He carefully pulls on the tips of her small black leather gloves, removing them from both hands and laying them on the edge of the bed. “Now, try again.” At first she looks at the gloves in dismay and you know from experience how proud she is of them and how long it probably took her to get them on. But she blinks her bright ruby-colored eyes and turns her attention back to the coat. Reaching up, she takes hold of one shiny button and holds the flap of the coat with the other hand. Several attempts later, the button isn’t through and she looks up, brow furrowed in annoyance. “It’s still not working.” 

Gilbert reaches out, straightening her coat. “Try again. I’ll hold it still for you.” He keeps hold of the bottom of her coat, pulling so the material is now stiffer, less bendable. Again she takes the button between her small fingers….and this time slides it right through the buttonhole. She doesn’t celebrate yet. The job isn’t done. Determination shadows her young face as she does the same for the entire row of gold buttons. It’s only when the last one slides into place that she looks up with a smile ablaze with pride. “Geschafft!” (Done!)

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the cool skin of her round cheek. “Toll gemacht, Mäuschen.” (Well done, little mouse) He stands, a loving hand lingering on her shoulder as she happily grabs her gloves and begins the process of pulling them on. His gaze finds yours, his smile warm with happiness. This could take a while.

Silvio 

Your son is sitting outside on the terrace, the cobalt blue-tiled floor warm from the sun's rays. In front of him are several pots of paint which he is enthusiastically dipping his chubby fingers into before smearing them across the pages of white paper. You're sitting on the wicker chair nearby, one eye on him and one on the book you are reading.

This is the peaceful scene Silvio comes upon after returning from a meeting in the city. The familiar jangling noise of his clothing and jewelry alerts you both to his presence. Your son leaps up in a hurry, excitement thrumming through his body.

"Papa!" Silvio catches his colorful little hands by the wrists, a wry smile on his face. “Ah topolino, what happened to these?” He makes the little boy's hands wiggle back and forth to an eruption of giggles. “I’m painting, Papa. Come, paint with me!” Silvio releases his son who scurries back to his art. The child glances over his shoulder, eyes as bright as the sea in summer. “Papa?”

Silvio slides off the light, white coat he is wearing and then comes to where you are reading. He pretends to seriously inspect his son’s paintings as he slowly removes the golden rings from his fingers, one by one. You reach up, taking them from him and he flashes you a grin. “Keep a good eye on my treasure, tesoro.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the bad word play but you cannot resist the smile that curves your lips as Silvio lowers his long body onto the tiles, leaning close to the boy with hair pale as dolomite and eyes blue as summer skies. “Now maestro, tell me, where do we need to paint?” 

Chevalier 

Together they stand in front of the white bookshelf in her room, the one with pink painted roses climbing up the sides. He holds her small hand in his as they consider the many, many books she has managed to collect thus far in her rather short lifetime. His pale head nods towards a dark blue book with gold lettering. “We’ve only read this particular story twice.” She turns, her long pale braids swinging as she shakes her head. Her small fingers wiggle, adjusting her grip on him. “That story is about pirates and we read the story about mermaids yesterday. I would rather not have another nautical adventure.”

His inflection is echoed in her young voice, his influence in her vocabulary. He nods, eyes scanning the shelves for another, more suitable choice. “Perhaps the desert instead of the sea.” He taps a finger against a beige book with the title in darkest brown along the spine. Her head tilts to one side, brow furrowed in consideration. “Whenever we read this story and it talks about how hot the desert is, it makes me thirsty and I’ve already had-” She glances over her shoulder at where you are laying out her clothes for the next day. “How many glasses of water did I have at dinner, Mama?”

“Three,” you answer as you lay a pale blue sweater over the sunflower yellow dress you’ve chosen. She turns back to her father. “I’ve already had three.” He tears his gaze away from the bookshelf, regarding her with a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That is very pragmatic of you.” She nods solemnly, squeezing his hand before examining her books once again. Her eyes light upon a book bound in deep green leather, embossed with a tall tower made of gold. “This one!” She slips her hand from him to take the book off the shelf. Though excited, she is careful. Books are treasures and her collection is more pristine than some libraries. Chevalier looks down at her choice and you see how his expression softens. “You’ve made this selection twelve times in three weeks.” 

“I like how you say all the new words!” The book is a story of a princess who travels the world and learns how to say hello in a multitude of languages, all of which Chevalier can speak. She takes his hand in hers again, the book cradled against her chest as she leads him to the large, velvet armchair, the one whose pink perfectly matches the dusty roses adorning her bookshelf. He settles into the chair and she climbs onto his lap, scooting back until she is comfortable. Reaching around her, his arms encircling her, he holds the book upright. “Shall we begin?” She nestles against his chest, azure eyes already eagerly on the book. “Yes, Papa!” 

A split second is all it is. Just a breath of time before he opens the book, but in that space the length of a heartbeat, you see how Chevalier allows the moment in: his daughter curled up on his lap, safe in the soft, warm light of her room, eyes bright with excitement as she waits for the magic of a book to begin, for her father to create that magic for her. His expression is the tenderness the dawn has for the sky, love painted in soft hues across his noble features. And then he clears his throat, opening the book to her delighted, already sleepy smile, and begins.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[mistress-riddle]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄?

cw. sirius black x reader. cursing. humour. smth unserious being treated seriously bc sirius is involved and he’s dramatic only with his bae.

a/n. icl this was inspired by my ben barnes binge yesterday.

a shaky exhale sounded from a place nearby and you lifted your head from lazily skimming a magazine to direct part of your attention to your boyfriend hovering by the couch with a worried expression settled on his pretty features.

“you alright there, siri?” you ask, your eyes went back to looking over the page you were previously on before flipping to the next, not too bothered by sirius’ presence.

“babe, i think i’m finally ready.” 

.

all of your focus was funnelled to sirius but your gaze remained on the colourful paper as you cleared your throat “what are you ready for, honey?”

another exhale escaped his lips, hands clutching at each other and he sets his face to express determination “i’m ready for you know what.” he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

discarding the magazine, you stand up to face sirius, hands darting to hold his own “i’m glad you trust me to do this for you, sweetie, it’ll be alright and over before you know it.” you release the grasp to place one hand on his cheek, and drag your fingers through his wavy hair.

“be gentle with me, please.” his voice verges on a pleading tone, eyes holding a desperate undertone behind them. his hand escapes your 2-hand clutch to hold your left hand in his right, and your right hand that was gliding through his tresses in his other.

“of course, anything for you, dear.” long gone was their usual teasing and bickering and in its place came compassion and softness. this was a huge deal.

“thank you, love.” you guide him to your bathroom and get him seated on the stool before the large mirror.

“give me a sec, hun.” you pat his head before leaving him to search the required items. doubt begins to build within him once more but he works harder to push it down with a gulp and you’re by his side a few moments later “okay, we can always stop if you don’t want to do this siri, don’t let your friends force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“please, just get it over and done with.” he almost cries and you shake your head, giving him a back hug before tapping his shoulder in understanding.

“it’s okay baby, i’ll love you the same regardless.” sirius appreciates the sentiment, eyes blinking in gratitude, finding comfort in holding your hand tightly “alright, close your eyes, i’ll be quick.” 

sirius complies, lashes fluttering as his eyes close shut and he finds himself grasping at your thighs from behind you for comfort, you let him be for the time being as it was yet to be a hindrance to your procedure. 

around 20 minutes later your hand grasped sirius’ jaw and he looked up at the mirror, gazing wide eyed at the reflection it presented. “holy shit...” he ran his fingers through his hair once or twice (probably 10 times) and turned to face you so quickly he might’ve gotten whiplashed in the process “is it possible that i look even better?”

“yeah, this is actually unfair,” you sigh, arms crossing as you study his appearance “i guess i should be happy that i’m so lucky.”

“and here i thought not having long hair would make me look...” he grimaces “average.”

sirius whose hair was close to growing past his shoulders now donned a haircut that did not pass the nape of his neck. he hasn’t had hair this short since his 3rd year at hogwarts, choosing to instead grow it long because he believed he looked better that way plus it annoyed his mother (a well added bonus if you asked him).

“you’re so annoying, you know that?” you roll your eyes, lightly shoving him before retreating to your bed and you can hear sirius following you.

“yeah, you tell me that every day,” he proudly claims “it’s part of my charm.” he winks.

“you said that about your hair but that’s currently in the bin.” 

“but with my devilishly good looks i’m bound to look amazing with any hairstyle, who would’ve known that long hair was just inhibiting my full potential?” sirius was so quick to find another mirror located in your bedroom and admire his new hairdo.

“i hate the fact that i can’t even argue on that, you handsome motherfucker.”