#a love confession where they both kept their eyes and golden cores

[yaoyang]

yaoyang + spanish dubs

#the untamed #theuntamededit #fytheuntamed #cqledit #yaoyang #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #original yaoyang #you can ask candice (candicewright) and they will confirm this is what these two said in the spanish dub #a love confession that doesn't involve anyone being held hostage or dying #a love confession where they both kept their eyes and golden cores #their domestic bliss doesn't involve lies or a town full of puppets #no sworn brother was harmed because of their love #can your otp say the same? #there's more ships but the result is the same #mi otp es mejor que el tuyo

[annmarcus63]

GIVE US TO HIM

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Warning: this might hurt a little

on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/34157128

Grandma said once that to give away your raw score is forbidden.

"Your heart in it's full rawness, chaos, is a precious and dangerous thing. Never you should do something as giving it to someone else."

"But our ancestors used to do it. Look ma ¡look!" said Jaskier holding his story book on the air for grandma's tired eyes to see. A handsome knight was lying on the dry grass, dying from a wound on his stomach. He started calling for his love, an ancient fae with blond hair and fair skin. She fell upon the prairie from the charged clouds, with something shiny between her hands. The fae feed the wound with her raw core, her heart. The knight lived along side her, flying amongst the starry night, happily ever after. "This are just stories, Julian" said Grandma with contened anger in her dry voice. She took the book and close it on her thighs "Things were rarely like that. Knights and kings are more inclined to use our cores against us and other people. We can't recover from that loss" Julian look at the drawing on the coverbook, the fae was kneeled by a pond and the knight stood glorious in practically all the cover, leaving a very small space for the real hero, the one who save the life of the protagonist.

"Never give your raw core away. Stop reading these, THEY wrote this, Julian, you must be clever than her" said Grandma pointing at the beautiful fae. Julian nod, undesrtanding much more that he wanted to, and so little, so so little. Maybe that was the reason his family were hiding, they never express it in a literal way, that was the point really, but Julian notice anyway. The way, for example, of how they said their names and the rust taste that was left on the air after. It was common to hide their real names for fae, but you'd give that name knowing it's false, on the opposite when you say the false name thinking is the real one then another fae would know. Losing the self was something of a disease between the fae. Jaskier later knew that his parents have not choice but to lose themselves to save the lineage. Most fae really. Humans did that. Like they did to the elfes. Julian promise to never forget about the fae from his last storybook. He'll never forget about her sacrifice and the sacrifice of his people. But come on, after some years it was just naturally that, despite the wound on the history, a selfish creature he was and he forgot. He was raised as human, and he wanted to be a bard oh how he want it. And he did accomplish that, and a bloody good one that's for sure. Fae were extinct for all the world and that wasn't a cover, they're doomed to extinction sooner or later. It has been years since the last time Jaskier felt another fae being born. He is Jaskier troubadour, master of the seven liberal arts a mastermind amongst the crowds, a legend…an idiot most of the time basically.

What grandma failed to mention is that for a fae to be able to give their core away the recipient must be worthy at the eyes of the fae. Once this worthiness makes evident, that person would plant roots in the core itself, whether the fae want it or not. It's inevitable. Grandma should have said "be aware of where you place your heart. Hold it until you're fully sure of them" But well, it wouldn't have matter in the end. Jaskier have never being someone who follows advice, much less from his dead relative. It happened naturally, like breathing, eating and shitting. One moment he was standing next to Geralt under a pouring rain, the witcher kept looking for a missing girl on the edges of the woods, her parents place a bounty on the towns board, they couldn't offer payment in form of crowns but they're willing to let them sleep on the girl’s room. Jaskier became indignant, how a witcher is supposed to take a payless bounty? No, that is unacceptable. But despite the protesting bard and zero reward whatsoever Geralt went anyway, he look for a girl who surelly was already dead.

"I found her body near the cave by the pond. You can go for her by morning when it's safe. I'm sorry" after a minute of silence the parents with equal expression of cold sorrow release a heavy sigh charged with so much grief.

"What did it?" asked the father

"Nekkers. I got rid of the pack living there"

"Thank you, witcher. You and your bard can come in, i'm sure you're exhausted” Said the mother with great effort, like someone who can't breathe quite well.

Geralt rapidly added "No, I'm sure you and your husband need time to resign and mourn alone. My bard and i already had another place to stay" Eh, no they didn't.

"But...we don't have any crowns"

"I didn't do this for payment" And while the parents thanked infinitely to Geralt, Jaskier felt something wild and untamed surging from his chest. Reaching unabashed for the witcher with a big golden heart standing next to him, explaining to a mourning parents that he went to search for their lost daughter because he wanted to help. This new awareness of chaos, he knew what it was.

Chaos, core, raw.

And it had marked Geralt as his. We want him.

Give us to him. He's worthy.

He was doomed, so doomed from the very beginning since they encounter each other on Posada. Grandma tried to warn him of this. Oh grandma, you and i both know that I was never obedient or wise. So Jaskier let it happen, four years after knowing the witcher and his raw core already belong to him. But he didn't do it. He hold back despite the urgency on his chest because he wasn't sure it'll be welcome. Geralt was still trying to get rid of him in every town, sometimes Jaskier felt like a pet you don't want but you can't abandon it either. Surely there'd be a time in the future. And Jaskier wait and fell in love deeply with each passing year. And Geralt...well he was the same and also different in his own way, more at ease around him, softer maybe. Jaskier didn't need to be call a friend to felt like one to Geralt. They're friends, even if one part has being in denial for the past decade.

And then the djinn happened follow by the complicated affair with one Yennefer of Vandenberg. The curse caused the core to retreat afraid and wounded. He hurt us, he wished to hurt us. Jaskier argued with the voice that it wasn't his intention, he didn't even know he was the one with the wishes. In truth his heart shattered not for the wish but for the easiness in which the sorceress become someone important to Geralt, something to hold on to even if drowning. One decade and still Jaskier thinks he haven't reached that relationship level with his friend.

He doesn't want us

No.

"Uhmm?"

"What?"

"You said no"

"Oh, it's nothing" Geralt didn't ask again

But weak and in love he was, the raw core and him reached out again, with fully open arms for Geralt to pull. Jaskier long to belong to him, oh how he did.

Yennefer and her shining imbecile knight join the hunt and he was jealous because as soon as she appear the witcher was drooling as if she was all he needed to shut down the darkness inside.

Don't you know? inside me there's a full light waiting for you to hold

At the softness of the afternoon Jaskier found Geralt sitting on a rock lost, as usual, in though. But this time were different, he had failed three people, Borch's dead has left a wound that surely would scar badly. And the bard felt a deep sadness for his golden heart witcher. He's definitely blaming himself for the fall, for that narrow and insecure path alongside the mountain as if he was the one to build it.

Jaskier asked him to come with him to his home, to the coast, he yearn to be there with him and feel the sea wind on their faces while walking by a cliff near a quiet village that Geralt wouldn't mind to visit.

We want to be his.

Give us to him.

We can love him better.

But Geralt didn't want him, he wanted Yennefer.

He give himself to him anyway.

"Here" said Jaskier putting a hand on Geralt's thigh, surprise, instead of flinching away Geralt held Jaskier's hand and with most carefulness took what was inside the palm. A small glass vial, similar to the ones where he pours his potions. He held it on his gloved open hand. There was something inside, warm and inviting. White, almost yellow that make Geralt felt calm and safe.

"What's this?"

"A gift. It'd take care of you" Geralt frown at him, confused and uncertain of what it meant, but he took it with a barely there smile only for Jaskier to see.

He's a coward, he couldn't confessed him the reality of what it meant because he was terrified of being rejected, grandma said that a rejection is so devastating that it might kill him. And even at this point in their friendship Jaskier couldn't know for sure.

It's me. Take me, i'll protect and save you if needed to. Have me, please have me.

Geralt went that night at Yennefer's tent and Jaskier felt glad for not having told him the truth

"If life could give me a blessing it would be to take you off my hands"

No, no, not now.

They're doing fine.

And then very fast very suddenly Geralt reached for his breast pocket to held the vial of raw core on his fist and toss it unceremoniously to the hard soild.

The noise of shattered glass invaded Jaskier's ears before the heavy blankness surged from his chest to every corner of him.

“No, no, no” said he, giving a fumbling step towards the vial but deciding to turn around instead.

Away away away away.

He can't see me like this.

Something was tearing in fine lines caused by the trembling, an earthquake from his very bones that were fighting on maintaining their solid formation. Something inside was bawling with such and intensity that make his ears bleed.

Was this dying? let it be death for he can no longer take it. Does breathing always hurt this much? like if his lungs were filled with wool and the air only add heaviness on them. What was this? a beating heart, so afraid so betrayed, like a laugh from his ancestors. He wanted to throw up his intestines, they're on fire, but when he tried only saliva flood. He was not himself anymore, and to become whole was an impossibility that the pain was making sure off. Dirt get inside his mouth, his cheek on the ground was getting cut by rocks. A voice calling for him to react, to say something. But he no longer have a voice, he was death itself preparing for a long dream.

I’m sorry grandma.

I'm sorry, said to himself

and he remembered the blond fae on the cover book between grandma's hands, of how she give her life to save her love one, but who'd give their life for her?

who'd give their life for him?

He needed to sleep, right here on the mountain ground, to become whole again or at least half whole.

He begged for death instead.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #fae au #fae jaskier #hurt jaskier #sorry for the cliffhanger

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Eyes on the Glass

Kinktober: Day 6, Mirrors

Loki x Reader

A fight between lust and self-deprecation ensues, all with the help of Loki’s room a mirrors.

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, a little choking, angst, self-deprecation, fluff

If there was one thing you knew about Loki it was that he liked mirrors. His bedroom was like a funhouse. Instead of paintings, ornate mirrors he would never admit he had bought from a mortal thrift store cover every inch of his walls. He collected shards and laid them across his windowsills until the room looked like a kaleidoscope. Even at night the reflective glass collected the stars and threw them across the room.

One day you had asked him why.  He claimed it was because it reminded him f the long hallways and glamorous tea rooms he had grown up in, but you still believed it was just because he liked to look at himself. Not that you could blame him, someone so beautiful shouldn’t be denied the right to reflect across so many surfaces.

It was a completely different story for you. Before you had even met Loki and his mirrors you could barely stand to look it one. From the moment your reflection was staring back at you, you couldn’t help but notice the flaws clustered across your face. Old acne scars and cheeks that turned red too easily were only the tip of the iceberg. Some days you even went as far as unscrewing the light bulbs in your bathroom, just so you could go about your day in peace.

And now you were living amongst the prettiest people in America, it just wasn’t fair.

Loki had been the target of your affection for months. Once you were able to get over the nasty little thought of what he had done to New York and he started treating you like an actual human being, it was impossible to stop your torrent of feelings for the god. So, stuck in a state of pining and self-deprecation. It didn’t help that the woman that flocked to his side were the utter opposite of you. Slender where you were muscular, smooth where you were rough, and graceful where you were awkward.

You thought you knew pain, but it seemed that nothing compared to the sound of Loki leading a new girl to his bedroom night after night. You wanted to move your room, there were plenty of others but the only thing worse than listening to Loki’s conquests was the idea that he would know you were hurt. He was your friend, and moving would not only ruin your friendship, but you were sure it would only make you more miserable.

And so, with all your pining and misery you were spending yet another evening home alone with only a glass of wine and another trashy romantic drama for company. You used to like time spent alone, but now it seemed like that was all your time.

Beneath the layers of sadness and mundanity it was no surprise that when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts you jumped about a mile high.

“Loki,” you gasped with a laugh, clutching your heart with a trembling hand, “I didn’t realize you were home.” Quickly you gave him a once over, taking in the casual clothes he had chosen for the evening, nothing like the black suits he normally chose when he went hunting.

“I decided to spend the night with you if that’s alright?” he said and your heart nearly jumped through your ribs as you tried to remain calm enough to give him an answer.

“Of course, I’d love nothing more,” you replied, folding your feet beneath you, offering him a spot on the loveseat. He smiled and accepted. You tried not to notice the feeling of the couch shifting as he sat or the way he patted your leg in the most ‘let’s just be friends’ way possible. “Do you want some wine?” He nodded and you jumped off the couch, racing towards the kitchen for an extra wine glass; thankful for the excuse to catch your breath and slow the heartbeat you know he could hear.

You returned to the couch and sat on the opposite end, practically cuddling with the armrest.

“Y/N, come, sit closer,” he instructed and nervously you moved closer. He smiled and pulled you close, wrapping an arm around you and tugging your feet over his lap. After a few moments you relaxed and reveled in what was happening. You gave yourself a subtle pinch, just to check if it was a dream but nothing had ever seemed realer.

Eventually the movie drew to a close and the two of you were absolutely trashed over the expensive dessert wine you had snuck from Tony’s special stash. He had managed to pull you into his lap, and you were both laughing about nothing. You met the man’s eyes and suddenly silence engulfed the room. You tried to turn away, but something stopped you, something soft and sweet, something that couldn’t possibly be his lips pressed against yours. It couldn’t possibly be that sort of something, and yet it was.

Kissing Loki was better than you had ever imagined. The way his hands held you and the way he seemed to murmur confessions against your lips sent your heart into a whirlwind. You’re not exactly sure how it all happened after that. One second you were straddling him, hips rolling forward as he ravished your mouth and the next, he was carrying you to his bedroom, legs still wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t until he tossed you on the bed that you seemed to sober up.

Those cursed mirrors were everywhere, and they were all staring at you, with deep, hateful eyes. In a panic, you shoved him away, gasping for air.

“What, what is it?” he asked but you were to busy staring. What on god’s earth were you doing here? Scurrying out of bed you made a break for the door.

“How could I be so stupid. If I wanted to be a fool there are easier ways to do it,” you muttered to yourself, throwing open the door. Your room was so close your fingers were brushing the doorknob when a pair of strong arms pulled you back.

“Y/N, what have I done?” he asked, but shame kept you silent. You just wanted to close your eyes and forget you had ever seen such a sight. “Y/N, please.” God, he was pleading now. He sounded like you were causing him pain, like he wanted to look at you.

“I can’t, not with the mirrors,” you whispered, watching his face with dismay. He raised an eyebrow before his face was filled with an angry understanding.

“Y/N, do you not believe you are beautiful?”

“You’re drunk,” you choked out with an angry laugh, but he shook his head.

“Mortal wine does nothing to me, and even if it did, I have never been more sober. Now, I asked you a question. Do you not believe you are beautiful?”

“Not compared to the other woman that you sleep with.”

“They are nothing compared to you.” Now you really were laughing, and he was frowning. When it seemed that it was not all a cruel joke your laughter subsided, and shock took over. Was he blind? Was he even speaking to you? “Come, let me show you what my mirrors are really for.”

Lamely you allowed him to take your hand and lead you into the dreaded room. He positioned you in front of the largest of the mirrors and after a few moments, told you to watch. You shakily pulled your eyes away from the golden frame you had been so ardently studying and locked eyes with his reflection. As you stared the shock of his confession only grew stronger. You were certainly nothing to look at, especially in nothing but a long sleep shirt and ponytail.

If only you had dressed up for such an event.

He pulled the hair tie from your hair and allowed the messy locks to fall around your shoulders. He pulled your gaze away from the mirror for a moment, only to kiss you, and then your eyes returned, just as his hands found the hemline of your shirt. As he lifted it over your thighs you squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to look at the haggish sight that would send him running for the hills.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded as the fabric hit the floor. You shook your head and a soft hand wrapped around your throat, thumb brushing against your chin with impatience. Hesitantly, ever so hesitantly, you obeyed.

The moment you saw yourself in the mirror was not a magical one, in fact, you were impressed you didn’t run from the room that very second. The only thing that was different was Loki, who was staring at your with eyes that screamed lust. With his hands wrapped around you, cupping your chest it seemed he was unable to pull his eyes away. The hand that enveloped your chest drifted down your stomach and two fingers dipped into your dripping core.

It was a strange sight, to watch your body react to something so wonderful. Your muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along your skin, and it was all there for your viewing pleasure. You were able to see the very moment his fingers entered you and the way your lips parted as a moan drifted off your tongue. The mirror caught everything, every droplet of sweat, every quiver, every deep breath. You tried to look away, but he always returned your eyes to the reflective glass, whispering words that you could barely hear over the sound of your won ecstasy. When your legs began to shake he turned you around and returned you to the bed, a sweaty, whiny mess.

“On your hands and knees,” he demanded, and you did so, angling your body just enough to avoid any reflection. He seemed to catch onto your plan quickly and yanked your hips to side, returning your gaze to the mirror where he had tortured you moments before. His hard member touched the achy folds of your center and you let out an explicit moan, backing your hips against his length. He grabbed your hips and slid into your entrance, stretching you all along the way. “If you take your eyes off that mirror I will stop until I am satisfied they have returned. Do you understand?” You nodded and then it began. With grace and dignity he thrust inside of you, his hand drifting to your hair and tugging, as if to remind you where your eyes belonged.

It was truly a sight to behold. He was like a king in his courtroom, staring down at you with desire. Even stranger so, you looked… incredible. With every thrust your body responded deliciously, muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Your hair brushed against your cheeks like that of an angel being taken by something unholy. It seemed you too couldn’t take your eyes off the sinful sight in front of you. It was your own personal erotica.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled and for the first time that night you believed him.

Your legs were shaking again, trembling at the force of his repeated attacks. You were so close you could feel it in your chest, twisting and aching to explode, and with one final thrust you both did so, riding through the high until you were exhausted. Ina heap of sweat and ecstasy you collapsed, pulling Loki’s lips to yours. His kiss was soft and sweet once again, no sign of the previous domination remained.

“Do you believe me, my love?” he asked, and your heart fluttered as you nodded. He smiled, as if this had been his plan all along. With a final conscious breath you closed your eyes, the last thought that crossed your mind was, of course this had been his plan along, he was the Trickster God after all.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fluff #marvel #avengers #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #kinktober #mirrors #loki angst #loki fluff #loki smut

[justalittletomato]

Make me Yours(smut  Darth Maul X Reader)

(SMUT 18+ please be responsible with the content you read. )

A/N: I mentioned I had some more of this sort of content coming up, and here we are. Here we have three categories, angst, fluff, smut, and more fluff as well as overuse of the word Goddess. Enjoy and as always be responsible for the content you read.  Read more as always on these 

Summary:  They haven’t done this, oh but how they wish too, its new and frightening and everything he should fear. Her tenderness soothes such worried and her kiss is a promise. 

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (let me know if I need other ones) 

His connections to others had been limited, seeking to bring pain or only receiving it in return. With only a tether to reach for revenge. This was all he had ever known.

Slowly, a new connection had begun to form, unlike the rest it this was foreign from all he had known and frightening. Love was unknown and always silenced. He should be running from this or trying to destroy it.

To admit weakness was to admit defeat, leaving one open to attack, a strike to a heart left vulnerable.  Yet, here he was in this darkened room with his Starlight. Both beings bare to the other with only candlelight to guide them.

In his memory fire was never gentle it claimed and ate away, but here the candles flickered casting a soft glow to the bedroom. He had never known fire to be almost tame until now.

His Starlight straddled his hips, she wasn’t frightened despite having her bare flesh atop of cold metal. As always she waited and sought to ensure that he was alright. Her fingertips tracing the tattoos around his eyes, there was nothing but love in her gaze. Never had another being referred to him with such tenderness, her hands now holding his face, she asked again if he wanted this.

Never had he been given a choice. His hands moved from the silky sheets to touch her, marveling at the soft flesh of her thighs under his hands, her small gasp was encouraging. She never feared his touch. His hands moved from her thighs to her hips, entranced on how someone so beautiful could be in his grasp. She was ever the responsive type, a breathy sigh heard as those hands went up over her sides and higher brushing over her breasts. She arched back slightly letting him marvel and touch where he pleased, her pretty moans indicative of her enjoyment.

Normally, he was rough in these circumstances, thier time behind the library shelves evident of that. Both of them often having to tug up collars and pulling clothes back in place to hide the marks they left on another.  Those instances were always heated, nothing like this.

She adjusted herself slightly in his lap, the motion causing his cock to brush against her, he couldn't help but moan at the friction. His Starlight moved once more, again another moan threatened to break through but Maul put a hand over his mouth to trap it. She moved his hand away, “ Don’t hold back, Maul. I want to hear every lovey sound you make.”

Long ago he learned not to cry out, not to show any outward display of emotion that did not encompass anger. Now in her arms such actions were sought, they were encouraged. He was able to cry out, moan, shout, and scream; it was an offer he couldn't refuse.  Golden eyes were illuminated  in the darkened room lit only by candles, “As loud as I want?” he needed her confirmation, his Starlight nodded, “And as much as you want.”

Her hands explored his bare form as he did with her, running from his shoulder, down his muscled chest and stomach, to the v shape of his hips, reveling at the groans he gave as she teased lower. they Traveled back up to rest over his atop his hearts, their beats thrumming under her palms, “ Are you nervous?” she asked this only a short distance from his lips, one small movement and they’d touch.

“It’s many things, I can’t name them all,” he confessed leaning a bit so their lips brushed, it was a ghost of a kiss quickly eclipsed by pleasure when Y/N rocked her hips to get closer, her core again teasing his cock.

He wanted nothing more than to throw her down on the sheets, desire pulsing and raging under his skin and causing him to ache.

Maker, the things he wanted to do, ravage her and make her his completely. To curb  these temptations his hands moved to touch and grip at her chest; in his haste his nails pressed a bit too deeply. Y/N yelped at the sudden prick of pain.  Maul immediately released her, arms pulled away and hands balled into fists.

He could feel his nails press into his palms, sharp too sharp for soft skin.  He could already see crescent indents forming at her breasts.  He looked away, he had ruined this already. Her hand reached out to stroke his jaw coaxing him to return back to her, “ You got a little carried away ,” her voice calm, “That’s alright. “

Maul  furrowed his brow, “ Please don’t try to make light of this. This is dangerous. I haven’t..” he pauses, “ I haven’t done anything like this for so long.” he didn’t even recall the first time, and now all those years of isolation, denial of any affections and unreleased rage had sparked these desires to hold down and mark, “My kind can get violent in such moments.”  

Rather than push him away like any sensible person should  Y/N leaned in closer, y e/c eyes bright and her cheeks turning shades darker, “OH.”

She was ever so eager to find out, he could hear it in her small sound of surprise, the notion made him shiver, she truly wanted this. She wanted him. He needed to hear her say it, “Yet you still want to do this, with me?”

Y/N shyly smiled, “ Very much” she kissed his cheek to assure him, “Shall I lay back now?”

They weren’t getting out this…

“Yes,” he breathed, Maker, please let me take her.

She did as requested, her hair laid out on black sheets, as the candles flickered and glowed casting light upon her.  Now Maul didn’t believe in deities but in this moment Y/N was truly a Goddess before him. She smiled at him and spread her legs apart, already aroused by his touch from earlier and the promise this would be something to remember, his cock twitched at the sight.  

Maul placed himself between her legs, staring down at her all laid out for him. Yes, a Goddess was a fitting name for her now. He brushed the head of cock against her folds, already moaning as he began to push in slowly. His own sounds of pleasure echoed by Y/N. Despite her moans, she had to hold him back before he moved in too fast, no matter how good and full he was making her feel, “ You have to go slow, my darling.”

Human and Zabraks together were rare, and the size difference was evident when they first ventured into this. His cock was wider and ridged nothing like a human, without proper preparation, Maul frowned at his overreach. Her body was inviting and warm,  

he wanted nothing more than to just loose himself. But that would hurt his Goddess, he wanted none of that.

Y/N could see his hesitation, “ Just go slow at first, I’ll tell you right away, for now just start slowly,” Maul placed one hand by her head the other helping to guide himself further inside her. He seemed to calculated for such as task, his brow ridge furrowed and his usual scowl deepening. She couldn’t have him like that,  “ Kiss me as you do it.” his Goddess beckoned, Maul relaxed slightly and did as she asked.

Thier lips gently moved together as Maul pushed in between her folds. Focusing on the kiss and making sure to savor each moan she let out.

Maul was already groaning into their kiss, how could this feel so incredible already? He pulled away to look at her, Y/N’s eyes shut and biting her lip as the first ridge was almost done, “Just bit more.” she moaned.

It was permission to continue, instead of his hand gripping the black sheets he laced his fingers with one of her hands the other gripping the pillows behind her. The first ridge was in, the lovers moaned together. It was only the first and Y/N was in pure bliss while Maul kept trying to resist the urge to just sink inside her all at once. He had to resist.

Maybe this was already too much, without warning the ache he had felt increased and caused him to shout, Y/N mewled as he spilled inside her. He shouldn’t have done that, maker could he not even last?

He tried to pull away only for his Goddess to grab him by his shoulders and tighten her legs around his hips, “Don’t…. Don't go.” her already darkened cheeks deepened more, “It’s fine, please don’t go,”

She still wanted him, Maul leaned back in, and nuzzled agains her neck as she whispered into his ear, “ That just shows me how much love I still need to give you, you’ve been without it. So please let me love you.” he lifted his head to kiss her, “You’re too good to me.”

 He took his place again and pushed in further, this time as the second ridge went in Y/N hitched her breath, there was pain, but it was engulfed by how full she felt, Maker humans were ruined now, and he wasn’t even all the way in yet?

“Can I keep going? “ please say yes, he was struggling to make assurances while nestled inside her, all he wanted was to drive his hips forward and bury himself within her.

“ Yes, oh yes,” her answer breathy, “More,” the hands on his shoulders gripped a bit tighter, “ Give me more”

How could he deny her or himself that?

Her hips wriggled, desperate to feel him and take more within her. Each movement bringing Maul to moan as he fulfilled her request, with a groan the last ridge went in.

“OH. Oh Maul” she could cry, it was almost too much, the tinge of pain was present for now. The Zabrak was groaning, grasping at the sheets stopping himself from just slipping out and slamming into her, “ Can I move?” he begged,  “ Goddess, tell me I can move please?”

Goddess?! Maker, he was everything.  She wanted to say yes, oh how she wanted to say yes, “ Just a moment,” she whispered. He listened, slightly grimacing as he had to hold himself back again his nails almost piercing through the silk sheets, and his breaths grew ragged at his efforts. As Y/N’s pain subsided, pleasure began to eclipse her every nerve. She willed her hands to move down  to his arms and have him lace their fingers together, Maul waited with bated breath to hear her request, “Please move ” she was not one to beg but calling her Goddess would do it, “ Please love me.”

“As my Goddess commands,” instead of keeping thier hands joined Maul took the chance to hold her wrists down against the sheets. Y/N heart raced.

Their hips pressed in tune with another, starting slow, he had to be gentle for now. Her parted lips let out whispered praises at the delightful feeling of Maul’s cock slipping  in and out of her. Her eyes half closed and body ever so responsive to his slightest touch. Now this was an exquisite sight, one that would burn in his memory, as well as the remarkable sensations of her pussy enveloping his cock with each thrust. Slow and paced with groans and moans, it was all wonderful, but it wasn’t enough.

He could have had this earlier on, he let go of her wrists, opting to lay kisses along her throat and collar, while his hands moved to hitch her legs higher on his hips. He reached even deeper inside her, Y/N’s eyes rolled back as he was now brushing over that mark inside her each time, “ I can take it if you go faster,” she needed him to do it, “Oh Maul please.”

His control was falling away, fueled by his Goddess requests.  

Their movements picked up pace, Y/N let out a startled cry at the pressure building inside of her. Leaving her gasping as each thrust found its mark inside her. She wouldn't last like this, each time his cock slammed into her just right.

Her hands moved to clutch at his back, nails dragging down his muscles and leaving faint scratches that had him groaning. “ Your perfect” another thrust, “ Incredible,” she gasped, that pressure now burning her,  “ I’m…” she didn’t get to finish as she screamed her release. Maybe it was her cry that finally broke him, but what happened next was Y/N trying to come down from her high only for Maul to just ram into her without care, he wanted to hear that scream again.

She didn’t try to stop him, she wanted all he could give her.

The gentleness he so tried to carry  was gone overtaken by the need to ravage and devour, he pulled all the way out to look down at Y/N panting, her eyes dazed and body shivering from the loss of his touch, Maker, he was responsible for this. he slammed his cock back inside her, each thrust driven by the satisfaction that those cries were his doing. He was making a mess of her, the sounds  from her lips and body were sinful and echoing through the room. If a passerby would walk past the doors they’d know the screams of a divine Goddess being pleasured and his own growls to keep away, she was his alone.

There was no tempo to his thrusts now, just  desperation to feel and pleasure them both, Y/N struggled to hold onto him, to bring some tempo, but she couldn't stop herself from pushing him on, “ More…more” her hips would be bruised after this, “ Please..please more,” again that pressure in her belly, “ Make me yours!”  Maul took that command into his hearts, placing his hands on either side of the head board and did as his Goddess asked.  

1..2 the bed hit the wall.. 3..Maker..4… she could die right now and thank him. “Mine..” he chanted with each slam of the bed, “ mine…” that burning feeling was encompassing him again, with each movement he was getting closer as he ravaged and fucked her. “ Let go, Maul,” his Goddess managed to breathe out, another loud slam of the bed, another breath, “ You're beautiful like this, let go.”

Maul snapped, screaming as he came. iHe was burning, but it was a fire that he didn’t want to escape from. She screamed as he filled her again, coming undone for the second time that night. The burning receded, and the headboard was relinquished, Y/N was still shaking from what had just happened, Maul moved his hands to either side of her face, “ Are you alright?”

His usually piercing golden eyes had softened to a glow, pretty dazed honey eyes gazing at her y e/c.  How should she answer, “I never want to leave this bed” instead she smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, “ My beautiful, “ another kiss, “incredible,” another kiss, “ divine, love of mine” each little praise and kiss had him moaning again, and more so as her kisses moved from his lips to pepper all over his face.  

His starlit goddess’s praises were answered prayers, each little touch and kiss a sign that she had answered him.  One last kiss on the lips, this one sweet and slow, a sharp contrast to the absolute mess they had made of another.

She groaned as he slipped out of her evidence of what they had done now spilling onto the sheets. Part of him wanted to take her again, but Maul could resist it, his Goddess needed rest. He forced himself out of her embrace and out of the bed, her hand reached out to stop him from leaving, she wanted nothing more than to just slip into sleep with him at her side, “We have to get you cleaned up my Goddess,” with little effort he lifted her from the bed, one arm under her knees and the other at her back. There was that name again, her cheeks burned, “ I’m no Goddess,” she whispered as he carried her to the refresher.

Now he couldn't have her in doubt not after she had so lovingly took him into her bed and granted him such pleasures, “ I beg to differ, such a divine creature is worthy of such a name and gets treated as such,” Y/N didn’t argue with him only blushing more with each compliment, “ May I give you a name as well?” she whispered, “ It won't be as good,” he was slightly surprised but intrigued, “ What name will you bestow on me?”

“ Dawn,” she let a hand cup his cheek, “Its in your eyes, at times a harsh golden light at others more gentle in hue and each time I look forward to seeing it,” she gets one more kiss, “I look forward to hearing it more,”

“ You will, my darling Dawn. I promise you that.”

#darth maul x reader #darth maul x y/n #maul x y/n #maul x reader #star wars x you #maul #darth maul #overuse of affectionate names #maul as always contemplating capacity to be with person #just loving #but smut #darth maul x you #maul x you #star wars smut

[princess-of-riviaa]

Dark Minx: Touching the Asset

Training the Asset

Showing the Asset

Pairing: slight Hydra!Steve x OFC (Larisa Antonov), James Barnes x OFC (Larisa Antonov)

Summary: Larisa’s jealousy of James’s sudden success comes to a boiling point.

Warning(s): angsty angst, (sort of) FWB!Steve, Hydra!Steve, James is very good at pretending he knows what he’s doing, dirty talk, fingering, oral (F receiving), slight pain kink (hair pulling), fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Larisa heard the reports whispered between guards in the hallways of Hydra’s base: “The Asset took the Dark Minx’s lessons to another level,” “I never would have pegged The Winter Soldier for the seducing type, but he seemed to do pretty well on his last mission,” “The Winter Soldier is making a new name for himself through Europe with all the women he’s been with.” Larisa knew not to be surprised by this, and deep down, she knew she wasn’t. But she couldn’t ignore the pang in her chest that came with every word spoken about The Asset these days. That wet, bitter feeling in her chest was foreign. She had no idea what it was, only that she hated it. The feeling made her angry. In the weeks that followed The Asset’s first mission since their training lessons, Larisa’s temper stayed on a short leash. She found herself snapping at those around her more often. But no one called her out on it.

Until Steve found himself in her chamber one day, balls deep inside of her. She clenched the sheets between her fingers as he fucked her from behind. The occasional slap of his hand against her ass made her cry out wantonly, but she was otherwise silent. She couldn’t stop thinking about James fucking those nameless women on his missions. Was he rough with them, the way Steve was with her now? Or was he gentle, slow, teasing? Did he lose himself in their bodies, in the way they stretched around his cock? Did those women make him moan and cry out with ecstasy, the way she longed to do?

Larisa was so lost in her torturous thoughts that she didn’t realize Steve had stopped fucking her until the bed shifted with the absence of his weight. She watched him clean himself up. His gaze was curious as he stared at her.

“How often have you been thinking about him fucking you?” he asked suddenly.

Larisa froze. Was she really that easy to read? “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re—”

“You said his name when I was inside of you,” Steve pointed out. Upon seeing Larisa’s eyes widen, he shrugged and added, “I could care less about who’s name you cry out when we fuck. This is transactional to both of us, an itch we both need to scratch.”

Yes, that had been the deal they’d made almost a year ago now. When they needed a release and Steve wasn’t going to find it on a mission, or Larisa with a soldier she was training, they could come to each other. No strings attached. Just sex. Rough, wild, animalistic sex—exactly what they both craved deep down.

Steve went on, “I’m only saying this because I’d rather have you around than not: but be careful. If any of our commanders find out your relationship to The Asset is more than what it’s supposed to be—if they catch word that there’s any sort of emotions involved, they’ll get rid of both of you.” They’ll kill you, is what he didn’t say. “It would be a pain in my ass to find someone else in this place who fucks as good as you do, so try not to let that happen.”

Larisa didn’t know what to say. That was the closest to “nice” that Steve had ever been with her. His edges were all rough, his personality a rough callous. “Sentimental” wasn’t a word she would use to describe him. Yet here he was, warning her to stay out of trouble. Telling her that he would miss her.

“Here I was thinking Hydra’s Golden Boy didn’t have a heart,” she finally remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Steve didn’t take the bait, but the look in his eyes said enough. He really would be upset if something happened to her.

She admitted in a quiet voice, “You know that all of that… I’d say the same to you.” She was bad at this, at talking about emotions, at letting herself care about someone. She didn’t really know how to put it into words.

But from the look in his eyes, she knew that Steve heard what she wasn’t able to say. “Until next time,” he said, and then left.

…

“It’s been decided that you’ve more than excelled in everything that I can teach you,” Larisa said to James the next day. She didn’t look him in the eye, nor did she speak to him in the soft tone she usually reserved for him. In fact, she hadn’t uncrossed her arms since he’d entered her room. “So we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh.” Was that… disappointment in his voice?

No. She was reading into things. And even if he was disappointed… it didn’t matter. She’d barely see him after today. Whatever they had was done.

“What did I do wrong?” James asked after a minute of tense silence.

She looked at him for the first time today. God, he was beautiful. She would miss being this close to him every day. But she couldn’t find it in herself to say anything, not when opening her mouth would just bring trouble.

“You’re acting strange,” James noted, taking a step towards where she leaned against the wall. “You’re not normally like this.” He swallowed. “Not around me, at least.”

She looked away from him, bringing her eyes to the floor.

“What did I do wrong?” he repeated.

“Nothing.” Her voice was thick with bitterness. “You did it all perfectly. You fucked those women just like you were supposed to.”

James blinked. “Wait—is this about my missions?”

She didn’t say anything. The look on her face was answer enough, though.

He took another step towards her. His stride was long enough that he closed the distance between them, and suddenly his hand was on her cheek, his thumb brushing along the line of her jaw in a gentle caress. She wanted to lean into it. She wanted to cry.

“Are you… jealous?” he finally asked.

“No!” she said too quickly, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, not believing her for a second. “You sound jealous. You look it, too.”

Her face burned enough that she couldn’t find words.

“You’re jealous of those women,” he realized, “because you want me to fuck you.”

She swallowed. If she opened her mouth now, all bets were off. She’d give into her desire and that… that wouldn’t end well.

But then James’s face was buried in the crook of her neck, and his hands were on her hips, and her vision grew blurry as her heart shot to her throat. “I’ve wanted you since that first day,” he confessed, his words a caress against her skin. “Long before you ever touched me for the first time. It scared me—how much I wanted you, the things I would do to have you. Let me have you, Larisa. Please.”

She tried to push him away, but as soon as her hands pressed against his stomach, she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but bask in the warmth radiating off of him. “We can’t—”

“Give me a bad report, tell whoever you have to that my skills aren’t sufficient enough for you to stop training me.” He brushed his mouth against the space between her ear and neck and it took everything inside of her to keep from moaning. “Because one way or another, I’m coming back here tomorrow. And the next day. Now that I know you want me back, Larisa, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“James…” It came out as more of a moan than a whine of protest.

“Let me make love to you,” he breathed against her skin. “Let me touch you. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum again and again, until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t even see straight.”

Now she was definitely moaning.

He circled his thumbs around her hips, suddenly antsy to touch her somewhere else. “Can I touch you, Larisa?”

“Please.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she didn’t have a chance to take it back before his hand was between her legs.

He leaned his forehead against her own. Their shaking breaths morphed into one as her entire body burned with heat. James moved his hand in circles over her clothed core, providing just enough pressure for her hips to start bucking up with need.

“I want you so bad,” he breathed against her skin.

She moaned. “What do you want?”

“To fuck you. To make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse,” he answered as he leaned down—not to kiss her, but to tug her bottom lip between his teeth.

Her hands jumped to his shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him even closer to her. She had no doubt that her desperation was written all over her face. She wondered if that was what made James catch his breath and curse in another language—Russian, she had learned a few weeks ago. It was the language he reverted back to when arousal clouded his mind past the point of speaking coherently. And the fact that he was thinking it now…

She pulled him in for a kiss. It was quick and needy and messy, a mix of tongue and teeth and shaking breaths. And when he moved to pull away, to kiss down her neck, she pulled him back to her mouth. Because if she didn’t, if she gave herself a chance to speak… She knew exactly what she would say. She would beg him to fuck her. And that would… complicate things, to say the least. So they continued to kiss until her lips were swollen and she was drunk on the taste of him.

When he finally pulled away, it was quick. He was on his knees before she could stop him. He kept his gaze on her as he tugged her pants down, and that darkness in his eyes…

“Fuck,” she gasped, practically whimpered.

He only looked away from her when he was face to face with her sex. James really did figure out the proper way to touch a woman, because he dragged two fingers between her folds with expertise, knowing the exact pressure to apply to her clit as he started to rub it.

Larisa threw her head back. The moan she released could barely be muffled by the hand she clamped over her mouth.

“You’re so wet for me, fuck,” James breathed. And then he shoved a finger inside of her. He looked up at her as he started to finger her, watching her face closely as he increased his pace before backing off and changing to a teasingly slow tempo. “You’re so fucking sexy, Larisa. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this to you—about making you come undone from just my fingers.”

She began to grind her hips against his finger, desperate for him to increase his pace.

“I want you to cum all over my face,” he told her as he threw her leg over his shoulder, and then his mouth was on her clit and—

“James!” she cried out, her eyes squeezing shut as her mouth fell open.

She’d been fucked by plenty of skilled men before, but this time was different. All of those men… none of them had mattered. She hadn’t cared about any of them. But James… she cared about him, whether she was ready to admit it or not. And that made this so much more intense.

If she thought James had skilled fingers, it was nothing compared to his mouth. He moved his tongue between her folds and along her clit as if he’d spent years doing this, as if he already knew every spot to touch to push her all over the edge. He latched his hands around her hips, pulling her sex even tighter against his face, as if he felt that same desperation that she did—the desperate need to get infinitely closer to him. The sound of his eager tongue lapping up her juices filled the room, followed by her breathy moans and his lustful groans.

She didn’t realize she’d dug her hands into his hair until his moans grew louder. Oh, he likes that. She tugged at his roots slightly. James moaned wantonly in response. His mouth was suddenly ferocious against her pussy and she felt that delicious heat in her core grow. She was close. She was so fucking close.

“James,” she gasped. “I’m gonna... fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He breathed something against her clit in Russian. The vibration of his voice against her heat was the final straw. He continued to eagerly eat her out as she came, soaking his face with her arousal. She couldn’t quiet her moans this time, nor could she stop from crying out his name. James licked up every last drop before he finally rose to his feet.

The look in his eyes made her burn. Not because it was full of lust—which it was—but because there was another emotion there. An emotion that Larisa felt too, despite how dangerous it was.

When he kissed her, she told herself she was moaning because of the taste of her carousal on his mouth, not because he kissed her with such intensity that she knew he had feelings for her.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I think about you every time I’m with someone else?” he breathed against her mouth.

“James…” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Every. Single. Time.” He leaned his forehead against hers and breathed in deeply, as if memorizing her scent, before he reluctantly Stepped back. “I have another mission, but can I see you when I come back? I should return tomorrow night.”

She hesitated. She should say no, she knew that, but… “Come back in one piece, then you can visit me.”

That was the last time she ever saw The Winter Soldier.

...

Tag squad:

@thereisa8ella @geralt-of-baevia @the-soot-sprite @bitchyikes @captainsy-cookiemonster @satkisai

let me know if you want to be added or removed from my taglist

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #the winter soldier smut #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #steve rogers smut #hydra cap

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {15}***

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, LOTS OF WORDS, SMUUUUT, Angst

DO NOT READ AT WORK!!

Words: 6.8k

Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out.

Note: Recommended listening “Barefoot In The Park” By: James Blake feat. Rosalia. You’re welcome!

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | 

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Day 55-

Groaning, you rolled on the surface you were laying on until you were on your back. With eyes closed, you could see the blinding sunlight beaming on you. Peeping your eyes open just a smidge, you quickly regretted it. Instantly you rolled back onto your stomach and groaned in the pillow. Your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t the only thing of yours that was. For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed and just relished the feel of the soft covers and plush mattress underneath you. You couldn’t have moved if you hadn’t smelled coffee and food cooking. Your brain was confused; you shouldn’t have been able to smell food all the way in the guesthouse.

 You eased up onto your elbows with squinted eyes and took in the blurry bed you were laying on. It didn’t look like the one you’d been sleeping in for the last several weeks. Looking to the right then left, you saw an abundance of wood. This definitely wasn’t the guesthouse. You rolled over and let the full brutalness of the sun bathe you. As you shielded your eyes, they were able to focus and slowly take in your surroundings. Outside the window, you could see nothing but the greenery of treetops, and to the left was a desk. That was when you paused.

 “Oh god. Tell me you didn’t, tell me you did not.”

 You looked around some more until the mess of scattered clothes on the flood caught your eye. You began to panic just a little. When you saw four opened condom wrappers across the floor, that was when you panic set in. Dropping back to the bed, you slapped your hands to your face and groaned.

 “Holy shit, I did. Oh, fuck!”

 As you brought your legs up to your chest to hover in the air, you felt the stretch and dull ache in your nether regions. You gasped and dropped your limbs back to the bed.

 “Oh—my—god.” You laid there in shock for several moments. You’d never felt morning after ache before. The only other time you did was your first few times ever having sex. You were long past a virgin now.

 You focused and tired to think about what the hell happened last night. You’d drank a lot, but it wasn’t more than usual, it was actually less. The grogginess in your brain fought back. It was as if it didn’t want you to remember. You laid there for at least five minutes, wracking your brain, forcing it to relinquish the information you needed. No matter how much you tried to push through, you couldn’t remember. Rolling to your feet, you scurried to your clothes and hurriedly dressed doing your best to ignore the condom wrappers. Before you walked out, the room curiosity got the better of you, making you look at one of the wrappers. Your eyes widened, seeing golden foil and the “XL” printed across it. Chris Evans wore an extra-large condom. You definitely wanted a minute to take that in, but the smells wafting around you told you to make your getaway.

 As you slinked down the short hall, you peeped around the corner, but the kitchen area was empty. Thinking he may have just gone back to the house, you stepped out and walked to the door. At that moment, every memory from the night before decided to come back, making you run smack dab into the glass door to fall back onto your ass.

 “Fuck!”

 A scuffle of footsteps, but you were too wrapped up in the frenzy of memories that were racing through your mind that you didn’t register much else. You remembered the conversation, remembered his confession, remembered the hottest make-out session you’d ever had on the table. Then you remembered him carrying you like you weighed nothing and him teasing you mercilessly in the bed you’d just left. Once you thought about the bed, everything became a lot more sultry. You remembered his moans, god his moans were sexy, and the whimpers were even sexier. Your body felt like it also remembered just what he’d done to you, how he’d tasted you, bit you, controlled your body only to fuck you into unconsciousness. He’d actually fucked you to sleep.

 “Holy shit!” Your eyes flew open to see Chris above you peering down with worry etched on his face.

 “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your pride was definitely hurt. You’d just run into a fucking door. Groaning, you slowly sat up. Chris put his arm behind your back to brace you.

 “I’m fine.”

 “Did you just run into the door?”

 Snorting, your laughter echoed in the small space as you rubber your sore forehead. “I totally did.”

 “Yeah. Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to sneak out in your morning-after walk of shame,” Chris teased. Again, you snorted and laughed loudly.

 “Shut up! I am not doing any walk of shame.”

 “Oh, but you are sneaking out,” Chris accused.

 He’d caught you there. When you looked at him, he didn’t look angry. The problem was you couldn’t really read his expression. Sighing, you dropped your forehead to his bare shoulder.

 “I am sneaking out,” you admitted.

 “Yeah, the question is why?”

 “At first I couldn’t remember what the hell happened, and then I saw the condoms and knew something happened, and I just remembered. I freaked out.” You lifted your head and looked to him.

 “Why? Is this something you—no longer want?”

 “Things are always different in the morning. It was just—an adjustment. This was new.”

 Chris studied you for a few moments before he nodded and looked down. He looked as if he were thinking about what he should say. You could see the question on his face before his mouth opened.

 “Do you regret last night?”

 He didn’t look up to meet your eyes immediately; his head lingered downward like he didn’t want to look in your eyes for fear of what he might see. You took the time to think about his question. Did you regret last night? It was a good question. It was a question you would have thought about in the bed, but it hadn’t occurred to you to think about it. You felt your walls trying their best to come back up and quickly rebuild themselves. You could feel them closing in around your heart. They were rebuilding so quickly you knew it would be seconds before they were entirely up. If that happened, you knew you’d walk out of the door and back to the guesthouse to bury any memory of this slip-up. You would never think about this again, and you’d make every excuse to avoid him again.

 The things you felt last night scared the shit out of you. The things you saw in his eyes scared you. The way he touched you, commanded your body with ease, and held you all night shook you to your core and terrified you. Everything over the last few weeks contradicted and discredited everything you thought you knew as facts about him. He didn’t hate you; he liked you. He didn’t think you were annoying; he’d had a crush the entire time. He regretted his actions on the fourth of July. He’d wanted you this entire time.

 You must have remained quiet for too long because he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, and the softness of the blue in them had your belly flipping. These reactions to him were new, and you hadn’t had enough time to wrap your head around them. Your lips felt like moving to speak words you couldn’t possibly mean, so you pressed them shut. You rose onto your knees and slid closer to him before you threw your leg over his and sat on his lap.

 “Does this feel like I regret anything?” You pressed your lips to his and kissed him.

 Chris didn’t move. He stayed there, letting you move your lips across his. The kiss started slow but quickly picked up speed. As you teased and sucked his lips, Chris still didn’t move. Only when your tongue delved into his mouth to wrap around his tongue did he kiss you back. Chris moaned on your mouth as he took control of the kiss and wrapped his arms around your back.

 The two of you sat there on the floor making out, and every second that passed only made both of you more desperate for the other. You teased the skin of his back with your nails gently raking them up and down his skin. Chris pulled you closer so you sat atop his already hardened length. You groaned on him and sank your fingers in his hair holding his head in the process. Instead of risking more conversation, you reached for the hook of your top and undid it before you pulled it off, so your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt his deep guttural moan reverberate against you.

 Chris slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps. You weren’t sure where he was going until you felt the kitchen counter underneath you. With the way he was pressed against your core, you could tell just how badly he wanted you.

 “Aren’t you hungry?”

 “Starving,” you muttered before you crashed your lips back to his.

 “Then let me feed you,” Chris groaned out as he pressed his length into you even more. You bit his bottom lip and pulled away before you pushed him back just enough for you to slide down to the floor before him. Once on your knees, you pulled his sweats that were carelessly balancing at his hips down to reveal just the meal you intended on.

 Wasting not one second, you sank your mouth onto his length and decided to take what you wanted. You didn’t bother going slow; there was no need. As you bobbed your head up and down his cock Chris didn’t stay quiet. He moaned and groaned all the while trying to keep himself in check. When you felt him sink his hands into your hair, you knew he wanted more control than you were allowing him. Chris held your head and began pumping your mouth. Every connection the tip of his cock nudged your tonsil, threatening your gag, but when he retreated, you were able to suppress it. When he sank his full length into your mouth, you decided not to back down and instead clamped around him and shook your head, giving him the full feel of you.

 “Fuck! You look so fucking gorgeous with my dick in your mouth, Y/N.”

 Some girls wanted chocolates. Some wanted flowers. Some wanted to be bought diamonds and rubies or even told they’re beautiful twenty times a day. You were plenty happy to hear those words from him.

You were that turned on. Moaning, you opened your throat, but Chris must have sensed what you intended to do because he pulled your head back with a loud groan and brought you to his face before he crashed his lips to yours and stuck his tongue down your throat.

 The next thing you knew, he’d walked away from you and gone back to the stove. You stood there, stunned and confused.

 “What’re you doing?”

 He had his sweats pulled back into place and looked innocent, the only dead giveaway was the obvious erection that was sticking right out straining against his sweatpants.

 “You said you were starving. Breakfast,” Chris responded, opening the oven and bending inside to retrieve a baking tray.

 “Uh—I had my breakfast in front of me,” you announced. Chris tried to hide his smirk, but you caught it.

 “I snuck into the house and was able to get some cinnamon buns and some fruit,” Chris explained as he rifled through the fridge to come out with a fruit salad bowl. He then began placing the buns onto a dish as you stood there still floored.

 Once he’d finished, he walked past you toward the table on the back deck.

 “Come on, let’s eat.”

 “Eat what exactly?”

 “Let’s start with cinnamon buns and fruit and see where we end up,” Chris teased.

 The man wanted to tease and torture you; you thought as you walked to the back bare chest and all. When you said down, you noticed him staring at your breasts so you poked them out even more.

 “Something wrong with me being shirtless?”

 Chris smiled, licked his lips, and shook his head. “By all means. With breasts like those you should be shirtless twenty-four-seven,” he said before he bit into one of the cinnamon buns. The icing residue latched onto his mustache and beard and corner of his mouth. You’d never wanted to lick someone more.

 You cupped your breasts and smiled when you saw his slip. “Thanks, I’ve always thought so too.” You slowly rolled your nipples between your fingers while staring into his eyes. When you dropped your hands, you took a bun for yourself and moaned while obnoxiously rolling your eyes into the back of your head upon first bite.

 “You did that for me first,” Chris said. You scoffed and finished chewing.

 “Are you sure you were first?”

 It was a low blow, but you didn’t care. All’s fair in torture and teasing. Right? Chris looked slightly annoyed, and that annoyance brought you immeasurable joy. The two of you ate the food, all the while staring at each other, just giving each other sensual looks that spoke volumes. Every now and then, you purposely let droplets of fruit juice fall on your breasts. Each time you did, Chris fell for it and gawked at them with a palpable hunger in his eyes. You wondered how long he could last. You knew you were the worst person to go up against. You knew the power of a woman over a man. You knew your power over this man.

 By the time the last bun was finished and the fruits all but gone you sat there licking and sucking your fingers clean from the icing with Chris as your audience. Once they were clean, you stood with the faux intention of bringing the dishes to the sink. Before you even made it to grab a dish, Chris had his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to his body. His erection pressed urgently into you. You doubted it had gone down this entire time. You couldn’t help but smile, but you shouldn’t have. Chris spun you around and pushed you forward so you were bending across the table. He then yanked your skirt down, revealing your bare ass to him. You felt his teeth sink into the flesh of your backside, making you groan and throw your head back.

 Chris pushed your chest down onto the table before you felt his face bury between your folds.

 “Fuck!” It was an unexpected feeling, one that was coarse thanks to his beard but so damn soft because of his mouth.

 “Mmmm, you taste like mine!”

 You weren’t into the whole being possessed thing; it always made you feel like property and confined. You preferred to be the one possessing. This, though, felt different, but only a little. You felt Chris's hands grip your ass before he squeezed and slurped your sex. It felt so good that your knees buckled. Before you could relax into the pleasure, Chris stood again and walked away. After a few seconds of nothing but breeze, you looked back, but he wasn’t there.

 “Chris?

 No answer.

 “Chris!”

 Still no answer. You pressed your forehead to the table and groaned loudly. Who knew the man was this much of a tease. Standing on semi shaky legs, you walked inside, but again there was no Chris. Suppressing your frustration, you walked down the short hall and passed the little nook that he had set up as a library area, but still, he wasn’t there. When you went up the steps to his bedroom, it was empty. Knowing that there were only so many places he could be, you backtracked and saw the door to the bathroom open.

 As you approached, you heard the rush of running water, and when you got to the door, you saw Chris filling the tub. As you leaned on the door, you just marveled at how gorgeous he was and how in the hell he expected two people to fit in that tub. When he looked at you, his smile was coy.

“Found me.”

 “Because there were so many places to look,” you joked.

 You watched him move around the small space adding different things to the water as the tub filled. With everything, he poured the scent in the room changed. First, you smelled sandalwood, then cedarwood. After a few moments, you began to smell other things like eucalyptus, mint, and a faint vanilla and musk aroma. It all was so very masculine, but it also gave an air of feminine undertones. Chris looked at you, beginning from your toes along your naked body until he got to your face.

 “Enjoying the view?”

 “How the hell could I not? You’re gorgeous, Y/N. You know that,” Chris said, still staying on his side of the room.

 “I would love to say the same, but it seems as if I’m the only one naked.”

 Chris snorted and nodded.

 “That’s fair. Do you want to do the honors?”

 Biting your bottom lip, you looked him over and slowly shook your head. “Nope, I think you got it.”

 Chris smiled then slowly pulled the waist of his sweatpants down. He did it in a way to tease you even more, first only revealing the bundle of neatly trimmed hair. You watched his sweats get nudged on his erection, making you suck your bottom lip in your mouth. Chris looked to you with just his eyes, and it like a ton of bricks the effect it had on you. He must have known it too because the smirk that spread across his face said it.

 Finally, he was bare before you, and the only thought you had was how had you not tried to imagine this before. How had you not recognized these feelings you were having right now before? Chris turned off the water and held out his hand for you. Slowly you approached him and placed your hand in his.

 “How exactly are two of us supposed to fit in there? I have serious doubts you could fit.” Chris smiled and kissed your cheek then trailed kisses to your ear. Once he got to your ear, he nibbled your lobe for a few moments before he pulled back.

 “Let me lead by example,” Chris said before he climbed into the tub and sank into it, demonstrating that he, in fact, fit in the tub. You were shocked.

 “Tada.”

 With a smile, you took Chris’s outstretched hand and climbed into the tub and sat across from him. Chris’s feet were on either side of you while yours were in the middle of the tub. Moaning, you relished the feeling of the hot water on your skin and the blending aromas swirling in the air. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt natural, which surprised you given the limited amount of time you’d spent around him.

 With your eyes closed, you leaned back and rested your head on the cushion that was there. When you felt his hand wrap around your foot, you opened your eyes and watched as he held it and massaged it. In no time at all, your relaxation increased. His hands were so large that they engulfed your foot and expertly moved along it. His hands felt incredible. You had no idea how he’d learned this, but you had suspicions.

 “What’re you thinking?”                                

 You took a deep breath and sank even lower in the water.

 “You don’t want to know.”

 “On the contrary, I want to know everything you think,” Chris corrected.

 “I was wondering how you got so good at this.”

 Chris snorted before he dropped a kiss to your foot.

 “Do you really want to know?”

 “If the words out your mouth are you practiced on Emily, Jessica, Jenny, Anna, Cynthia, and countless others, I'm going to kick you in that beautiful face of yours.”

 Chris laughed loudly as he leaned back to slap his hand across his chest. Some things never change, you thought.

 “In that case, I’ll just shut up,” Chris teased.

 Using your other foot still in the water, you shoved it out, making gentle connection with his dick in the water.

 “Hey, hey, hey, watch the merchandise. Just remember you’re the one who gets pleasure from it,” Chris cautioned.

 “Ha, but it hasn’t been just me has it?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you pursed your lips. You were never a jealous person, but right now, you felt hella jealous.

 “What I was going to say was I’m making it up as I go. I’m just good with my hands.” Chris’s hands moved up your leg to your calves. Once they got to your knees, Chris slinked over to you and hovered over you. “Let’s get one thing clear right now, sweetheart,” he began before he kissed your lips and sucking your bottom lip. “No one matters before you. You’re all I see, all I’ve ever seen.” He kissed you again and pulled you to him as he slid back to his side. You were now nestled between his legs pressed against his body. The kiss intensified while Chris’s hand trailed down your back to your ass. The way he gripped it had you wanting even more than you had outside at the table.

 “You’re all I want to see, Y/N,” Chris finished while nuzzling his nose against yours.

 You quickly adjusted your body so you straddled him with his member pressed against your ass. As you reached for one of the sponges behind Chris, your breast nudged his face. Taking full advantage of it, Chris wrapped his lips around your nipple and proceeded to please you. Focusing on the task, you took up the shower gel that laid on the side of the tub and lathered the sponge. The feel of his mouth on you was a continuous temptation to just rush full force toward your own pleasure, but you took your time.

 When you pulled back your breast came free with a loud “pop”.

 “How do you always smell like coconuts? It drives me fucking crazy.”

 He was asking your black woman secrets, and you didn’t want to give him any hints. Instead, you rubbed the sponge across his shoulder and down his chest.

 “Not gonna tell me?” Chris kissed your neck and made a path to your shoulder as his hands gripped your hips.

 “No need.”

 Chris grabbed the sponge and began wiping across your body. His eyes moved along with the sponge, and with every stroke, he looked even more and more mesmerized. When he swirled the sponge around your breasts while cupping them, you almost leaped out your skin. Chris swiped his thumbs across your nipples before he pinched them, which sent your hips bucking against him.

 Chris groaned and bit his bottom lip. The sight only turned you on more. For the next several minutes, the two of you bathed each other taking your time with moving the sponge along your bodies. You paid attention to every sharp intake of breath or heavy sigh as you moved along him and noted what worked in tempting him further. As you did this, Chris did the same, but when he realized that your reactions were more facial then verbal, you found him watching your face more times than not.

 After what felt like an eternity, Chris held you tightly as he rose onto his knees. That was when he kissed you. It was a slow kiss, a deliberately slow one meant only to tease you. The water from above shocked you making you flinch.

“Oh my god, Chris, my hair!” Your shriek was loud, and your glare penetrative as you tried to slink away from the falling water.

 “It’s just water,” Chris declared. To you, it was like a capital offense.

 “On my hair. Do you know how much goes into getting my hair like this?”

 He kissed your collar, gently nipping your skin between his teeth.

 “I’ll help you, I promise.”

 “Help me? Have you ever done a woman’s hair before, let alone a black woman’s?”

 “No, but I’m willing to learn.”

 Those words, for some reason, meant everything in this moment. It was sweet. You bit your bottom lip and went back to your natural position and allowed the water from the rainfall showerhead to pour down onto you. As it did, the soap on both your bodies washed away. Chris crashed his lips to yours and took control. You got lost in the kiss and the way his hard, wet body felt pressed against yours until the kiss got even more desperate.

 Chris stood and stepped out of the tub then walked out of the bathroom. The coolness in the air nipped at your skin, but the heat from his body worked to take it away. When he softly placed you on the bed, you moaned and rolled onto him to once again straddle him. Chris’s hands went everywhere. They caressed your back, palmed your ass, squeezed your hips, then came around to cup your breasts, but no matter where they went, they never stayed too long. It was as if he wanted everything all at once.

 When he pulled away from your lips, you stared at him, reading the hidden desires in them. You didn’t know how you could read him so easily now when not even seventy two hours ago, he perplexed you beyond comprehension. You bit his bottom lip and pulled back, teasing it before you licked his top one only to lick from his chin up across both lips. Chris groaned, and the pulsating between your bodies increased.

 That was when you slipped from his lap and stood before him in front of the panoramic window in the room. The sunlight shone through, and your body created a shadow. Chris slowly licked his lips as he raked his eyes over every inch of your body. The attention he gave you made you feel like a precious rare jewel, and you were quickly becoming addicted to the feeling. Slowly you twirled around, giving him a good view of the ass he loved to grip. His deep impassioned groan was the only sound you needed to hear to know he liked what he saw. The beads of water that dripped from your hair onto your skin slowly slid along your body, and when you turned to him, you could have sworn he was watching each of them.

 Your eyes dropped to his swollen need and licked your lips. When you did Chris’s hand wrapped around it and stroked three times before he gripped it. If that wasn’t an invitation, you didn’t know what was, you thought. Like a lioness on the prowl, you sauntered to him rolling your hips with each step until you got close enough, then you dropped to your knees and fully emulated that lioness stalking her prey. Chris sucked in a breath as he watched you crawled to him.

 Once you were between his legs, you rubbed your lips and nose along his length, then your cheek, all the while never taking your eyes off of his. Chris’s jaw was dropped as if he couldn’t believe you were before him doing the things you were. With your hands behind your back, you dropped your mouth down his length until you felt his head nudge your throat. Your moan vibrated on his cock, making him growl out from deep within his chest. Fuck, it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard, next to his moans.

 While you loved to tease him, you also loved to please him. Ending your torture, you showed him without hesitation just how skilled your mouth was. It didn’t take long for Chris’s hands to bury themselves in your hair until he was holding it back and watching you in awe as every curse word in the book tumbled from his lips in between moans, groans, and whimpers. When he pulled your head back by your hair, he pulled you to him and kissed you with a heat and passion you hadn’t expected but savored.

 Chris pulled you onto his lap and nestled his cock between your sopping folds. Unable to help yourself, you swiped your sex across his soaking him in the process. Every buck of your hips had Chris leaning back even more. You saw him reaching back but didn’t know what he was reaching for. Then it dawned on you he was probably trying to get to the bedside table.

 “I’ll get it,” you offered before you crawled up his body to reach inside the table. The movement unwittingly placed his head between your thighs. Chris took full advantage by gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his open mouth just as you’d reached the gold packet.

 Your shriek was loud, and from the beginning, it was clear his intention was not to tease. He lapped at you as if he’d been starving all the days of his life, and you were the only sustenance left in the world. After a few seconds, your body began to shake. That was when Chris sucked your clit into his mouth to slurp at you. The sensation was so intense you gripped the sheets and let your body convulse as your orgasm charged through you, bringing with it the goosebumps across your skin.

 “Oh fuck Chris, yes, yes, yes!”

 With every “yes,” his slurps got louder and louder. With the end of one orgasm, another quickly took over. When you felt Chris dip his tongue into your channel, your body moved on its own and rode his face. Chris’s moans picked up, and soon you were racing for your finish line. Chris’s moans got loud, and when you looked down and made eye contact, your release came. The feeling was intense, and you wanted more, but you also wanted to feel him.

 In a rush, you pulled from him and moved down his body to quickly rip open the condom and roll it onto his pulsating cock. In less than a minute, you were on your knees again, straddling him. Chris sat up and kissed you. Using your tongue, you licked across his lips, tasting yourself and moaning as you did.

 “I never took you for a squirter,” Chris whispered against your lips. You smiled as you slid onto him, taking every single inch slowly, so he felt every sensation individually. The look on his face said he was close and barely hanging on. It was what you liked.

 Wasting no time, you rocked against him and rolled your body as you held onto him. The water that dripped onto your skin was gone now as the combined heat from your bodies took all of it but replaced it with the slickness of your sweat. Your bodies rubbed together, causing such a delicious friction, a friction that only inched you closer and closer to the edge.

 Chris bit your neck before he dropped back onto the bed to watch you move against him. Raising onto your knees, you bounced on him, losing yourself in the pleasure and not caring how your body jiggled. All that mattered right now was your combined release.

 “Jesus, Y/N.” Chris balled the sheets into his outstretched hands and watched you with his mouth open. He looked at you as if you were a sorceress who somehow had claimed control of him against his will. The look made you feel powerful, and that was when you decided to show out and raise onto your toes to bounce on him more forcefully.

 “Aaah,” Chris shouted. He only allowed you four dips before he was sitting up and standing with you in his arms.

 His lips claimed yours, and the two of you fought in a battle of the tongues. Chris was the one to break the kiss before he tossed you onto the bed. You were only without him for seconds before he was kneeling onto the bed and forcefully flipping you over onto your stomach. When he dropped a heavy-handed slap to your ass, you moaned and instantly poked it out. You felt him swipe his length along your slit once before he was slamming into you, connecting you in one rough thrust.

 “Aaaah!”

 Chris groaned deeply and grabbed your hands to hold them behind your back. As he did this, he rotated his hips, caressing every wall with his need. He was impossibly deep and though your body wanted more your survival instincts had you trying to pull away.

 “Mm-nmh. Don’t run from this dick, Y/N. Take it,” Chris tantalizingly ordered before he pulled out only to slam back into you.

 “Fuuuuck!” His grip on your wrists only tightened, keeping you right where you were so you had no choice but to take it.

 Chris’s strokes from the beginning were deliberate, and with every passing second, they sped. In no time at all, you were whimpering, and shrieking out, not caring who heard. Chris’s moans were like music to your ears and only made you wetter and wetter. You knew there was no way you could take much more of this. You could already feel your skin tingling and your sex quivering around him. Chris’s strokes got sloppier and sloppier, and that was when he let your wrists go. You plopped onto the bed only to have him push one of your legs to the side before he was sinking back inside your greedy sex.

 Chris hovered over you and gave you slow deep strokes that had you shouting his name back to back.

 “Yes. Y/N. God, I love how you feel around me. You feel so fucking good,” he groaned against your ear before he pressed down onto you and jackhammered into you, dragging your orgasm from you. As you clenched around him, Chris shouted out and came right along with you.

 After almost two minutes, Chris was still spasming inside of you, and you were still milking him for every drop.

 “Fuuuuck! I’m still coming,” Chris grunted out, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. Chris bit your skin and groaned. When rolled off of you onto his back, he groaned again.

 You rested onto your elbows and watched him fascinated. With his face scrunched, he looked as if he were in such a complex merge of pleasure and pain. You dropped a kiss to his chest and trailed it to his nipple then nibbled it. He sucked in a breath and groaned again. You looked to his member and marveled, seeing it twitch and bob in the air. After a few moments, his breathing evened out, and he turned to you with such vulnerability in his eyes you couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him.

 Chris wrapped an arm around you, allowing you to settle comfortably atop his chest. The silence filled the room with the two of you enjoying it, and the afterglow of your coupling. After almost five minutes of silence and you tracing patters across his chest and abs, you spoke first.

 “When you imagined this—did you imagine it being like this?”

 Chris didn’t speak right away. He stayed quiet so long you didn’t think he would answer. You didn’t dare look at him. You didn’t want to meet his eyes, unsure what you’d find there and just what it would do to you. You heard your ring tone, it sounded far away, but you knew it was yours. After the beginning chime, what you heard next quickly broke the mood.

 “Call from Sexy as fuck dig dick Charles.”

 Chris audibly growled before groaning and rolling away from you, leaving you a little surprised. The personalized ringtone kept repeating, and the more it did, you could feel the chill that filled the room. Chris sat up at the edge of the bed with his back hunched and turned to you. Finally, the silence returned, but he didn’t speak. You slid closer to him and touched his back. He flinched and slightly arched his back away. Thinking it was just a shock reflex, you pressed your lips to his back. That was when he moved completely and stood.

 “You should get back before Scott realizes you’re not in the guesthouse,” Chris spoke, looking everywhere but at you. He made a move to roll the condom off, then tied it and dropped it into the garbage beside the bedside table. He was still hard.

 “You want me to leave?”

 Chris sighed out and planted his hands on his waist before dropping his head back.

 “It’s the best move,” he quietly answered.

 You wondered if this was about the call. Once it rang out, you felt the shift in the atmosphere.

 “Chris, is this about the call?”

 His sigh was heavier, more forceful. He moved to one of the doors in the room and came out of it with another pair of sweats, then he pushed his legs through them.

 “It’s just best for you to go, Y/N. You probably shouldn’t even be here.” He sounded defeated.

 You tried hard not to allow the feeling of rejection take over, but the longer he stayed over there not looking at you with clenched jaws, the more impossible it was.

 “Chris ignore the call,” you began.

 “Ignore the fact that mere weeks ago, you were fucking someone else and probably doing every single fucking thing to him that you were just doing to me? Saying the same shit—uuugg!” Chris turned his back to you as he rubbed his forehead.

 This was insane, you thought.

 “Are you jealous?”

 Silence.

 “Chris--,” you began before he cut you off.

 “—Just go, Y/N.”

 Anger fired up within you, and you bolted from the bed naked and all. “Am I making a big deal about you definitely having fucked someone else weeks ago? Chris, you’ve been fucking everyone else but me for years!” with your rising temper, your voice rose as well.

 “Great here we go again. You want to throw every woman I’ve had sex with in my face. Fine! Yes, I fucked a lot of women. You’ve fucked a lot of guys!”

 Those words were like a slap across the face. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that to you. You felt the tears before they welled your eyes, and you refused to stay there and shed them. Nodding, you walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom to grab your skirt before you angrily pulled it on. As you did, you felt the first droplets of tears. You could have punched a hole in the door. You hated crying, and you hadn’t let any man make you cry in years.

 As you walked out to the door, you grabbed your top and pulled that on as well. In seconds you found your clutch and walked through the door.

 “Y/N,” Chris began with a hand on your wrist.

 Yanking away from him, you kept your face forward. “Fuck you, Chris!”

 With that, you stormed across the yard and to where the bike was leaned and rode away. Your tears made it difficult to see where you were going, but you refused to stop. Instead, you peddled harder and gripped the handlebar with the strength and fire of hell itself.

When you got back to the house, you were thankful the pool area was empty. You shoved the bike onto the ground and stormed to the guesthouse door then slammed it behind you. Quickly you stripped your clothes off and rushed into the shower. The only thing you wanted to do was wash him off of you.

 How dare he you thought as you roughly scrubbed your skin trying to rub off every kiss, every lick every touch, and when you realized you couldn’t, no matter how hard you scrubbed, you stood still and shook with the force of your anger. Your anger was your weakness. You went from zero to one hundred in seconds, and once there, that blazing inferno was worst than an F6 on the tornado scale. Everyone knew when you were seething; it was best to leave you be.

 After a few minutes, you still weren’t able to get control of your anger, and that was when the tears streamed. They were a mixture of angry tears and hurt ones. You couldn’t believe it. You’d lowered your guard. You hadn’t even realized you did. You lowered it and allowed someone to hurt you. He’d been able to hurt you. That was what terrified you.

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

Lee’s Note:  😬

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***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! 

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Tag List:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#quarantine: a love story fic #q15 #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #chris evans smut #chris evans x ofc

[defractum]

Ah, au 5 prompts thing: what if during the burial mounds seige the wens convince wwx to take a-yuan and go save himself?

So after the Wen surrender themselves from Burial Mounds, WWX has no one left to turn to. He'd renounced Jiang Cheng, he's pissed off the rest of the cultivation world, and he doesn't even have a golden core anymore. He destroys the stygian amulet, he turns, and he leaves that world behind.

He and A-Yuan travel around, mostly going to places where the big sects won't bother. He becomes a rogue cultivator, but in secret – he'll take on jobs that pay and if he takes out his flute once they've left and sorts it out with a bit of demonic cultivation, well, most ordinary people don't know.

He carries his sword in a covered hilt; he can barely draw it these days anyway

They spend years as travelling cultivators – A-Yuan turns fourteen knowing that he is a Wen, and that his Xian-ge is the infamous Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, and that he is loved. 

WWX has offered to drop him off at the doors of another sect so that he can get a more comprehensive education, but A-Yuan stays. (He hasn't met a lot of other cultivators his own age, so he doesn't realise for a while that his practical knowledge outstrips his peers by miles.)

WWX teaches A-Yuan cultivation, traditional cultivation. He can teach the theory and the meditation and sword forms even if he doesn’t do them himself anymore. A-Yuan gets very good at talismans and spells and improvising, and there's a tiny bit of demonic cultivation in there too – for emergencies. A-Yuan will be able to defend himself even when he doesn't have a sword.

He gifts A-Yuan Suibian, and his pride outshines his lingering regret.

It's not until they're cleaning out a nest of possessed sea snakes, WWX staying back and using talismans, A-Yuan methodically cutting their heads off, when he hears a familiar strumming from a guqin, dispatching the last of the snakes

WWX is thinking about running but A-Yuan has already turned to start thanking whoever it is – and it's Lan Wangji, of course. Older, and as regal as ever.

LWJ asks sharply where A-Yuan got his sword – and WWX's not about to abandon him, so he jumps down from the rooftop he was perched on and pushes A-Yuan behind him. "It was a gift. I wasn't using it anyway."

LWJ does the thing ("Wei Ying," he breathes, hand reaching out to snap around his wrist, grasping so tightly that it hurts, as if he's afraid if he can't feel him he might not be real.)

WWX asks why he's here ("This isn't anywhere near Gusu.")

LWJ spends much of his time travelling to places that don't have cultivational sects and cultivators readily available these days, after an intense few years helping to rebuild Cloud Recesses after the Wen attack – the sect politics matter little to him, and his brother has a handle on leading the sect by now

(A-Yuan stands like right there, eyes flicking back and forth between them. He's heard a lot about Lan Wangji from Wei Wuxian and this is the most fascinating thing that's ever happened to him – and that's saying something considering last week, they fought a shapeshifter that kept turning itself into WWX.)

WWX offers to split the reward for the possessed snakes between them, but Lan Wangji declines, and asks where they're going next instead; WWX says south, where it's warmer. LWJ tells him that's coincidentally where he was going to go too. (LWJ is a lying liar.) He tags along. And then he just keeps… tagging along.

Sometimes LWJ does need to go back to Gusu, but he always comes back. Once WWX realises that he has no intention of letting anyone know that he's found the Yiling Patriarch, they let him know where to find them next.

He never complains about the rundown inns that WWX picks, or how they walk or ride everywhere (A-Yuan can carry WWX on Suibian, but only for short periods of time and not very high up), or how they take the long way around every big city. Instead, he silently pays the innkeeper in the morning before WWX gets up, and picks up extra provisions for the nights spent camping.

They fall into disgusting domesticity remarkably quickly. LWJ starts teaching A-Yuan cultivation. WWX buys him a dizi of his own. LWJ gets him a guqin. They silently bicker over it until A-Yuan suggests that he could always play the suona – they both flatly stare at him and veto it. (He learns to play both the dizi and the guqin.)

Basically, they travel the countryside and cultivate together and A-Yuan spends far, far too much time and energy playing matchmaker and politely looking off into the middle-distance as they stare longingly at each other before they finally confess their feelings and get together.

Two years later, when a white Gusu distress signal comes from Mo Village, and they are the nearest cultivators around, Lan Wangji looks torn between responding and staying and WWX makes the decision for them – he grabs their things and says without hesitation, "I'll go with you."

See the other filled prompts

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql #wangxian #lan sizhui #my fic #kind of not really #sizhui is the best boy #the most long-suffering boy #also i'm completely incapable of doing a short headcanons post huh #Anonymous #asks

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || ari punishes you for being a brat during your date out at the summer carnival

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth, smut with some fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || modern AU agent!ari levinson × [black//woc]!reader + crossover!ransom drysdale

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 4K ⟶ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw daddy!kink, age gape: reader is twenty one and ari is thirty five (don’t like, don’t read), heavy language, dirty talk, punishment: overstimulation, eating out, blowjob + spanking mention, movie crossover! + you might get a cavity just from reading this

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || melting by kali uchis ♡ angel by kali uchis ♡ honey baby (SPOILED!) by kali uchis

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || this was initially for @jtargaryen18’s writing challenge #30DaysofChris but i took a long break in the middle of writing it, sorry for the long wait lovely! ♡ this took less time to edit and write than i thought and believed but i hope you guys enjoy it just as much! ♡ reminder : italic means flashback, bold italics means thoughts/exaggerated dialogue, and non-italic/bold means present!

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

my storybook ღ join my taglist

BABY THIS IS A WONDERLAND

when your tongue licks the bittersweet honey glaze of my pussy lips, where my sinfully divine bubblegum dreams collapse with your good boy deeds but you just keep licking my core desperate. ‘cause baby the milk that leaks from the honey hive in between my thighs is like a strawberry cone to you- and your going to lick me up before I melt under your hot gaze.

"Ari," your meek whimper spills but he keeps licking.

as if he's trying to break the dam that'll give him the strawberry milk that will quench his undying thirst. you’re stuck in this pleasurable killing punishment, if only you knew to stop when you were told to. listen to the voice in your head to stop acting like rotten spoiled brat and you’d have the pleasure to grind your honey slicked cunt against his bearded face.

if only you listened...

"behave," Ari growled into your ear.

the single command is enough for you to roll your eyes and stick your tongue out up at him and so you do. of course Ari is used to seeing this brat but he was sure that with a glare or two you’d clean your act up but you’re still continuing your rotten attitude.

no, you don't want to fucking behave.

subtly walking away from him to the cotton candy vendor, the sound of the man pouring the sugar into the spiraling machine is music to your ears. a glare marks your sharp roseate lined eyes and a pout pulls at your glossed lips, all focused away from Ari but he still sees your rage.

it really wasn’t fair how he expected himself to go on this carnival date with you but not do the one thing that made you want to go. all that adding on that he expects you to behave and not be upset, it wasn’t for and you weren’t planning on calming down.

not even a little tiny bit, cause you want to go into the tunnel of love with him. all the small promises and little compromises made throughout the day as you and him walked and played the colorful tent games did he promise you that you and him would ride.

Ari knew how much this meant to you, you always wanted a special someone to sit besides the romantic boat ride with ever since you were a small girl.

it was his fault that he fell in love with a hopeless romantic, someone yearning to allow themselves be enveloped within the arms of their lover. feel their warmth as the red violet lights start to dim, kiss your lovers lips when you two meet the darkness. giggle when he confesses his sweet darling thoughts of you, you were a romantic for gods sake.

you wanted it so bad, yet every time you seem to mention it Ari deflects the topic with something else. another question or comment or confront your claim in the most abrupt yet sweet way possible.

“not now sweetheart, later maybe-”

“babydoll, do we really have to go in there?”

“it’s to much of a risk for daddy, honey bear!”

he would sweeten those claims up with kisses that would butter your mouth like the popcorn he hand fed you. it was tiring Ari out with your demands to ride The Tunnel of Love but now as he stand there witnessing his precious apple dumpling turn into a rather rotten and bratty apple he may fully turn down the conversation.

on top of that your pink and white gingham sundress displays a bit too much cleavage and leg for Ari’s liking. well he doesn’t like the dress, he loves it but he wouldn’t want you going out displaying it for everyone to see besides him. the nymphet styled cloth you walk so confidently may or may not have half the boys and men eyeing you everywhere you go.

this scene, the boys and grown men undressing you with their list filled hues and eye fucking you with every step your platforms take does make Ari want to snap at them. wonder if their mothers taught them better than to gawk, glare at the silly pubescent boys until they run away shitless. maybe intervene with the lustful stares of the men with a double fist threat.

it doesn’t ease the fire behind his eyes and the clenched fist he has when he’s noticing your smirk- the pounce in your stride that you seem to enjoy the attention.

the very way you bend down near the mirrors of a souvenir cart to re-apply the amber peach lipgloss to your lips is almost intentionally teasing for both Ari and anyone else watching. the way you glance at him through it, lashes batting and your glimmer hint hues screaming fuck me

he now knows this is all part of your game of acting up, you think you can get what you want from disrespecting his order and authority. it was so cute to him how you thought you could get away with your spoiled behavior.

sooner then later Ari is going to bend you over and teach you a lesson on teasing him in public.

the taste of strawberry cotton candy and buttery popcorn is still fresh and lingering in your mouth but you want to taste your juices on his candy red tongue.

"Ari," you carp, his tongue just keeps lapping up at your labia. unbothered and unfazed as hair spills over his forehead, he doesn’t care for he smiles when your plush thighs cage his face.

the continuous strokes of his talented tongue make your pussy flutter and spine shiver. wishing he’d push a fingers or two, god those thick fingers could undo any orgasm from you in matter of seconds. the thought makes a little drool seep from the corners to your mouth and you hug the large blue raspberry bunny Ari won for you closer to your chest. smelling the fruity scent as you whimpered when he bit at your cunt and kissed it better.

you’ve kept the fluffy berry scented stuffie close when Ari striked your ass cheeks earlier wit the same hands that keep your thighs gaped now. allowed you to have that dear comfort as he took on punishing you with his rough spanks.

the burning hand prints are probably visible now just as the wet tears around your eyes. the same streams that stained your peachy cheeks have dried but it wasn’t just your teasing that brought you up in your well deserved punishment.

no, you were in much deeper trouble than for that…

after your little tease show Ari figured to let you have your way, for now. it was always best for him to let you have your way since you were generally upset about not riding on the Tunnel of Love.

now, the golden rays of the sun setting radiated your glowing figure, hand with Ari’s the other holds your frosty pink cotton candy as you take the last bites of it. glancing up at Ari, you see the almost finished chocolate sprinkle swirled ice cream cone in his hand being treated with long slow licks.

attention going from the melting cone to his tongue you can’t help but want it.

want his hot tongue on you, in you.

you want it so so bad that you’re caught off guard when he smirks, not looking at you at all but feeling your stare. he feels your needy wants, knows the devious perverted thoughts going on in your pretty head and its all a dead giveaway when you hold his hand tighter before turning your head away from him.

your sudden shyness makes him let out a laugh. finishing the small cone within a few licks and bites. damn you are a contradiction of innocence and dirtiness that only helps his blood pound in devotion and cock harden in desire.

“what did we say about manners princess? it’s rude to stare at people while they’re eating,” Ari’s deep hushed words rattle your thoughts.

“I know daddy, I-” your words almost stumble when you feel the cool chocolate breaths wave upon your ear and his muscled arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“is my princess getting needy? politely tell daddy what you want and maybe he’ll give it to you,” Ari whispers with a soft yet quick peck behind your ear, it’s almost enough for you to whine for more.

Ari knows you just can’t have that, it doesn’t even fill in a teaspoon of the battered lust that needs to be soothed. you really weren’t good at telling him what you wanted, sure physical and replaceable things weren’t an issue, clothes, purses, shoes, books. lets make it clear, if you see it, like it and want it- Ari bought it without hesitation.

however in situations like these, it wasn’t as if it was easy or hard to tell him what you want or what you want him to do to you. you just want him to just touch you, to feel his delicious large and warm hands- his gifted mouth on you already without being asked so many teasing questions.

“I want your tongue, daddy,” your words almost stumble out.

eyes to his now, they flutter innocently at him, biting your bottom lip you look down to notice the small tent at his pants and you smirk. given that rather rude action Ari’s hand that’s on your side goes down to grope the curve of your ass, giving it an equally gentle yet painful squeeze.

“you want daddy’s tongue princess? first tell daddy where you want it-” his sentence was interrupted by the loud vibration of his phone.

buzzing in his pocket you scoff at him when he takes it out to look at the pixel name displayed on the small screen. rolling your eyes when he doesn’t put it away you cross your arms, and let out a huff glaring up at him.

"daddy! mhmm!- daddy no more!" his eyes snap to yours, the sight of you makes him lick his lips.

shiny hair sprawled in all directions, face clouded with lust, the neckline to your pretty dress folded down to reveal your plump tits covered in his love bites. he’s trying his hardest not to give in to the throbbing temptation and smash his mouth against yours, take handfuls of your tits and fuck you till you can only say his name.

but he has much more control than that, he isn’t a needy baby like you. drooling at a few licks to your messy cunt and tits, god Ari knew he was lucky to have landed such a woman like you and you were his to bring as many orgasms as possible.

even if you didn’t want them, you were his little baby and his baby had rules to follow. breaking those rules resulted in punishments and as much as it hurt him to see you cry and whimper it was getting his cock hard to.

“now princess you wanted daddy’s tongue, and now you have it. that’s what you wanted so that’s what you’re going to get.” he muses as you licks your sensitive over-stimulated folds.

“but daddy you gave me four cummies already!-” you fumble into somewhat of a sob but the cry stops once Ari pinches the meat of your inner thighs making you whine at the sudden pain. “ouchy!” you snap, hating these painful thigh pinches but adoring the slow pussy licks.

“i’m teaching you a lesson princess, you’ve been such a fucking brat today so i’m going to treat you like a fucking brat.”

“but daddy!-”

“but what, princess? Daddy told you to stop but you never listen, you’re such a bad listener.” the tinge of disappointment is heartbreaking. tears swimming in your eyes knowing you have let your daddy down and you only wish at that moment -no matter how overstimulated your pussy- you’d go back in time an hour ago to prevent yourself from acting up.

“i’m sorry daddy-” the little broken sob that slips between your trembling lips makes Ari question himself if he’s punishing you too harshly but he thinks otherwise.

so he just tuts you as if he is scolding a child and your eyes swell up with more tears and you feel your bottom lip trembling in hurt.

“Daddy doesn’t want to hear an apology, daddy wants you to stay still so he’ll bring two more cummies out of you,”

hot tears fall as your throbbing pussy is fluttering with pain and pleasure, honey euphoria taking over you moan as your thighs shake and you release on his rubbing fingers. chest slightly heaving, you sniff as you feel your tears drying on your cheeks and watch Ari bring your creamy essence to his lips.

“princess look at the mess you made on daddy's hand. let daddy clean it up for you,”

after that rude phone call you were said to be meeting up with a friend of Ari's, well wouldn't want to say ‘friends’ more on the lines of acquaintances.

"I thought today was just us, he's your friend so why are dragging me into this." you mutter, yet when you feel his soft gaze on your eyes ease on your anger.

"be nice for daddy, okay princess?" he murmurs into your ear, snuggling into your neck. your chest lifts as you try to take in a deep breath and all the offensive rude snappy remarks on the tip of your tongue soften.

you hate the effect Ari has on you, your superior diva persona of sharp wit and pettiness strips away at his sweet and considering remarks. you’re his little spontaneous firecracker but when he cups your chin you turn into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. his feisty tiger cub that always calms down with his calming words and even soothing touch.

“fine,” you say and he smiles down at your stuff pout, it’s the best you’re going to give him and for that he pulls you closer to his side in gratitude.

walking side by side through the crowds, Ari adjusts the cap of the baseball hat down his forehead and you tuck in a piece of his hair behind his ear. making a rose heated blush appear on his cheeks which only brings out a wide smile and giggle from you.

“so, where is he? where are we meeting your ‘friend’?” your comment is sharp yet still soft enough to not avert the vex towards Ari.

“he said to meet us at the circus tent, before the clown stunts,”

“you thinking i’m going to meet him is a clown stunt-” you couldn’t help but let it slip out, you were still mad and you can’t help not to express it.

“princess what did we agree to-” Ari heavily sighs, a simple sign your running his patience but you roll your eyes.

“I know what we agreed to but I know nothing about your so called ‘friend’,”

how the hell did Ari expect you to be nice and peachy with a complete stranger when he warns you of them on a constant basis?

“we aren’t friends, we just have business to deal with,”

“yeah and what a professional scene to deal business then in a tent with lions, tigers and bears-” and suddenly a sharp slap hits your bottom and your to stunned to even register it.

oh my, oh my you’re in for a surprise and you sense it when the powder blue egg color of Aris mystic eyes shades darker. that again is a warning, for you to drop the attitude and suck up to this little silly social gathering but the pulling voices of your angry thoughts echoing fuck no are getting the best of you.

you always had your way, always and forever.

you two were surrounded by people and you even thought yourself no matter how pissed he was he wasn’t going to spank you. not pull you over his lap for children and parents to see but looking around you notice the sound of rides, people chattering, and laughing and playful screaming is to loud. everyone minding there own business to even notice his hand gliding up to wrap his fingers around your neck.

“don’t make me loose my patience. you are going to greet him politely, sit with him and-”

“god Ari do you want me to fuck him to?” you grumble and with that Ari grabs your jaw, directing your stare to his.

the grip on your wrist slightly tightened, his soft lips are to the shell of your ear and from afar it may seem like Ari is whispering something kind and dear from the way he’s smiling but you feel the snide in his harshly hushed words.

“is it that hard for you to be nice for my sake for ten decent minutes? I won’t fucking hesitate to pull you over my knee and spank you for the clowns and acrobats to see. I promise princess, if you even step a toe out of line you’re going to pray you haven’t. do you understand me?”

your glare is your only response until you mutter a small I understand daddy through your teeth barely loud for him to hear.

“speak up princess. I said, do you understand me?” Ari says, his words softer now and the grip on your jaw and wrist soften.

pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek he averts her face to meet him. “I promise you’re not going to regret meeting him. i’ve pulled a few strings to get him here but it’s all for you to enjoy,” he says and you quirk a brow at him, a smile finally pulling at your lips easing Ari.

“and who is that?” you say but Ari shakes his head with a small smirk, “I know you’ve been telling me how close you are to publishing your book and I thought why not I bring the finish line to you,” he says, you are still confused.

Ari was right, you are so close to making a publishing deal but you haven’t received any word in months. you yourself are getting anxious but the way you left the establishment shaking hands with the famous Harlan Thrombey himself. how he emphasized being invested in your work tore all those worries and fears away.

although, you were suppose to receive a call months ago, yet deadlines and interruptions of some sort keep on pushing your meeting with Harlan week after week. after that a contract was supposed to be sealed and editor negotiations completed and done for. not three months later you’ve received nothing and here you are wondering if Mr. Thrombey is having second thoughts on your work.

what is Ari planning for you with his friend?

⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄⟡⋄⟢⋅⟡⋅⟣⋄

sweat glistening your hairline, your soft whimpers fill the fairy light tent, only causing Ari to grip your inner thighs tighter. all this while his hot cherry tongue slides in and out your slick hole, you throw your head back. this pleasure feels like a fantasy and you’ve been reminiscing it to this point.

trying to move your glossy locks of hair away from your eyes, you hate the way he snapped at you earlier how you weren't allowed to touch him. not touch his soft toffee hair, his thickly bearded cheeks and muscled forearms- not even the comfort of his hand.

cause you’re in trouble and you aren’t allowed to touch him or yourself now or later until he says so. you’re the bad girl and the bad girl doesn’t get what she wants, no matter how much she pouts and cries.

"daddy!" and his eyes snap to yours, the pretty innocent blue now replaced by yearning.

knowing better to call his private title in public but the empty red, blue, and yellow striped carnival tent is the only event to do something like this. the soft music of the carousel in the background fuzzy, one of his hands creep up your bodice.

pulling down the tight neckline of your dress, he grips the soft mound tit in his hand and you erotically whimper as he roughly pinches the hard nipple. your pale pink and white gingham dress crowded your upper hips yet still lengthy enough that it covers Ari’s head. large warm palms caress your frosty cotton thigh highs as long slow licks smooth the folds of your fluttering pussy, aching to be satisfied by the pulse of his dick.

slow circular strokes of his thumb rub along the small slippery nub and your thighs twitch in blissful thrill over each of his shoulders. your feet in pink strap heels bounce and flinch every time Ari shoves his tongue in your hole. pouring out moans from you as you imagine his lips polished and shiny with your sweet pussy milk.

you want to see him, you want to see him eat you up you’re desperate to move the cloth over his head. see him licking and sucking the sinful treat he craves everyday. hating the sight of just his head bobbing up and down and side to side from the cover of your own dress you want to meet his eyes as he loudly moans while eating you out. slipping the small and loud growls and carnal noises release as he as his special treat.

daring to do so, you reach the hem of the dress and pull the fabric off his head, and there you see your handsome candyman. tawny brown hair tasseled and cheekbones red from the heat his eyes twinkle in mystic hunger, his lips soaked in your sensual essense. both his hands softly gripping your thighs, stroking your hips as his tongue still deep in your hole you let out a small whimper as he slips it out.

pupils wide and both the corners of his mouth leak with saliva and your cum and you feel your legs shaking a slight when he licks the corners. more so feel your pussy wetten when he glides his tongue over his top teeth glaring at you. awaiting the degrading scowl he has for you yet your surprised when you doesn’t pinch your thighs or claw at your hips even when he just smiles.

“peek-a-boo angel,” he purrs, eyes back to their cloud heaven blue and you feel your heart melting in your chest although it quickens when you brings his tongue right back to your pussy.

“so you must be {y/n l/n}, i’ve heard so much about you.” the young man sitting across from you chimes. You and Ari sit side by side on one of the many picnic tables around the humongous red and white circus tent.

“good things I hope, you must be Mr. Drysdale. how are you?” flashing your pearly white smile you rest your hand in the mans extended hand.

“what a doll, i’m doing great and how are you doing on this fine day?”

peachy fucking keen

he sounds like he’s trying his hardest to at least sound interactive and social. blue eyes move from your face to your cleavage and you want to snap at him to fucking pick.

“well today was excellent as a matter fact, a special day. all until you came along, you see Mr. Drysdale-”

“please, call me Ransom. Ari Levinson, long time no see! before we catch up why don’t you buy your lady a soda pop. i’d like to know the writers first before signing them off to my publish house,” the young man remarks, his eyes not to yours at all but to the way your dress tightly hugs your body.

Ari sees this, anger bubbling inside him he bits his tongue. meeting Ransom from his latest cases he was shocked to find out that he hadn’t been convicted for the third degree murder his buddy was investigating that had him wrapped up into it. even more shocked to find out that he had inherited his grandfathers publishing company.

this ‘meeting’ is to ensure you get your book published and live in your glory. so instead of barking at Ransom telling him to stop eye fucking you he instead offers you a kiss to the cheek and a soft stern whisper in your ear.

“behave while i’m gone,” and with that he walks away to the food vendors, knowing full well that it’s going to be you that’s going to drive Ransom crazy and not the other way around.

“I don’t understand, when I spoke to Ari-”

“well sweetheart today’s your lucky day, it’s not like everyday you meet the CEO of the company you dream your work be published in.” his voice smooth he stares down at you with hungry blue eyes.

cursing yourself for wearing such an unprofessional outfit but how were you going to find out that you were going to make a book deal on a date.

“I don’t understand, I was suppose to meet with Mr. Thrombey-”

“oh have you not received any word? Harlan, my grandfather, passed away three months ago,” he says but every word in his voice sounds fabricated, remorseless.

your surprised once you feel a hand on your bare thigh, gripping it firmly and you shift away from Ransom. his tongue slowly licks his bottom lip when his blue irises catch yours, you had to admit they were pretty like Ari’s but they held something else- something darker.

keeping a safe distance away from you and Ransom you don’t move your eyes away from him, not cowering under his gaze but holding a stronger glance to him. you knew guys like this, you grew up surrounded by them and you even dated guys like him but not in a single situation did you let them take advantage of you.

so, besides sitting at the table trying to avoid a conversation you get this “meeting” over with. Verbally deflecting the flirtatious remarks of Mr. Drysdale. dodging the charming maneuvers of him asking you for more face to face meetings and you can sense the anger radiating off him. it only makes you wonder how long it takes just for Ari to get you a damn soda pop.

“i’m not sure if you’re qualified enough for a place at my establishment. you don’t seem to meet my criteria options and your work isn’t up to our standards,” he says looking down at his phone, typing a message to someone as if you weren’t worth his time.

“I don’t seem to meet your criteria options? you mean offering to take me out when you damn well know i’m already in a relationship? what is this? I thought we were talking about my book,” that sharp remark leaves him dropping his eyes back to his phone after he receives a message.

“my question is why are you with a man like Levinson? a sweet little lady like you with a busy man like him can’t treat you well, can’t pamper you well, can’t fuck you well-”

“we’re done here,” you feel your face getting hot with rage, you were wasting your precious vacation days on this. “and what about your book Ms. {y/l/n}?”

you’re up and away front the table yet you turn your head to meet his eyes again. no way in hell were you going to publish your book for a company runned by Mr. Drysdale.

“it seems as though your establishment isn’t up to my standards Mr. Drysdale,”

"d-daddy, am I sweet?" fluttering your lashes to him, a deep groan shakes against your throbbing cunt and you feel your organism washing over.

the continuous licking from the tip of his tongue tracing your hole and his thick fingers rubbing your puffy folds are removed just for his mouth to suck the sweet essence pooling your rose bud.

his sweet and innocent angel, so naughty and dirty at these times. such a sweet fucking treat, a sickeningly saccharine poison to easily overdose. sporting soft cotton candy thighs he doesn’t mind at all being in between them, licking the sweet sugary sweetness.

y/n l/n is a wish candy girl that’ll rot Ari’s teeth to his graveyard kind of girl and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

"like candy dolly. you're sweet like fucking sugar." you moan at the comment and he won't stop licking. sugar cotton floss, sticky candy apples, rainbow swirled lollies, and buttery caramel popcorn- you’re the whole damn candy bar and his head is so deep in Candyland he can’t think straight.

all he wants is to see is your pie crumble before him as you give him the custard filling. it’s what he’s been craving and the various messages that Ransom sent him whilst in the food line asking him if he could “take you off his hands” only increases the grind of his mouth and tongue on your bountiful mound.

"daddy's on a sugar rush," you giggle completely unaware of the situation Ari has dealt with but otherwise he smiles into your pussy.

god you always had the cutest shit to say when he’s eating your pussy and he fucking loves it, eats it up.

"bad princess, you're going to rot daddy's teeth," trying his hardest to not think about Ransom at a time like this, in his position with his mouth on you.

"mmh!- that’s so sad daddy. I always liked your smile," you moan and sigh, testing his patience once more you begin to lace your fingers through his long hair.

Ari shakes his head disapproving though he seems to occupied licking your saturation from your mound to bother telling you to keep your hands to yourself. keeping your fingers in his hair, his eyes meet yours in anger and with the glimmer of menace he knows so well in your eyes he should prepare for your reckoning.

with that a pretty petty smirk curls your lips as you yank his chocolate locks downward, shoving your dripping cunt as it grinds against his mouth. Ari doesn’t back away but invites it, pulling away slightly to glide his skilled fingers over the soaked folds avoiding your desperate hole.

a whimper slips out when Ari doesn’t give you the pleasure that’s lingering and dripping from your crux but only avoides you; but then again how long can Ari avoid your need for another release. burly arms wrap around your body’s waist as you pulls you onto his lap, letting you saunter your arms around his neck you stuff your face in his chest letting out a whinish sob.

“i’m sorry for misbehaving today Ari,” a bang of regret hits Ari’s chest.

this was all his fault for demanding you meet Ransom to see some opportunities for you when he himself knew it wasn’t the best idea.

“don’t be sorry angel, I went too far and you were right. I shouldn’t have forced you to meet him. shouldn’t have thought of this in the first place,” that little whisper followed with a kiss in between your brows.

he still can’t get the sleazy voice of Ransom offering to take you “off his hands” so you’d get a position at his company. feeling his sugar high blood boiling just remembering Ransom talking about you as if you were nothing but a pawn item for bargaining, right in front of you as if you had no say whatsoever.

“you know how I hate cutting corners, I wanna be successful because I worked hard. not because my boyfriend wanted me to take it easy and let a rich boy take care of it for me,” you whisper, head snuggling in Ari’s neck which he hums.

god, you may be stubborn but you were so loyal to your aspirations and independence. strong when he met you and stronger now, he always has admired that.

“remind me next time whenever I want to introduce you to someone who runs this relationship,” and you giggle at those words.

quickly straddling his lap arms wrapped around his neck you pull him closer till your nose rubs against his and your lips briefly touch his.

“I run this shit,” you cheekily whisper subtly licking his bottom lip and Ari takes your ass in his hands, lifting you up your legs wrap around his waist. “yes, you fucking do.” Ari growls and pulls your lips to his.

he’s all yours, your caring daddy, your carnival carnivore.

truly yours.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

#ari levinson smut #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson × reader #ari levinson #ransom drysdale × reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom thrombey smut #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #knives out #the red sea diving resort #chris evans characters #chris evans × reader #chris evans smut

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Randvi x female reader 💋

a sapphire for your heart, part IV

Morning found you wide awake and restless. Your bedding was a mess on the floor and you were lying on the fresh straw which filled your bed. Nausea threatened to spill with every little movement you made; nausea from lack of sleep, and from overthinking. But with a bit of effort you managed to push yourself to sit and wash down the bile with a jug full of lemon water.

The day was promising. It seemed a lot of passers-by had stopped by the docks to bring news or tend to various local business, and many curious young men and women were flocking around Reda’s tend of exotic wonders. You made a careful selection of your own items and brought them outside for the visitors to see and admire, and eventually purchase. Saxon women were especially interested in your variety of colorful fabrics; bright teal, gold, and crimson shawls which powerfully contrasted their otherwise somber outfits. But it was your natural charms that convinced reluctant men to buy expensive gifts for their wives and daughters, and by noon you nearly sold out everything you’ve selected for that day.

All, but one.

It was an emerald green, pure silk scarf, beautifully ornate with golden threads and precious garnet beads. You were offered a hefty sum for it, but you declined with a smile and neatly packed it in your bag.

There were several locals and guests in the longhouse, chatting and enjoying the first course of their supper. Among them, you spotted a beautiful Viking with bright auburn hair and a jug of mead in her large hand. She was accompanied by several friends whom she chatted and laughed with; perhaps it was not the best of times to speak with her. But before you could take your leave, a dark-haired woman waved her arm and asked you to join them at their table. Randvi turned her head to look and when she saw you, she smiled the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Your heart raced like a hummingbird, sending little thrills of excitement through every cell of your being.

God… you were bewitched.

“You must be Sapphire! I’m Petra, it’s nice to meet you.”

The woman who beckoned you grinned as she made room for you to sit next to her, and right across from Randvi. You fiercely battled to keep your emotions hidden, to appear collected as you spoke with the people who would accompany you the next day in your treasure hunt. You’d be a group of five, with Petra helping you explore paths safe from dangerous wild predators, and the other three were warriors meant to protect you. A small, but capable group. You drank in their names, clashed jugs with them, and with Randvi, and promised a good journey tomorrow. However, there was a troubling feeling gnawing at your thoughts – the fact that she wouldn’t be there with you.

Soon, the longhouse was full of people dancing and singing, and enjoying the pleasant company of one another as they feasted. In the overwhelming loudness of cheering and music, you excused yourself and went outside to get a breath of fresh air. The night was crisp, sobering you up and lessening the ache at your temples.

“Were we too much for you?”

Your heart jumped at the sound of a beautiful familiar voice caressing your ears. When you looked back, Randvi was standing right behind you on the wooden porch. The light from within cast a glow upon her tall, godly silhouette, making her appear holy. You tightened the hold on your bag, momentarily deciding to postpone gifting her the shawl.

“Not at all. It was the smoke, it stung my eyes.” You answered with a smile.

She slowly closed the distance between you, and with a kind palm at the small of your back she encouraged you to walk with her further away from the longhouse. It was a simple, ghostly touch which lasted a moment, and yet it set your heart ablaze.

How cruel fate must’ve been to plant the seed of desire so deep into your core, only to watch you twist and struggle against the shackles of sapphic love. The way Randvi seemed to glow beneath the pallid moonlight was enthralling; the whole blanket of shimmering stars reflected in her deep cobalt eyes.

“How do you like Ravensthorpe so far?”

She asked.

You glanced at her briefly; beside the lingering smell of smoke in the longhouse and her anguished cries in the night, everything was perfect! But you wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“It’s lovely. I’ve never been to a Viking settlement before. Your architecture and clothing designs are breathtaking.”

“Clothing designs?” She echoed, slightly amused; perhaps it was the mead.

“Yes. The fabrics you use, the intricate patterns and choice of color… the carvings in your shields and weapons. It’s beautiful.” You confessed with a smile. The way you spoke of her traditional wear made Randvi’s mirth dissolve into surprise.

There was a knot in your throat and your chest felt heavy, as if you were about to spill all the thoughts and feelings you’ve been silently enduring since the day you’ve been acquainted with her. The sound of the river reminded you of her pained, secret cries; you wanted to ask why. Yet all you could do was stand very still as you slowly lost yourself in the depth of her intense, beckoning gaze.

“What else do you like?” She inquired as she shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her large arms over her bosom. Her authoritative pose caught you off guard – heavens, she was a force you could not resist. Your gaze lingered on her dazzling eyes, and then slowly followed the trail of her sharp cheekbones and perfect jaw, all the way to her full lips.

“Your spirit.” You answered. “How your people fight – courageous, almost reckless, unified and strong. There’s something about you…”

Randvi’s interest slowly seemed to grow as she listened. You locked your eyes with hers again, and this time you couldn’t look away. It was beyond sinful to have certain thoughts about a married woman, and yet her allure was stripping you of all reason. If Sigurd was there, he’d probably raise a fist against you, and you’d be crazy enough to challenge him.

“I want you to join us tomorrow.”

Suddenly, you spoke.

“On the hunt you mean? I’m afraid I cannot. There is work I must tend to, here.” Randvi declined, albeit she was pleasantly surprised.

“Whatever work you have cannot be more important than such a great find – I want you to be there, to see the gold for yourself.” You felt as if you found a small grip on her will, and you weren’t about to let go. Something burned deep within you; a flame which would consume you whole if Randvi would refuse you again. Thankfully, she promised she’d consider it.

Delighted, you turned your head to hide a smile in the crook of your shoulder. All of a sudden, tomorrow seemed like decades away.

The graceful Viking walked you to each and every house of Ravensthorpe, introducing you to their current stores and notable landscapes to admire. The abundance of colorful flowers and their sweet smell was intoxicating, lulling you closer to Mother Nature’s chest. There was a soft bed of moss right beside the pool at the base of a waterfall, and that’s where you sat down to tell each other stories.

“Norway's mountains are quite treacherous. It snows heavily most of the year, and unless you’re an experienced tracker, you’d surely find your demise in those steep valleys.”

She spoke with a smile as she fondly remembered her homeland. You were intrigued, absorbing every word and watching her attentively as you learned about the Aurora Borealis and the myths of Odin and Freya, and ragnarok. How fiercely Asgard battled against Jotunheim, and how humans eventually outlived both gods and Jotuns. It was easy to picture these fables coming to life when Randvi told them in such refined detail and with so much confidence. There must’ve been a grain of truth to her words.

“Ymir's tear… I would die for that stone. I’ve heard stories of that gem scattered all over Asgard.” You sighed as you leaned back to stretch over that soft moss and gaze up at the night sky, in awe. You felt those precious blue eyes on you, yet you didn’t dare look, fearful that you’d lose yourself in them all over again.

“Sapphire is a very beautiful name.” She spoke, and you smiled.

“That’s not my birth name…” You confessed.

“Oh?...”

“When I was six years of age, I had this… feeling, as if I knew something was beneath my feet, pulsing, calling me.” You begun your tale and Randvi lowered herself on her side, watching you.

“I had this uncontrollable urge to dig, to see what lured me in and never let me sleep. I broke four of mother’s spoons trying to tear apart the dry, hard soil.” A brief laugh escaped you as you reminisced.

“At last, my older brother stole a shovel from the neighbor one night, and by morning we dug a hole thrice our size. The neighbor was furious, and mother was about to smack us when she saw what we did to our yard.

But then… beneath the damp, muddy floor of the cavern we dug, I felt it again. That urge, that call; I ripped the soil apart with my bare hands, and out I pulled a little satchel. Inside it were two sapphires. I can see them now… shimmering in the light of dawn… they felt sharp and cold, and fit perfectly into my hands, as if they were made for me.” You bit back a smile as you turned your head and saw Randvi, in all of her beauteous glory, propped on her elbow and watching you in awe. Her eyes were just like the sapphires you fell in love with.

“And then?...” She asked with vivid curiosity.

“Mother sold them to buy a farm. And when I was nine summers old, a cart with two travelers stopped by and took me. They promised mother silver, and that I’d be returned by fall with a bag full of precious stones. But… when we returned… We found the farm abandoned, burnt to the ground.”

Randvi’s gaze seemed to soften with sorrow, yet your grin never faltered as you shook your head.

“I kept on traveling, I saw the world. They called me Sapphire ever since, and I forgot my birth name as the years went by… The world, Randvi… it’s so beautiful…” You pushed yourself to sit, drawing closer as you whispered to her.

“Come with me in the morning, let us explore and travel together...”

Her auburn lashes fluttered, as if she was awoken from a trance. She took a moment to think, to find her words or collect herself; but when she turned to meet your gaze again, she answered with a nod.

“I will. I wish to see you dig for gemstones, to see your blessed hands pull treasures free from the earth.”

Your chest swelled with joy, and all at once you were buzzing with excitement.  

-          To be continued…

*part V.

#valhalla #randvi x reader #randvi fanfiction #randvi #lesbian love #sapphic love #lesbian fanfic

[darkpoisonouslove]

The Road of Words

Summary: Griffin is visiting Valtor at the hospital after he got injured pulling a stunt to impress her. He has to wake up to see the results of his efforts and Griffin swears to put in an effort of her own to reach back to him.

CW: mentions of coma, head injury, blood, self-harm (very minor but it counts), self-deprecation

@trashcankitty12​ requested the following prompt - You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up - and I did my best to deliver. Not a scenario I usually dig but I tried to give it a spark of originality.

Songs I listened to while writing this and I feel like really fit the tone of the fic are Promise by Fytch and Tether Me By Galleaux. Give them a listen if you feel like it!

Griffin's fingers clutched the smooth pot desperately. It was heavy and slipping in her sweaty palm. There was no heat left in her body for the cold clay to absorb. The dread had numbed her to anything but the occupied hospital bed she was looking for.

She'd gotten directions at the reception after giving her name. She had to be on some kind of list with allowed visitors when she had no business being there. Just like Valtor.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat only the frozen blue of his eyes could wash away as she reached for the handle on a pristine door. Behind it was Valtor, lying motionless like she'd never been prepared to see him. For all of her resistance to his flirting, she'd always figured the first time she caught a glimpse of him in a bed would be with herself underneath him and pinned to the mattress by his rippling muscles and disarming smile.

A notification from Instagram had found her in the middle of the night curled up with a novel. Valtor had tagged her in a photo of a rare flower he'd taken hours earlier at sunset. The captured moment had found her despite the tricky signal on his mountain climbing hike and she'd drifted off to sleep with a smile still on her face and a warmth in her heart.

Her tea had been steaming in her half-empty mug the next morning when the twins had called her with the headline that Valtor had been found with a head trauma and taken to the hospital.

Coma.

She'd thrown every window of her apartment open but all the chilly morning air had done had been to shake her to her core. Her lungs had heaved with dry sobs as she'd looked down from the 40th floor, hands clutching at the windowsill. He would've climbed up the side of the building if she'd asked it of him. All she had done had been letting them both down time and time again.

Griffin pushed the door open slowly. Her heart pounded in her ears to compensate for the stillness on the other side of the door and and her finger trembled over the cactus in the pot. Prickling it would spill red to drown out the unblemished peacefulness of the hospital room in case it was too unbearable.

Valtor's parents were sitting on a couch opposite from the door amidst too much chaos in place of the rigidness she'd expected. Elinor's long black hair spilled over Ailan's suit jacket and his shoulder where she'd rested her head as if it were too heavy. Her usual stoicism had melted off of her lean form. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she'd missed to wipe away a smudge of her mascara. Ailan's hand was gentle on the crown of her head but his knuckles had turned white gripping at his own knee. His leg twitched in failed restraint to keep it from bouncing and his lips moved senselessly in his wife's hair. He was pulled taut like a bandage stretched to tearing over a wound that was too big. Nothing in their stance spoke of both their remarkable height or the power their name carried.

"Griffin," Elinor rose up from her husband's chest. He offered her his handkerchief at the sound of her nasal voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," Griffin was stuck to the floor, her legs made of lead. It would be like stepping on their graves to go any closer to them. Her hard-to-get routine had left their son limp in that bed.

"It's okay, dear," Ailan rubbed Elinor's back while she was blowing her nose quietly. "I'm sure he'd want you here. Maybe he'll feel your presence. He's always been attuned to it."

Griffin swallowed. Valtor had put his whole heart into getting to know her. He'd found a way into hers through the suffocation she'd subjected it to to avoid a crack in her walls. And now the only sound coming from him was that of his shallow breaths.

"We'll be outside on a short walk." Ailan helped Elinor up and they leaned on each other. Their steps were slow but steady as they passed by her and Elinor squeezed her shoulder instead of holding on to her husband.

Griffin had to push her finger on the cactus in her hands for the pain to ground her. The moment the door closed behind Valtor's parents, her knees gave out and she slumped in the chair at the side of the bed. Their company had been a punishment but one well deserved.

The quiet hit her harder now that she had proof she was the cause of it. She'd always been but Valtor had been filling it–and her lungs–with his sweet talk. She'd come to talk but her throat was parched like she'd choked on the sun.

All the ashes of the moments she'd let burn out were flickering over her skin to brand it with echoes of the words she'd never said. Her breath had stopped the first time she'd laid eyes on Valtor's shapely physique and his confident stance, on his strong jaw and striking eyes as he'd introduced himself as a benefactor to the school where she'd grown up and was working. She'd smiled to herself watching him do an art course for her students through a window after she'd refused to be the head of the project and his supervisor. She'd discussed books with him till the middle of the night and had never said a word about his pick-up lines. She'd accepted his invitations to a matinee raising awareness about endangered species in the local botanical gardens and a charity fundraiser for victims of abuse but had never replied to his date suggestions. So many things he'd said to her and she'd kept her silence, and her distance.

Her grip tightened on the pot with the cactus. She'd smeared her blood on the side like some sort of magical ritual to bind her life force to that of the cactus, and of Valtor. She'd picked a succulent that survived with the same tenacity he'd shown and bloomed in the color of her hair. She hadn't managed to kill that one even when she'd stopped tending to her plants for months on end alongside abandoning Faragonda and Valtor appreciated her and her efforts. He had to wake up and give the cactus the same devotion he'd put in the photograph that had won her over.

"In the eye of the sun," the caption had read under the glowing halo of light the sunset had become around the flower's crown of purple-bluish petals.

Griffin left the cactus on the nightstand before she'd broken the pot. She dropped off her purse next to it and wiped her palms in her charcoal skirt mindful of the blood oozing from the pinprick on her finger. She didn't take Valtor's hand into hers. She'd left her fingerprints on him.

"I came here for myself as much as I did it for you. Because it turns out you've become a part of my life no matter how much I was trying to avoid just that." She'd grasped it in the artfulness of the photograph – he was the sun and she was the flower as much as the opposite was true as well. Her eyes were the golden ones but his gaze was the only thing that would brighten her day. If he'd give it to her. If she hadn't made it to the end of the universe where sunlight didn't reach.

"I was scared to know where the road stopped for us. I didn't want to face an inevitability. But I figured I'm more afraid of not knowing just how far we can go." The sun would rise one day on a dead flower but if Griffin let herself, she could have with Valtor what his parents did. She could have a lifetime full of love – in the eye of the sun instead of the storm. "I was scared of being just a speck of ink on your life but I will be. I will be anything you want me to be."

Her finger wasn't bleeding anymore but her heart hadn't stopped. It was pumping blood in her veins frantically to keep her moving and breathing long enough to be anything to him. Being just a short footnote to his life explaining his condition would be enough for her as long as he survived it.

"What do I have to do to show you how much you mean to me if you're still not convinced?" The silence shattered from the power of Valtor's voice and air cut into her lungs.

Tears spilled from her eyes like liquid sunlight. "Valtor."

()()()()

Her heart was hammering under her palm like it was trying to knock her down where she was leaning on the wall next to Valtor's door. It'd been a long while since she'd ran out to get the doctor and then Valtor's parents. They were inside now along with her purse and her tears had dried on her cheeks but her heart wouldn't settle. It wanted to shoot out of her chest and land only in Valtor's hands after she'd dashed out the door without another word. She hadn't had any this time. Otherwise, they would've spilled out along with her tears.

The door opened and Elinor stepped outside. Her blue eyes had lit up with the light of a whole sky full of stars and the corners of her mouth couldn't contain her smile. She was steady on her heels in her own right again. Her husband was a reflection of her lightness once again rather than a crutch to support her weight.

"Thank you, Griffin," Elinor drew her into a hug that turned her stomach. "You were there five minutes and he woke up."

Griffin's hands weighed like anvils on Elinor's back and would break her spine with the words pushing on Griffin's tongue. "No, it's all my fault he ended up here in the first place," she could hear herself speaking from afar through the confusion dizzying her mind that would have sent her tumbling down if not for Elinor's embrace. If she'd been more honest with Valtor–and with herself–she never would've pushed them down that road. She'd made him feel like he needed to prove something just because she was woven from distrust in the dark. "I'm sorry."

Elinor pulled back, eyes locked with Griffin and hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to apologize to me. Valtor makes his own decisions and I wouldn't stop him. You've been unfair to yourself in your refusal to believe he was seeing your worth."

Griffin grabbed on to Elinor's arms as the world spun around her on its head. Valtor had gone to such lengths for her, to show her her own worth, not to prove his feelings. He'd risked his life for a single photograph when she hadn't believed his words. And she'd received the message – loud and clear.

"Thank you," Griffin squeezed Elinor's hands whose touch was gentle despite the strength in her arms – just like Griffin's own mother's had been. She was lucky to have found someone with the same striking wisdom to advise her in the wake of her parents' deaths.

"Go to him," Elinor brushed a strand of purple hair from where it'd stuck to the salty tracks on Griffin's cheek. "He's been asking for you." With a nod of encouragement Elinor released her.

Griffin pushed the door open to draw the attention of both men inside. Ailan nodded at her and patted Valtor on the shoulder before making his way out quickly and closing the door.

Griffin and Valtor stared at each other wordlessly. She took in the way every inch of him moved with vitality. His lungs drew in full breaths and her smile got a wide grin in return. How had she ever doubted the shine in his eyes? He was glowing like the sight of her infused him with pure light.

"Thanks for the cactus," Valtor reached over to pull it to the edge of the nightstand, fingers brushing the leather of her purse still lying abandoned there. "Now I'll have company in my prickliness."

Griffin chuckled despite herself and shook her head. "That's not why I brought it. I was hoping it would lend you some of its resilience." The confession came out whole instead of shredded in pieces like she'd feared. "It has survived through many years with me."

"There was no way I wouldn't pull through with you here but why did you come? Was it just fear that drove you here, saying the things of my dreams?"

Her heart jumped in her throat and she had to swallow it to speak, not to keep him from seeing it. She sat down in the chair by the bedside again. It was quickly becoming a monument of their relationship's development.

"I don't know how much you heard of what I said before but I was scared. I was scared I would never get to tell you the photo got through to me because I'd been so scared to act, to feel. I hardly made it through the loss of my parents," Griffin choked back the memories spilling into her eyes. "It was so hard for me to believe in my own future when I'd been pulled from my roots. I've been living on willpower and instinct but I'm ready to feel again, to love again. With you."

Valtor offered her a hand and she took it. He brought it to his mouth for a kiss, the breath from his lips scorching her nerves with the pleasant shiver it sent over her skin. They'd held hands as they'd danced but they'd never made it closer to each other than an inch apart.

"I heard you say you'd be anything I want." Valtor's sly smile had her resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He had something positively scandalous on his mind. "I want you to be my wife."

"Valtor!" Heat rose inside her – overwhelmingly invigorating in the subtlety of the romantic history between them. "Ask me on a date first." She'd say yes this time. She'd say yes any time.

"Take your time. I'll ask you on a thousand dates. We have a whole future in front of us," Valtor laced their fingers together.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #200fc #i'll tag valtor's parents when i come up with a surname for them

[ginnyweasely]

HEAD OVER HEELS [PT.3] DRACO MALFOY X READER

pairings: draco malfoy x reader, a lil blaise zabini x reader

warnings: angst just a sh!t ton of angst, some lil sad stuff, swearing?? but light

summary:some soft!draco flashbacks and more insight about what happened between draco and the reader<3

word count:2.3k+

A/N: heyyy!! this is more like an insight from events on last year but still wanted to update!! i got like 2-3 [???] more parts to finish this story i think<3 hope you guys enjoy!! also i wanna create a taglist so send me a request on my ask to be ADDED TO MY DRACO TAGLIST!! also feedback is allwayyss appreciated!! :) enjoy loves

PART 1 |  PART 2 |  MASTERLIST | ASK/SEND REQUESTS

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Y/N was too in her thoughts to even notice the very worried Hermione, in front of her, she got back to the Gryffindor common room after the whole incident with Draco, and never realized how much time she had spent just thinking about him. Being alone with her thoughts scared her for this reason, she wandered off and thought about so many things that she knew would upset her, and she hated it.

She thought about how she could never be with Draco, because he confused her, she didn’t know what he was feeling, even if he was feeling something for her, it was not deep and strong enough that he wanted to be with Y/N, or so she thought.

Y/N didn’t know what exactly Draco thought about her, she didn’t know what was going through his mind when Y/N got with Harry, it was definitely not positive thoughts because he hated it.

he hated even the idea of them, but them being together in real life in front of his eyes? It made him infuriated and nauseous. He couldn’t stand it.

He felt betrayed by Y/N, he felt betrayed that she of all people would choose Harry over him, Draco always thought that he would be with Y/N, maybe not at the time or maybe not in 2 years, 

but eventually he felt she would be his, his girlfriend. At least he hoped for that, he wanted her in every single way possible. It was obvious, the way he looked at her, the way she was the few people who could make him genuinely laugh, the way he would drop everything for her at a heartbeat, it was obvious to everyone, or everyone except for her it seemed.

Draco always felt second best to Harry, and when Y/N, the love of his life was dating Harry, he felt his heart break more than ever, he never thought he would lose her to him too.

He hated Harry because he always needed to compete with him, to be better than him, Draco hated having this competitive side but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be the best, first, not second. It infuriated him.

But this was more than a competition, it was a heartbreak, Draco lost her to his worst enemy, he thought the only thing he had that Harry couldn’t steal was Y/N, but it happened anyway, it crushed him to his core, that little part of him that cared about basically everything was crushed, in minutes, seconds even.

Draco knew Y/N was friends with Harry, Ron, Hermione and even that upset him, but dating Harry was the line for him, he knew he was closer to Y/N than the Golden Trio, especially the night the two shared together at the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

He knew they were closest which each other when these words left Y/N’s pretty little mouth, “Wow, I’ve never talked about these things with anyone, like not even out loud to myself.” He knew right there and then she was the person he could share everything with.

Draco was of course at first upset about her being a Gryffindor, but once he got to know her, he didn’t care, he realized how Y/N was more than her house. She was really pretty, smart, super kind -which is what made Draco like her in the first place- , and of course she was a really courageous caring person.

Y/N’s parents surprisingly were friends with the Malfoy’s despite their beliefs being different, this helped the two’s friendship more than ever, Narcissa adored Y/N, she admired her intelligence, her pretty face and her brave bright soul. 

She always loved the pair hanging around and encouraged the two, even mentioning it to Draco once or twice, as Draco smiled happily at the thought of getting his mom’s approval about you.

Draco always kept his feelings from Y/N in secret. Deep deep inside of him where no one could even find out. Of course he showed his friend side to her, but he was afraid of what she might say if he finally opened up to her, so he did his best to try and hide his feelings.

Occasionally or more like always he would blurt out compliments and would brush her hair out of her face, so he could get a better look at her beautiful face, in which the both actions would cause the girl to immediately blush up at him.

He was fine at keeping his feelings bottled up, until he realized Harry and Y/N were getting closer and closer, it made him absolutely furious, and after some inner debates with himself, he finally decided, he was gonna open up to you.  He realized he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to do something, he needed to make you his.

He knew that even if Y/N said she wasn’t into romantic sappy sh!t, she actually was, she loved cute small romantic gestures, so him being the puppy dog eyed in love boy, Draco asked his friends for help and had somewhat of a surprise for you waiting in the Slytherin common room. 

As his plans were finally finished he happily looked around for you, his eyes searching for you nervously.

His hands were sweaty and he kept fiddling with his hair out of sheer nervousness, he kept walking, to the Gryffindor common room, since he didn’t know the password, he forced one of the first years to let him in.

Excitedly he got inside and his eyes searched for you one last time, as he landed his eyes on you, his eyes sparkled in joy, the boy almost jumped up and down from happiness.

He quickly made his way to you before speaking up nervously “Hi, Y/N!” Draco exclaimed. “Hi Draco!” Y/N exclaimed just as happily giving him a warm smile, he smiled up at her once again.

 “I just wanted to tell you that um-“ Draco was interrupted at the sight of him. Harry, he appeared out of nowhere, making Draco’s smile fade quickly, but what even made his smile turn into a whole growl and his fists clenching tightly together was Harry’S next move, Harry approached Y/N and kissed her on the lips slowly smiling at her, Draco’s mouth went dry, his whole world shattered in front of his eyes, he felt sick to his stomach at the sight in front of him, he knew he had to leave or else he was gonna do something stupid, he quickly turned around basically sprinting out of the common room as a worried Y/N followed him.

“Hey! Draco what did you wanna say to me?” Y/N basically yelled from behind him making Draco curse himself mentally for not being faster. “It’s nothing really, I just um had something but it’s whatever, I have to go.” 

Draco said firmly not daring to turn around to meet the girl, and later disappeared into the corridors. Draco spent the entire evening of that day, frowning and really angry that he scared his friends off, he spent the whole day moping around about Y/N, the girl who broke his heart.

Of course Y/N did not know any of this, she didn’t know about his long crush on her, she didn’t know the effect she had on the poor boy, she didn’t know about the surprise, she only knew how upset Draco became once she started dating Harry, she never quiet understood it until that one moment she had with Draco.

It was back when she was dating Harry, she slowly but surely noticed the Malfoy boy distancing himself away from her, it upset her so much, too much in fact that even Harry was getting annoyed by it, she didn’t know why Malfoy was avoiding her and she wanted to know, it pissed her off so much and she couldn’t take it anymore, so when she ran into the platinum headed boy in the corridors and he tried to brush her off once again she had enough.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Y/N said nearly yelling as Draco’s eyes widened at her using his middle name, “You need to tell me what the fvck is going on right now!” She exclaimed angrily as Draco just sighed and pulled her by her wrists to some place quiet so he could explain.

“Nothing is going on, Y/N. Just leave me alone and don’t make a scene like that again please.” Draco muttered and he was ready to leave as Y/N reached her hand to his arm, having a tight grip on the boys arm “Draco.. please don’t go, I can’t stand you avoiding me... I can’t stand not being your friend or being there for each other. Can you just tell me so we can fix it?” Y/N said softly, as Draco sighed turning around as his eyes met hers.

“There’s nothing to talk about Y/N! There’s nothing to fvckng fix! How are you gonna fix my broken heart? The broken heart you caused.. I loved you Y/N but you chose him!” Draco said angrily.

 Y/N’s eyes widened at the confession and she looked at him sadly, “You made your choice, I can’t do anything about that.” Draco said bitterly and sad as he walked away, leaving Y/N all alone.

It was from that day on that Y/N and Harry’s relationship changed, it was as if the confession had something on Y/N -and it did.- it was all she could think about, she didn’t know what to do and it ruined her and Harry’s relationship, well the main reason was that they didn’t really get along but this was a part of it too.

She knew after the break up that she felt the same way towards Malfoy, and that’s why she was scared to even talk to him, scared of his reaction. And she realized now, she was right to be scared, Draco distanced himself from Y/N too much, too long, they no longer had the closeness they once shared, this made Y/N even more anxious, he wanted to be with Draco but he just made her confused, he made her jealous, he made her sad, all she wanted was him to be with her.

“Y/N? I’M talking to you!” Hermione said louder this time and waving her hand in front of Y/N’s face, finally causing the girl to snap out of her deep thoughts. “Huh?” Y/N muttered out as Hermione sighed, “Come on let’s get you to bed, we’ll talk later tomorrow, okay?” Hermione said softly as Y/N nodded simply, following Hermione to the dorm.

***

The next few days were like a blur to Y/N, she didn't mean for them to be that way, but it happened, she couldn't help it, she tried her best she tried her best to not be this sad sappy heartbroken girl, but she couldn’t help it, she tried her best to snap out of it, but seeing him in the halls were still a little too much for Y/N. 

Hanging out with her friends did ease some of it, but she was still very much hung up on Draco, and it didn’t help that every time they saw each other, their eyes would linger onto each other, as they stared at each other for a long time, it made both of their hearts ache, but they couldn’t help it.

Y/N didn't like the situation they were in, she wanted clarity, she wanted to know what was Draco's deal, what he felt, what he wanted with her, and make him trust her again, she couldn't believe that her dating Harry would even cause this much problem, hell she even cursed herself so much for even dating him in the first place. 

She never knew that things were this beyond broken between them, even the thought crushed her. She wanted everything to be okay, hell she wanted everything to be perfect with them.

She wanted to make Draco believe her, and she wanted to know about how Draco really felt. She wanted more than the few exchanged glances in the hallway, she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to fix it, she wanted to make things better, but more than ever, she wanted him.

***

Y/N walked into the Transfigurations class, making her way to her seat quietly and she got out her books quickly. As the Professor arrived and the class started, she started taking her notes, not wanting to miss anything, it was obvious that she had been distracted the few days prior, so of course after a while of taking long notes, her mind shifted, shifted back to where it shouldn’t shift, to Draco.

She tried her best to get his mind off him the whole class, which meant that she had to battle between taking notes and then being distracted, taking notes and then being distracted, which repeated until the class was over, she finally sighed in relief as she tried her best to quickly gather her books, struggling to fit them in her bag.

A nudge on her shoulder snapped her out of her focused bag situation as she turned around curiously, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sight in front of her, “I really really need your help with something.” The boy said desperately as Y/N sighed for the 500th time today “Zabini.” 

Y/N said annoyedly, as Blaise just smirked at her calling him by his last name.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fics #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy imagines #draco x y/n #draco x reader #harry potter imagines

[writingbakery]

“season of the witch (& the werewolf)”

this is purely indulgent, fluffy, silly nonsense i dreamed up a while back, & am finally pushing out into the world! i may add more parts if it’s well received! <3 taglist; @lady-bakuhoe @katsukisprincess

[pairing; werewolf! kirishima x witch! reader]

[warnings; fluff, pining, crack, strangers to lovers, soft moments, clumsiness, slice of life, magical au]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

fall, mid september

the leaves crunch sweetly beneath your boots as you make your way through campus; the air is chilly, still, like it’s holding an unspoken breath. how silly.

you shake off the lingering feeling that something.... important is about to happen, focusing your thoughts back on potions - magical college was much harder than normal college, and as a young witch in training, you needed to stay on track. this was only your second of six years; the almost daunting courseload was lightened only by the knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, hopelessly in love with magic.

as a green witch, potions is a major part of your studies - second only to herbology, a smile on your lips as you remember your blooming greenhouse. potions and spells were vital to every witch, but in your case, they were the focal points of your magic. being in tune with wildlife was one thing; being able to borrow from & control it was entirely another.

you’re lucky, however - it’s fall, aptly dubbed the “season of the witch”, your magic stronger and more present. it’s your favorite season, partially because of the energy rush and partially because of everything it entails; halloween, chillier weather, your favorite films on tv.

so wrapped up in thoughts of elderflower and frog legs are you that you don’t even see the person in front of you, colliding with a sturdy chest and nearly toppling to the ground. nearly.

strong arms snake around your waist to catch you, warmth radiating from the laughing body of the man who’s both your savior and your reason for needing saving.

tall, broad, with a shock of red hair and peeking dark roots, smiling so wide you can count all four sharp fangs & hardened incisors - a werewolf’s mouth, if you remember your shifters correctly.

“careful there! that’s a pretty face, i’d hate to let the ground have it all for itself,” the werewolf teases, and you flush darkly before pulling yourself together.

“sorry, i was just.... wrapped up. potions,” you attempt to explain, but the tall redhead just waves off your concerns. now that you’re looking at him properly, he seems oddly familiar, like you’ve seen him but never seen him.

“it’s half my fault anyways, i was too busy lookin’ at the birds,” he shrugs, shaking his head. “i think you’re in my potions class. professor greenbirch? just finished?” that’s where you’ve seen him. a back row sitter, usually half asleep in his cauldron or dicking around with friends.

“that’s the one. this project has sort of taken over all my free thinking space,” you admit, tapping your fingers against your textbook; the way the young werewolf’s eyes widen makes you giggle. “i figured you missed that part. i’m [y/n l/n], green witch & second year.” you hold out your hand, which the werewolf blatantly ignores, pulling you into a rib crushing hug instead.

“i’m eijiro kirishima, also a second year and werewolf - but i’m sure you guessed that already! since i crashed into you so rudely, lemme buy you a coffee? and maybe we can team up on this project i had absolutely no clue about,” he laughs, and his smile is so bright you don’t have the heart to say no. besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

“sure,” you agree, gently prying yourself from his grip, and the two of you are off to the local cafe for chamomile tea and brainstorming.

winter, late january

you frown as you peek out of your frosted window, tending to your greenhouse plants. the weather’s been too chilly for them to thrive the way you want, & your heating spells can only do so much. bundling up in an oversized hoodie and gloves isn’t helping your shivers, but at least youre not directly outside.

technically, you’re meant to be picking herbs and various natural ingredients for your workspace, restocking on materials so that you can continue your studies - and your flourishing side business selling potions to your classmates.

instead, however...

krishima bounds through the grass excitedly, his wolf in full form - silky black fur, tinged with red, a massive creature that had frightened you nearly to death the first time you’d seen it.

ever since that day, swapping project ideas in the warm and bustling cafe, he’d been glued to your side, like a puppy nipping at your heels - he helped you with errands, kept you company late at night when you were lost in spellbooks, and even brought you coffee on the way to potions class. he’d become a great friend, and you were lucky to have him, as much as you teasingly complained about his clinginess.

although, as you watch his body morph and shift back into lean, corded muscle and a sunshine smile, the butterflies erupt full force, and you’re starting to realize you can’t hide your blossoming feelings forever.

he’s shirtless, as usual, a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he cheerfully drops the basket of ingredients next to you, eyeing your shivering form. for a moment you’re almost jealous of his wolvine blood, keeping his blood burning boiling hot despite the cold nipping at his skin. your eyes travel lower, past the broad width of his shoulders, trailing down the cut of his abs & the sprinkling of his dark-haired happy trail disappearing into sweats that hid nothing - clinging to well muscled thighs, and a very impressive print—

you pull yourself out of such thoughts with another shiver, although kirishima blames it on the cold, bless his heart. he’s quick to pull you into one of his notoriously strong hugs, surrounding you in warmth and a hint of cinnamon & pine, a scent you’ve come to associate him with.

it’s nice, comforting almost, and you can pretend you’re not flushing pink from his muscled arms around your waist, keeping you close.

“did you get everything?” you ask instead, pulling back a bit to eye his expression - kirishima has a tendency to get distracted in the woods, “playing tag” with the squirrels and diving into lakes. such a puppy at heart.

he nods, however, his toothy grin showing he’s extremely proud of himself. “i’ll show you everything i got in a minute - i found these really cool pebbles, and this super rare flower, but first we’ve got to warm you up.”

you flush deeper at that, ignoring his teasing tone as you cuddle closer to him, a little unconsciously. “whatever, puppy brain. not all of us have blood so hot it melts steel,” you grumble.

his laughter disturbs every bird in a ten mile radius, but it’s disarmingly cute, and very fitting - you’re smitten to the core, no matter how hard you try to deny it to yourself.

spring, late may

the weather’s finally warm enough to make your brow line with sweat as you dig out weeds, your floppy sunhat somewhat shielding you from the bright sun. your plants are finally coming in strong, tall and leafy and bubbling with happiness that seeps through your pores every time you brush over their stems.

it fills you with pride, a sense of giddiness that’s only heightened when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you, loud and full of sunshine you can’t shield your heart from.

kirishima’s in his element during the springtime, shedding his old fur, touching up his dyejob - the reds twice as vibrant now, and your fingers itch to play with the gelled up strands.

his skin flushes golden under the warm rays, makes him sunkissed and beautiful in all the right ways - you’re lucky to breathe normally around him, let alone control your racing heart.

he spots you easily, waving goodbye to his classmates before dropping down next to you with enough force to shake the dirt in your hands. he’s quick to hug you, immediately launching into a sped up recount of his day - all the while holding you close, nearly in his lap. odd.

he’d been clingier than usual lately, always hugging you close or playing with your fingers, face buried in your neck when he got tired or upset. it’s sweet, even adorable, but your tender heart can barely take it, and you’re not sure how to bring it up without making him - or yourself - embarrassed.

for now, you’ll just soak up the extra attention & hope to god it doesn’t make the fluttering in your stomach worse, your aura sickly sweet pink and flushed enough. eventually, you’d have to confess how you felt - it was eating you alive.

for now, however, this is enough. you tuck a daisy behind kirishima’s ear and laugh at the way he sneezes immediately, confusion written all over his face.

summer, early july

it’s sweltering, your greenhouse & garden safely locked away under cooling charms as you drape yourself over the couch in kirishima’s dorm room. you’re sweating despite the fan tucked under your shirt and ice cubes in your mouth, probably because you’ve got a redheaded, hotblooded werewolf in your lap.

kirishima’s clinginess has only gotten worse, not even the heat keeping him from burying his face in your stomach, arms tucked around your thighs. it’s lovely but too warm, the added heat from his body stifling as you finally push him off.

“too hot,” you complain, but kiri just wines in response, and you clumsily pat his head in apology.

he surprises you, leaning up to nuzzle his cheek against your palm, even kissing your fingers. he’s got your full attention now, and you watch his affectionate actions with a smile.

“what’s gotten into you, hm? you’ve been real cuddly, pup,” you hum, and the way his cheeks redden makes you laugh. “what, you thought i hadn’t noticed? you’ve been stuck to me like beetroot on toadeye powder, what’s going on?”

you’d kept mostly quiet about his ever increasing clingy behavior, but with the way he’s avoiding your eyes, you’ve got a feeling you know just what his response will be, and your heartbeat quickens.

he’s quiet for a long stretch, opening & closing his mouth like he’s deciding just what to say, & how to ssy it. it’s endearing, but you’re nervous, waiting to hear the words you’d been praying for.

“fuck it,” he says suddenly, sitting up on the floor so that his face is right up next to yours. confusion fills you as you sit up too, attempting to make space - but he tugs you right back down by your hands, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once, twice.

and then he kisses you, soft and sweet with a thousand and one unspoken words. it’s so gentle, a caress of his lips on yours and before you know it your hands are tangled in bright red locks, keeping him close.

“oh,” you say softly once you finally part, chest light and airy despite being breathless; kiri just laughs shyly, kissing your hands with a grin.

“yeah, oh. guess we should’ve done that sooner,” he blushes, but his tone’s still teasing - as always.

you roll your eyes and whack him lightly with your joined hands, your smile too wide to contain.

“and to think, all that pining for nothing,” you tease back, squealing as the young werewolf comes to bury you in a flurry of kisses, sweet and soft and full of love.

fall, mid october

you trudge through the grass, yawning as you crunch through the multi-colored leaves. there’s leafpiles everywhere - perfect for jumping, your inner child says, and you smile. it’s just chilly enough to make you shiver, but warm enough to forget a coat, and you hum as you walk, deciding to indulge yourself a little and kick through the masses of leaves.

however, you’re not accounting for the twigs to catch at your ankles, stumbling down and you wince as you brace for the rough fall—

two strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you up and back against a strong chest, rumbling with laughter. cinnamon and pine tickles your nose, and you smile wider, giggling a bit yourself.

“we really gotta stop meeting like this,” kirishima teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek before setting you back on your feet. you spin around quickly, hands resting lightly against his chest as you lean up to kiss him proper.

“oh shut it. don’t think i’ve forgotten about you rolling through the leafpiles like a puupydog,” you laugh, poking his cheeks gently; he’s dressed warmer than usual, a college hoodie and a varsity jacket. he’s quick to peel the latter off, however, and drape it over your shoulders. oh.

“i had a feeling my favorite little witch wasn’t dressed warm enough, so i came to rescue them from the cold,” he explains, taking your hands and kissing at the chilled skin. he’s always thoughtful like that, looking after you so sweetly. it makes your heart swell and your cheeks pink, the way he’s always thinking of you.

“well i had a feeling my favorite puppy hadnt taken in enough nutrients today, especially after a full moon’s night spent wandering in the forest. elderflower and ginger, to help with all your aches & pains,” you chastise gently, holding up the thermos full of herbal tea.

kiri takes the thermos with an excited gasp - he loves when you brew him things, always claims it’s twice as special coming from your hands. now that you have separate potions II classes, he can’t partner with you anymore, so he readily accepts whatever you give him happily.

“we still on for pumpkin picking? i wanna carve out professor horden’s creepy ghoul face to scare bakugou.” his voice rings out excitedly between sips, taking your hand in his free one once more; you laugh at his silliness, your heart twice as full as last year and steady growing.

the pair of you walk through campus just like this; holding hands and laughing about everything & nothing all at once, the future bright.

it’s the season of the witch, after all - the witch and the werewolf.

#bnha kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima fluff #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #boku no hero fluff #werewolf kirishima #magic au #evywrites

[tosikoarts]

SFW Alphabet | Tsukishima Hajime

Here he comes, my favorite boy. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Showing affection is something Tsukishima forgot how to do. It is almost foreign to him after what happened with Igogusa, after years of war and service under the leadership of Tsurumi. He knows exactly how easily happiness can be acquired and how easily it can be taken away, by unknown forces and by someone close to him.

An obvious sign of interest would be gratuitous help that Tsukishima offers to the person. When everything falls out of hand, he is right there to catch. Tsukishima does little errands in between taking care of Koito’s whims and bigger ones he saves for later to look at them closer. He genuinely enjoys helping them and seeing how grateful smile lights up their face.

Another one would be small gestures like walking them home after dark or bringing unpretentious little thingies that made Tsukishima think of them. If he goes to the market and notices their favorite candy, he will surely buy it. At times, it gets more serious. For example, if they wanted nice new shoes, Tsukishima will save money up from his sergeant's salary to afford the best pair in the shop.

Letters. So many letters. A soldier's life presents a gift in the form of partings, and in order to somehow compensate frequent  goodbyes and innumerable kilometers between them, Tsukishima puts his heart and soul into letters. They may not be that frequent, and he keeps crossing out words that seem too sweet, but it is the very intimate way to maintain the precious bond.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Local mom-friend that takes care of you when you are suffering the worst hangover and saves your ass from last night’s consequences. Tsukishima puts all the effort to shield his best friend from problems, and if they are inevitable, he has a clear plan of actions how to fix unfixable and repair unrepairable.

Responsibility is another of his distinctive features. When it comes to school or work, he is second to none: Tsukishima is up to help with difficult tasks or take on the role of mentor. He is amazingly good teacher, albeit strict at times, that has the ability to explain the most confusing concepts better than that Indian guy on YouTube.

Is it worth mentioning that he is a devoted friend? It doesn’t matter what happened between him and his friend in the past, Tsukishima always comes back to them. No distance, no time, no other people are able to make him turn around and leave a friend to the mercy of fate.

Probably the friend you think you know well but suddenly it turns out he has more dark secrets than the most deranged madlad from your fried group. Also, you can’t judge him. Only accept. You know if Tsukishima had to do somthing, he had his reasons you are not allowed to question.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yeah, of course, but he hasn’t cuddled anyone in years (young whining Koito that craves reassurance and family warmth doesn’t count) so it may be awkward. It is very likely that he will simply move over, apologize, and wait for the next time when he is more comfortable with all of love dumped on him. Tsukishima doesn’t care about positions and will adapt to the partner’s desires whether they want to spoon him or be kept on his lap. Cuddles are combined with back rubs, massages, head pats, even hair brushing and braiding if they are not afraid of tangles.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Both wants to and is afraid of settling down by himself, left alone with his loved one. Over the years spent in the army, he lost the sense of life’s fullness, and now Tsukishima drifts freely without a specific direction. Military is where he belongs to, it gives him purpose and reason to exist, and as time passed, he forgot how to live outside the barracks. Gentle persuasion would be the best option to assure Tsukishima in his ability of living normal life. Maybe, owning a small house overlooking rocky shore and sparkling ocean isn’t a bad idea, he just isn’t ready to accept it. Both great in cooking and cleaning, prefers to do the latter.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He is visibly uncomfortable when confronted about working late and postponing previously such long-awaited dates. Tsukishima is lost for words since he can find none that could describe how sorry he is. Inner guilt forced him to defer this moment until the last minute: breaking-up right before another trip (the further the better) will make it impossible to crawl back to them when loneliness overtakes him again. Overthinks a lot. Nevertheless, Tsukishima finally speaks out in an even calm voice, as if he is reporting to his superiors, apologizes, and bows low. So low that chances of meeting their surprised gaze drop to zero. He quickly retreats without giving them the opportunity to say anything in return. Drinks more than usual during the trip, makes Koito nervous with unfriendly passive-aggressive aura he carries for weeks.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

This is the part where Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up starts playing because this is the man who fits all of the chorus lines perfectly. Tsukishima grows attached to the loved one fast and after this he is physically unable to think romantically of anyone else. Igogusa’s memory is another proof of his deep, borderline painful commitment. One year or year and a half is enough time for Tsukishima to start looking at municipal government office with certain interest. He takes marriage very seriously though, he dates for it, not for entertainment.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is what a soldier is trained to be (so not so gentle in physical plane) but you don’t have to dig deep to see Tsukishima’s hidden soft core. In everyday life, he's an absolute sweetheart. All he really wants in a relationship is to love and be loved, that’s all. Tsukishima doesn't even have a lurking desire, intrusive thoughts of messing with the feelings unlike some individuals. Soft, soft, soft, and he doesn’t deny it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

It feels like a child’s hug: tight and unhesitant, with his hands wrapped around person’s waist and face buried in their neck. Light blush covers Tsukishima’s cheeks and he can’t stop smiling. If his partner is smaller than he is, Tsukishima will pick them up, and if they are taller he will try to hug them as if to almost hide in their arms. Picking him up will result in embarrassed exclamations but Tsukishima actually enjoys their attention.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

One year is the limit. Less time than 6 months feels a little bit rushed to him and more than one year seems like an unnecessary delay. Tsukishima is expectedly sincere in his confession; he doesn’t hold back and wriggle because of how confident he is in his feelings. It is not a long rehearsed monologue but a stream of consciousness, full of confessions how he likes their shining eyes, how their clumsiness makes his day a little brighter, how their whole character amazes him from day to day. The only thing that can possibly overwhelm Tsukishima is the overthinking of their possible negative reaction. One of his biggest fears is to appear too persistent with the confession and scare them away so he puts a lot of thought in choosing the right time and the right place.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Obviously expects his partner to reject any cheeky suitor since he understands that their natural beauty is hard to resist. If they choose to accept stranger’s attentions, Tsukishima feels insulted and betrayed. Trust is a key factor in the relationship so such irresponsible attitude towards the loyalty huts him deeply and rises suspicion of oncoming break-up. Also, being in limbo and asking himself whether they want to be with him or not takes a toll on Tsukishima’s psyche. He becomes more withdrawn and taciturn and spends more time busy at work with trying to distract himself from intrusive thoughts.

If his partner decides to go around and flirt, Tsukishima will be overtaken with anger. He is furious. The glass in his hand sonorously cracks under the pressure while he watches them ungodly teasing unsuspecting men. He doesn’t start a fight or scream at his loved one and keeps everything inside. It is enough for him to witness such behavior two times to leave them without long explanations and quarrels.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

A bit inept and greedy. Tsukishima tends to defer the kiss until his partner is ready to nicely ask him for one but after that he is completely in for a ride. The last time he kissed anyone is unknown-how-many-years-ago so it is natural for Tsukishima to be a little bit sloppy and eager. Lip kisses are golden classic and fits his character perfectly. It takes a good push to shift things in more intimate direction though. The most efficient way to do it is to play on Tsukishima's weaknesses: the back of his neck as well as earlobes and straight line down the spine. A few gentle touches and hardened composed soldier melts down like an ice on the sun.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you want to calm down a crying baby just give it to Tsukishima. It seems like kids feel sympathy when looking at his tired face and try to cause little trouble so as not to disappoint him even more. Smart children clearly amuse him, and Tsukishima strongly encourages their desire for knowledge, their curiosity and ambitions. Every now and then sudden thoughts about starting his own family pop up in his head but Tsukishima is kind of indecisive. Right now he is not ready to take on such responsibility, but in the future, dream of starting a big family could become a reality.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

It is impossible to catch Tsukishima in the morning during work week and it still isn’t that easy on the weekend. Insomnia keeps him up at nights so his day can start a long before his partner opens their eyes. On such nights, he goes for a lonely walk around the block and, on his return, prepares a light breakfast for two. There are also rare moments when Tsukishima falls asleep right before first sunbeam reaches earth. Those are the days when he sleeps in and refuses to get up from the bed, trapping his loved one in tight cuddle. Nuzzling into their neck, Tsukishima mutters that he needs five more minutes and he will definitely let go but five minutes turn into half of hour, then hour, and he never fulfills the promise.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

A great lover of a quiet pastime he is, Tsukishima likes to spend evenings playing intellectual games like shogi and reading whatever comes to hand. One of his favorite activities is resting his head on the partner’s knees and listening to them reading aloud haikus or other classic Japanese works. On warm summer nights, Tsukishima likes to go to the river or lake for skinny dipping since most onsens are separated by gender. Even if there is one that is not, he would still prefer more secluded place where there is no reason to worry about onlookers. If his partner wants to something more active and social, they will have to choose something not too overwhelming. Small friend gatherings are okay but huge parties drain the rest of the life from him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Here is the thing: to pull personal information out of Tsukishima you have to know what to ask. You can’t say “Tell me how you got into army” and expect a little frank story, no. It would take a whole “It seems you and Lieutenant Tsurumi share some story” or something even more shifty to make him open up about this topic. It doesn’t mean that he is trying to hide something on purpose, but it definitely means he never had anyone to trust. Any claims that he is too secretive offend Tsukishima too.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Utter unshakable calmness in the middle of 7th Division craziness, either way because he has seen too much shit already or because he has no active neurons to react to it (insomnia, your know?). As a person who puts up with brain-juice leaking leader, spoiled naive brat in the dawn of youthful maximalism, mentally unstable fan boy, and mutilated lack-all on the verge of breakdown, he won’t even pay attention to small inconveniences. In quarrels, Tsukishima always appeals to rationality and perfectly avoids any escalation of the conflict. You have to ruin his life for him to snap, and when he does, someone’s neck will snap too.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Pays attention to them whenever around but forgets most of the stuff easily. Tsukishima only remembers one or two specific details that he can use practically in the future, like what their allergies are or what they want for the birthday. For the rest he has a small personal page in the notebook where he writes down little things that definitely will not stay in his memory for a long time. His writing comes in the code of abbreviations and numbers to make sure nobody pries into his personal life.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Used to be the one responsible in the group, he would probably remember moments where he was the one that had to be cared for. For once Tsukishima came down with a high fever and unbearable weakness, and it was a moment when his loved one jumped into merciless care-mode. He was put into bed with three pillows, teacup waiting for him on the nightstand, and even the most determined statements that he needed to finish some things have been met with indisputable refusal. They spun around him bringing medicine, food, and water whole day so Tsukishima couldn’t stop blaming himself for the helplessness. At the same time, his feelings of gratitude and love intensified with every thoughtful gesture so by the end of unfortunate leave Tsukishima almost regretted returning to his usual hectic life.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Previous experiences with both romantic relationship and role of sergeant-nanny taught Tsukishima one thing: danger is always there, even if it is not visible to the naked eye. A passerby can hide a loaded gun under his clothes, so there is not point to talk about hired killers, invisible diseases, natural disasters etc. Based on the above it is natural for Tsukishima be on the alert. He wants to know where his partner is going and with whom, warns them about his gut feeling if he has one, and, of course, intervenes at the sight of real danger without any second thought. Like this man would give up his life for a person who deserves it. Not at any point in time, Tsukishima expects his partner to protect him but if it happens, he will be extremely mad at them and himself too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Tsukishima has a low social battery for the most of the time so he has to manage energy according to importance of the affairs. There is always a little bit more saved for his loved one, but you can’t really tell that he puts all of the effort into relationship. If work affairs did not suck the remnants of happiness from him, Tsukishima may stop and get a nice box of sweets or fruits. For special dates like their Birthday or anniversary, he saves money for a worthwhile present: for a female lover he would probably go for a beautiful silk tenga obi with celebratory motives or handmade jewelry box, and for male lover he would choose chopsticks with personalized engraving or exquisite lacquerware. Performs household chores well, although sometimes he has to be reminded about their existence.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Although Tsukishima is a stronghold of common sense, - he always keeps everything to himself, puts on a poker face, - once person gets on his nerves, they will see the worst side of him. Thanks to the famous reliability, Tsukishima learns where person’s weak spots are fast and he can easily hit them where it hurts with bold spiteful words.

Puts work over relationships. Setting to serve the homeland faithfully and unquestioningly rooted deep in his mind and now it is impossible to re-educate this shabby sergeant. Even in serious relationship, Tsukishima remembers about his duty as a soldier and as a son of Japan so he takes a lot of additional paperwork home.

As someone who used to be ordered around, Tsukishima still needs a guidance in the relationship. It takes a lot of thinking and weighing the pros and cons for him to make a decision but the partner’s opinion will be crucial nevertheless. In critical situations, he is perfectly oriented, but in a steady life? Not so much.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Cares enough to wash, dry, and iron his own uniform and brush up muddy toecaps of own boots. Tsukishima tries to blend in with surrounding, not to pop up, so he keeps his style in muted neutral colors (that applies to both clothes and shoes) and prefers strict uniform to anything else. In his view, moderation is the sister of style so the only thing that can make him pull off fancy apparel would be direct order from the First Lieutenant Tsurumi. Indifferent to how people perceive his physical appearance as well.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If his partner decides it is a time to part the ways, he acts maturely, thanks them for the great moments that they shared and everything they achieved together. Even though Tsukishima is hurting, he keeps bitter reproaches to himself, knowing that lashing out won’t do anything good. It is not his style anyway. Few weeks need to pass by before the hurricane of emotions settles down and their image ceases to be associated with a romantic relationship. Instead, Tsukishima faces them again with a proposal to start everything from scratch. Leave everything behind and become friends. Just friends. No hard feelings. Honestly, being close to them is everything he asks for. If they decline, Tsukishima won’t bother them again, but if they agree, he won’t ever leave their side.

Their death is a punch to the gut. It is like Igogusa’s disappearing all over again, but more painful, more deliberate, more distinct. To say that he is heartbroken is to say nothing at all: division soldiers notice how gloomy their sergeant has become, they feel uneasy under his sharp look. It feels like one wrong word and he will snap. Now Tsukishima’s nihilism turns into total indifference to existence: he puts himself in danger just to see how long he can last.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Another one who has a great singing voice. He never ever sings in barracks or anywhere near his comrades but Tsukishima’s voice is charming: he has a sweet soothing bass-baritone that sounds the best in lullabies or ballads. Even though his partner may never hear a proper serenade, they may catch him quietly singing to their child instead of reading old fairytales.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Tsukishima can tolerate A LOT and turns blind eye to person’s bad habits for the sake of avoiding unnecessary stress. Therefore, there isn’t much that irritates him and even less that can drive him on the walls.

Grubbiness is one of the habits that Tsukishima cannot ignore. Clothes scattered around the room, unwashed dishes, and heaps of unnecessary junk get on his nerves but he keeps composure and never complains.

Loud noises, including chewing, smacking, munching, are annoying too but Koito’s constant monkey screeching desensitized him to the degree when Tsukishima takes a deep breath, prays to gods not to go apeshit, and goes on with his day.

Oh, he also hates summer. Hot temperatures force Tsukishima to soak in the bath three times more often than in winter or any other season.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Those bags under his eyes are Gucci Yoshida. Well, okay, Yoshida was established a little bit later but this is not so important. Tsukishima suffers from insomnia for who knows how long, and no doctor can help him. On sleepless nights, he just sits by the window and reads in the faint candlelight, still cherishing the hope of falling asleep in the morning. After moving in with his loved one, nothing really changed beside Tsukishima changing his habitual reading spot from armchair by the window to a more secluded place in another room. He doesn’t want to wake them up by accident.

In general, Tsukishima sleeps around 3-5 hours per day with occasional awakenings during the night. His sleep is shallow and filled with disturbing dreams in which shapeless shadows haunt him, driving him south of Mukden, where many of the Japanese brethren found eternal peace.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #hajime tsukishima #tsukishima hajime #tosikowrites

[trilliastra]

 [Here, have a fluffy Xicheng fic where Jiang Cheng is loved and treasured by everyone.]

 -

Yu Da lost his sight almost forty years ago, trying to protect his Sect from rogue cultivators. He was deemed, then, a useless fighter, but his brain still worked well enough so he was assigned as Madam Yu's adviser, her only ally, as she moved to Lotus Pier. He survived the massacre, helped hide the children in the forest, trusting his ears and his Golden Core to keep them from harm until Jiang Cheng found him and the children months later as he reclaimed his Sect, the group weak and starving, but alive nonetheless.

 He was the first cultivator to recognize Jiang Cheng as a Leader, the one who bowed to him, thanked him for coming back for them and not giving up on his people. Yu Da was there on the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign, giving orders when Jiang Cheng was locked in his room, grieving his sister's death and his brother's fall, shielding Jiang Cheng from the stares and the gossip.

 Jiang Cheng held Yu Da in the highest respect and Yu Da, in return, was fiercely protective of his Sect Leader. Just like, Lan Xichen would come to realize, the rest of the Jiang Sect.

  -

 “Master Yu,” Lan Xichen bows deeply. Despite being in the company of a Sect Leader, the man does not stand up, only nods in return, polite, and gestures to the chair on his left. Lan Xichen understands the message clearly, this is his Yu Da’s house, his Sect, and Lan Xichen is merely a guest and will be continue to be treated as such until he proves his worth.

 Lan Xichen smiles, “Master Yu,” he repeats, “I’d like to marry Jiang Cheng.” He announces, makes sure not to word it as a question. He’s not asking permission, Jiang Cheng does not need to be shielded from the world, but he should be treated with respect, care and love.

 Master Yu arches an eyebrow, takes a sip of his tea and hums quietly. “He’s a special man.”

 “Yes.” Lan Xichen agrees immediately. He did not notice it at first, did not want to notice. He admits Wangji’s distaste for the man helped cloud his judgement, but he’s seeing clearly now. “Yes, he is.”

 “He’s strong, opinionated and easy to anger.” The man keeps saying.

 Lan Xichen nods. “He has flaws. But he also has virtues.” His kindness, his spirit, his dedication. “I admire his strength.” Lan Xichen confesses. It was one of the first things he noticed, after what happened at the Temple. He was hurt, both physically and mentally, but he still held his ground, kept doing his work because he knew that his Sect had no one else, that his people depended on him, while Lan Xichen went on Seclusion, left his brother and his uncle to do his job.

 He had never realized how privileged he was, and how lonely Jiang Cheng must have felt during those long years, without parents, siblings or friends.

 If only Lan Xichen could turn back time, if only he could have done his job better.

 “Guilt is not a good enough reason for a marriage.” Master Yu says, making Lan Xichen flinch. “Sect Leader Jiang, my boy,” he stresses, “deserves love and not pity.”

 “I would never.” Lan Xichen promises. He thought about it so much, meditated, wondered and cried, for months when he first realized his feelings.

 He was wrong once, he did not wish to repeat his mistakes, but Jiang Cheng – oh how could Lan Xichen not fall in love with a man so selfless, who would give up everything for those he loves, who did give up plenty for his brother, for his nephew, for his father.

 An honest man, a brave leader, a lonely boy.

 Master Yu does not say anything else, only waits patiently, for Lan Xichen to sort out his words. “I wish to make him happy.” Lan Xichen confesses. “To take care of him, to share his burdens. And to see him smile.” Jiang Cheng’s smiles are usually reserved for Jin Ling, but Lan Xichen is confident on his ability to make him laugh. He’s been doing it for the past few months.

 “I hope, Sect Leader Lan, that you do make him happy.” Master Yu says, and Lan Xichen understands it as the threat it is. “And I hope he makes you happy as well.” He offers, at last, before standing up and shaking off the disciple trying to help him. “May your marriage be blessed.”

 “Thank you.” Lan Xichen stands up as well, watches him move to greet the children playing in the yard. As he tries to follow him outside, Lan Xichen is stopped by a group of disciples, not one of them trying to hide their glares.

 “We have a message from Sect Leader Jin,” one of them says.

 “He respects you tremendously,” another offers, “but he will not tolerate seeing Sect Leader Jiang hurt. Accidentally or otherwise.”

 Lan Xichen swallows heavily, equal parts impressed and intimidated. Jin Ling might have forgiven him for his part on Jin Guangyao’s death, but he will surely not forget. And when it comes to Jiang Cheng, the man who raised him and who loves him fiercely, Lan Xichen does not doubt Jin Ling would raise hell.

 The disciples give him one last warning look before joining Master Yu outside and Lan Xichen feels his heart swell with affection for these people. Jiang Cheng really has no idea how much he’s loved and it breaks his heart to think about that.

 He must change this immediately.

 -

 “Where have you been?” Jiang Cheng asks, looking up from his papers when Lan Xichen joins him in his office.

 Lan Xichen doesn’t answer immediately, takes his time admiring the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes when Lan Xichen smiles, still not used to being watched tenderly.

 When he was in seclusion, the first time Jiang Cheng visited him was awkward. Lan Xichen was angry, hurt, had spent countless nights awake, thinking about his mistakes and his bad decisions so the last person he needed to see was Jiang Cheng – the man who nearly lost everything because of Jin Guangyao.

“I do not blame you.” It was the first thing Jiang Cheng had said. “And I don’t hate you any more than I hated Wei Wuxian.” Lan Xichen had flinched, lowering his gaze as the other man stood in front of him, fierce stare, honest words. “You might have been naïve, but he tricked all of us. There’s no use thinking about the past and the things you could have done, should have seen. You can’t go back, you can only move forward and hope not to make the same mistakes again.” Lan Xichen remembers feeling incredibly pathetic, crying in front of a man who had stayed strong through the hardships of his life, who had every reason to be angry and still willingly tried to help others. “If you close yourself now, you will miss on the good things. Like watching your Sect grow, your people smile, and your brother getting married.” Jiang Cheng had pointed out, a hint of regret on his voice. Lan Xichen watched him go, a new-found admiration for the man.

 One week later he was back to being Sect Leader Lan to his people. Two months after that, he became Lan Huan to Jiang Cheng. And soon, hopefully, he will be Jiang Cheng’s husband.

 The thought makes him smile, excited. “Wanyin,” he says, reaching out for Jiang Cheng’s hands. The man lets himself be pulled into a hug, not before making a questioning noise, “I love you.”

 “I know.” Jiang Cheng answers, confused. “I love you, too.” He whispers. It’s getting easier for him to say the words, Lan Xichen notices.

 “I love you so much.” Lan Xichen keeps saying, pulling back to look him in the eye. He kisses him slowly, tenderly and smiles. “And I want to marry you.”

 He watches Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, surprised, and perhaps, confused? “You – Lan Huan –”

 “I do.” Lan Xichen interrupts. “I would not have gone to meet Master Yu Da if I didn’t.”

 “You did not.” Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes. “You told him – you –”

 “Yes, I did.” Lan Xichen answers, cheerfully, not letting go of Jiang Cheng’s hands. “He threatened me, and so did Jin Ling, and a couple of disciples as well.”

 Jiang Cheng blushes, looks away. “I should have words with them –”

 “Don’t.” Lan Xichen laughs, pressing a kiss on each of Jiang Cheng’s hands. “They are looking out for you.”

 “You are a Sect Leader.” Jiang Cheng insists. He’s still not looking at him and Lan Xichen feels like his heart is about to leave his body, it’s beating so fast.

 “Wanyin,” he calls, patiently, always patient. If Jiang Cheng is not ready, he will wait. If Jiang Cheng refuses, he will leave. But if Jiang Cheng is willing – “my love –”

 “I am not good enough for you.” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Xichen is about to argue with him because that could not be more untrue, when Jiang Cheng turns to look at him, determined. “But if you think I am, if you really want to marry me, then – then I believe you.” He nods.

 Lan Xichen smiles, circles his arms around Jiang Cheng’s waist. “Would that make you as happy as it would make me?”

 “Yes.” Jiang Cheng answers, immediately. “Nothing would make me happier.”

 Oh, oh, Lan Xichen laughs, openly. “Then I shall be your husband.”

 “And I shall be yours.” Jiang Cheng adds, smiling as well.

 And they will be happy.

#xicheng #jiang cheng x lan xichen #the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #my fic

[veliseraptor]

I can't remember if anyone has actually asked you this. I apologise beforehand if you're repeating yourself. What are your three favourite scenes in The Untamed and why?

(Love how this took so long, mostly because I was waiting to get through all the listed moments in my rewatch. Anyway! It’s here now!)

Oh, fuck. 

Okay, I couldn’t keep it to three. I tried! I did! But I couldn’t. So here is a list of just general favorite scenes with the three scratched off. I realized belatedly that most of these are just painful because I love pain I guess??? but yeah that’s just who I am and I think I have to accept that.

Under a read more because Jesus this got long.

1. The entire scene at Nightless City culminating in Wei Wuxian’s death. Like, okay, honestly, if I could expand this into basically everything between Jin Zixuan’s death and Wei Wuxian’s, I’d do that, but that feels like too much even though in my head it is all sort of...one contiguous marathon of pain. But god!!! I have a whole thing for...characters hitting their breaking point, for breaking points in general, for seeing a character I love just...crack open, and that’s what happens here.

Like. Wei Wuxian’s been cracking for a while, and there’s a number of breaking points that kind of build on each other, but this is, obviously, where the real snap happens.

And on a narrative level, too, there’s the thing that...this is the point that we as the audience have been spiraling toward since first seeing the beginning of episode one. This is where the entire long stretch of flashback has been pointing - here’s where it culminates, where it falls into place, where everything circles back to where the show started and now you know exactly how it got there. 

Also I just. Love to suffer, and this entire scene is one whole long stretch of suffering. 

2. The golden core reveal. Oh man, I was waiting for this conversation for, like. Ever. I knew it was coming and I knew it was going to have to happen and I just kept being like. When will it be. When will it be and then it happened and god it was beautiful. Everything about this whole scene was just tailor made to hurt me and make me love it, from the confrontation in the ancestral shrine right down to when Jiang Cheng bolts in a panic. 

I hurt for everyone here. Wen Ning who has hit the end of his rope and is just fed up with everything. Jiang Cheng whose world is getting turned upside down and inside out and a whole lot of things falling into place all at once, his self-conception wrecked and his understanding of Wei Wuxian both opened and destroyed. Lan Wangji who is understanding what he missed and, I think, beating himself up about having missed it, and also the fresh understanding of just how ready Wei Wuxian is to throw himself under a bus for the people he loves. Wei Wuxian who doesn’t know any of this is happening but has just collapsed after running on fumes basically since resurrecting and is going to find out later that the biggest secret he’s been keeping and planned to keep for the rest of his life is now out. 

It’s just. Lord. It’s all so painful and it’s all so good, the payoff is so good, and especial mention here of Wen Ning’s done with your shit and I’m not taking it anymore face as he brandishes Suibian at Jiang Cheng not as a weapon, exactly, but a little bit.

(He doesn’t bite but he can hurt you in other ways!)

Anyway, this isn’t actually saying anything coherent, really, except just a lot of “ahhhhh” screaming about this scene and everything in it and everyone suffering in it and just. What a moment. 

3. The excruciating conversation between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian in episode 48. Oh my god. Ohhhh my god. Okay, so, I’m always going to be a sucker for extremely painful and difficult sibling confrontations where everyone is spilling their feelings everywhere and it’s just a lot, and this was like. I remember on my first watch when this happened and I was like. Holy shit. This. This was what I needed. This!!!! 

And then no real resolution after, orz. But that’s what fanfiction is for. And there’s glimpses of the possibility, for sure, I Believe.

But anyway! And on rewatch this conversation just gets better and also more painful because of the ways that while it is finally a conversation that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have sort of needed to have for, like, ever, it’s also one that rips open a lot of old wounds and it is also one that involves a painful amount of talking past each other. 

There’s a long meta post somewhere (sorry! I never know how to find the meta I’m looking for when I want it and I’m lazy right now!) about how what Jiang Cheng needs to hear is that Wei Wuxian loves and cares about him, and what he does hear is that Wei Wuxian is, once again, cutting himself off, that it was all always about debts and obligations and nothing more. And what Wei Wuxian is trying to do is release Jiang Cheng from being tied to him by those debts and obligations, to give him freedom, with I think the idea of creating a clean slate that’s not tainted by everything that went wrong before. He thinks Jiang Cheng needs to be released, but what Jiang Cheng needs is to be held.

(Both of them do! Both of them need that! Both of them need to feel loved and cherished and these things also specifically by each other!)

And I just. I just cry a lot.

But it is also beautiful, in the way that it captures so much about their relationship and the blood and hurt and tenderness and love all tied excruciatingly together, the ways that they hurt and have hurt each other, the ways they push and pull, all of Jiang Cheng’s anger and hurt spilling out everywhere in a way that I think has been building for 16 years. It’s not closure, but it is a catharsis. 

And for Wei Wuxian - I think it has to be, on some level, a relief. Even as it’s painful, even as it is exactly what he never wanted to happen, the secret is out now and he doesn’t have to hold onto it anymore. They are both - in his eyes - free. 

It’s just...a wrenching conversation that hits, like, sixty of my buttons at once and gives me a whole lot of emotions. 

4. asldkajsldfkj the flashback to Xiao Xingchen’s suicide in episode 39 and what comes after, just go ahead and kill me now. Like okay it’s probably obvious by now that I live in this hole called “Yi City, my Xue Yang feelings, and my XueXiao feelings,” and during this liveblog I specifically spilled several posts and screenshots worth of them, but god!!!! it’s just so much. Like, the entire Yi City arc is messy and painful as hell, it’s just like being put through an emotional wringer where I hurt for everyone in it, but this is the part that is especially excruciating because everyone in this emotional climax is suffering so much. 

And, like. We knew where this would end. We knew Xiao Xingchen died, and a-Qing was just killed, and at this point Xue Yang is dying. No one is getting out of this alive - but we haven’t seen yet exactly how things closed out. And the answer is “badly. it’s badly.” 

Both of these people in the very bad breakup scene are hurting. Xiao Xingchen is in agony, his life falling apart in his hands - everything he thought he knew has been a lie, he’s been tricked, played for a fool. And the hammer blows keep coming. It’s not enough that it’s Xue Yang, that Xue Yang has been fucking with him (as far as he knows), lying to him, for three years. It’s what Xue Yang reveals about what he’s done. And then it’s what Xue Yang reveals about what he’s done to Song Lan.

And on the other end - Xue Yang’s weird fake domestic life that he’s gotten attached to, Xiao Xingchen who he’s come to care about - it’s imploding, irrevocably, in front of his face. And first he tries to explain himself, sort of, but he must know it’s not going to work; and then he goes back to what he does best and lashes out. You’re going to hurt me? I’ll hurt you fifty times as much.

I think he expects a fight. Or maybe, at most, he expects Xiao Xingchen to break down, and maybe he has some vague idea that then he can say see, this is what the world is really like, now you get it and rebuild him in some kind of Xue Yang-esque image (though I don’t think he really thinks that’ll happen). He doesn’t expect Xiao Xingchen to kill himself. He doesn’t expect Xiao Xingchen to die.

And then he doesn’t expect to not be able to get him back.

It’s just. This whole arc is people destroying each other and themselves body and soul, and this is the climax of it, the breaking point. And it hurts, real bad.

And as we have established! I love to suffer.

5. Drunk Lan Wangji, take two. All of these are like. “Pain! Pain! Pain!” and here we are with some goofy antics instead. I mean, the intro to drunk!Wangji is sad in the way that it has to do with what happened to Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen (and Lan Wangji’s always feelings about those parallels ouch), but then...I mean, drunk!Wangji is just generally adorable, but here he is especially adorable. 

Chicken theft! Vandalism! Trespassing! His adorable little smile when Wei Wuxian asks if he likes rabbits and he’s like. Yeah. :) :)

And then we close out with more emotions, of course. Because it’s not The Untamed without a little bit of pain thrown in there. 

“I have regret,” Lan Wangji says, a confession of fault, and of course Wei Wuxian can’t receive it, or won’t - and Lan Wangji reacts to his attempt at absolution by basically doing his usual “I don’t want to talk about this” routine of just bluntly changing the subject (in this case “going to bed now goodnight.”).

Also the entire bit where he goes from hopelessly drunk to fighting off an opponent and then back to hopelessly drunk, like. Even drunk!Wangji can and will kick your ass. 

And all of Wei Wuxian just like. Basically trip babysitting him? Gently trying to herd him around? The gentleness and fondness of it all?

Good. All good.

6. Qiongqi Path, take one. Emotional mauling! Terrifying evil flute Wei Wuxian! Dramatic face-off between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji! The beginning of Lan Wangji’s moral crisis! (Or, okay, not the beginning but this is definitely a major breaking point for his worldview, I think, and where his questioning really, truly begins.) 

It’s just...a lot of good. Everything with Wen Qing searching for Wen Ning’s body hurts so bad. Wei Wuxian coming stalking back into the camp with vengeance on the brain is as gloriously sexy as that vibe always is on him. And the confrontation between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian? oh man. 

Juicy. And also. Ouch. 

(And am I a sucker for everything about ‘former allies ending up on opposite sides and one of them saying something along the lines of ‘if I’m going to die then I’d rather it was you who killed me’ yes I sure am! I didn’t cry nearly as much on my third watch but this scene is another one of my points that I think of when I think of bits in The Untamed that make me cry.

And as we’ve established already, I just love to cry.

7. God like. All of episode 19? Is that cheating? But it’s all so good! We have suffering Wei Wuxian! Mouthing off while being tortured! The entire sequence of him grabbing the sword and that moment of choice where his life turns as he answers that question (do you want revenge?) with a resounding yes? 

Lan Wangji absolutely fucking up some Wens on a desperate quest for Wei Wuxian? Teaming up with Jiang Cheng? (Do I still want to see more of that team up in that time? Yes please!!) SPOOKY FUCKING FLUTE MUSIC STARTING SIGNALING EXTREMELY OMINOUS THINGS TO COME?

Anyway it’s all very “fuck yeah, this is all quite tailored to me and my interests, thank you.”

8. Jiang Yanli coming for Jin Zixun’s life. I feel like I should just link to this analysis of this scene that really breaks it all down in detail? But god so satisfying. I mean, Jin Zixun is truly one of the most hateable characters in this show, in my opinion, and seeing Jiang Yanli step up and politely and meticulously demolish him is like. So satisfying. 

The face of a woman about to murder someone. But with words.

I really wish we could’ve seen more of this Jiang Yanli, because before this point she’s all softness and gentleness and while that’s very true of her - this part of her is also there, always, and I’d love to have seen more of it.

But like. Getting it here? Stunning. Showstopping. Love it.

9. Wei Wuxian wrecks a party, but, like, sexily. I mean, he wrecks a few parties, but I’m thinking specifically of the one in episode 26 prior to Qiongqi Path, take one. Everything about that whole scene is gold top to bottom, but what really gets me going is everything from the dramatic entrance (I’m tempted to make a list of Wei Wuxian’s best dramatic entrances) onward to “sexy menacing countdown.” It’s just all so...I mean, I’ve talked about how much I love furiously angry and on the verge of losing it Wei Wuxian, and this is some prime that material. 

(Pictured: the sexiest way anyone has ever said the word ‘two.’)

And just! The tension of it all, how it builds and builds and builds and even when it finally releases when Zixun caves there’s still all this lingering “oh fuck! that’s bad!” dread...it’s just very good. 

And I also love it as one of those key plot turning moments where it’s like. This isn’t the irrevocable break, but it’s a big one as far as ‘no going back from this.’

And like. Not just Wei Wuxian, everyone else in this scene is excellent too. Just. Mm. Good.

10. Wei Wuxian is sexy when he’s mean and that’s just the truth. Which is to say: the very bad breakup scene between him and Lan Wangji in episode 20. I’ve read two different analyses of this scene, both brilliant (by @hunxi-guilai here, and @neuxue here), and I feel like I can’t add much to that other than to reiterate that Wei Wuxian is very sexy when he’s mean, and the layers of everything going on in this scene are. Ugh!!! So good.

(I mean, also everything that comes before, I have put myself down firmly in camp “Wei Wuxian is also sexy when he murders people, you go Wei Ying, murder people as much as you want, it’s hot.” And the hug with Jiang Cheng! (THAT HUG. IT IS SUCH A HUG.))

But the confrontation between him and Lan Wangji in particular! it is so fuckin good. Honestly just read the linked analyses, I’ve got nothing I can say better that’s not in there, just a lot of “ahhhhhhh” about it all.

BONUS MENTIONS TO: basically every time Wei Wuxian Yiling Laozus, “stay and die with me.” 

#anonymous #conversating #fucking FINALLY #no idea how coherent this is but well #the sad queer cultivators show #the untamed #i am SURE i've forgotten things here #lise does meta #i mean the end of episode 50 is also prime in a lot of ways #IF I LET MYSELF KEEP GOING I'LL GO TOTALLY WILD THOUGH #love how many of these are just 'i like it when my faves suffer'

[miss-choco-chips]

Worshiping at your altar

“He confesses how long he’s looked

for a place to worship

and, oh, you put him on his knees.”

PROFANE by Ashe Vernon

A Paladin and an artificer fall in love.

Or- how Langa learns that worship comes in more than one form.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30430242

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

One of his earliest memories is this:

He sits by his father’s feet. They are in their living room, in his childhood home back in Canada. There’s a fire crackling behind him, the warmth of the flames licking his back even from the distance. His mother’s steps could be heard in the kitchen, but he can barely focus on that, utterly entranced by Dad’s stories, by the hand softly combing his hair back. He feels safe, comfortable and probably the most at peace he’s ever been. 

“A lot of people are going to get hurt tomorrow. All we can do is stand in the way of that and say, 'Not them. Me. If you need to hurt someone, hurt me'”, Dad reads. Langa’s tired eyes look up, eyes tracing the golden letters on the spine of his father’s favorite book, the tale of  ‘How the Paladin Got His Scar’. “Because the alternative is to look at someone else, someone weaker and more vulnerable, and tell them that you want them to be hurt instead of you.”

He squirms a bit in place, and Dad waits, just like every time they reach this part. He’s heard this story hundreds of times, could probably recite it himself from memory alone, but this passage is one that never fails to make him feel off. Weird, uncomfortable. As if he’s failing in some way, because…

“I don’t get it”, he says, like clockwork. Dad’s stopped reading, a single finger keeping the page bookmarked, in preparation for Langa’s usual interruption. Back in the kitchen, his mother’s footsteps fade away, as if she, too, is waiting for her son to ask. “Why do I have to hurt in someone else’s place? I don’t like to be in pain...”

As always, Dad smiles. He’s never mad about Langa’s selfishness, but, again, a five year old can’t really be expected to understand self sacrifice like this, no matter his Class. He never stops patting Langa’s head on his lap.

“It’s not about our pain. It’s about others’ joy.”

There’s usually where it stops, his curiosity sated, and lets Dad go back to his reading and Mom to her cooking. But Langa remembers something else, a new question bubbling up from him. He was in that age, Mom would say, where children stop taking everything their parents say at face value.

“But I thought us paladins were supposed to only serve a God? Why should we care about other people?”

It sounds awfully mean, he knows, but his father only laughs.

“We are not Clerics, son. As much as divine beings love us, we’re not bound to them. That’s why we have our Vow, remember? We can choose. I wasn’t forced to serve the Snow Deities, I wanted to do it. And I never regretted it.”

Langa’s frustration only grows more.

“But I don’t want to do that! To… to give...me-self…”

“Myself”, he remembers Mom calling softly from the doorway, but never how or when she got there. Only his father’s patience as Langa tried again:

“I don’t want to give myself away like that.”

“That’s because you haven't found your Worship yet, Langa. You’ll know, when you do. Because taking your Vow…”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Moving to Okinawa feels strange, in more than one way. 

For starters, it's weird to adore the Snow Deities with no snow in sight. But, to be completely honest (as he tends to be), he hadn’t felt any real pull in his nightly adoration. Not ever since his father died.

(How could he offer sincere praise to the beings that sent dad to his death?)

Still, he kept up with it. As a Paladin with no Vow, he’s taken to adoring the Snow Deities the same way a chronic smoker would use an e-cig.  Not the same, not nearly as invested, but it scratches the itch he can feel building inside him (his divinity begging for release, for reverence, for him to fall to the ground in awe) just well enough that he doesn’t go insane. It’ll be different, once he’s worshipping for real, his mom tells him. He’s not overly enthusiastic about the idea.

Something else that’s different is the quests. Official ones are offered in schools or extracurricular centers, just like back home, but he can’t even begin to imagine himself fighting his way through forests instead of frozen mountaintops. And just what creatures would he even be fighting? Snow Wassets, Kamaitachis, Wendigos… They were all born from ice, and darkness, and cold. Not exactly your native Okinawan monster.

He sighs, head resting against the car window. Watching the trees fly past as mom drives them to their new place, he starts to feel the itch under his skin again. Moving so far away had helped, the deities’ reach weak against the warmth of this land, but still notable enough to demand attention. 

It’s annoying, painful at times, and the last thing he wants to do after losing his dad- but he closes his eyes, spite burning at his core like acid, and adores.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s laying on the floor- no sword in sight, vulnerable, helpless to this person approaching him at high speed, unrelenting- but the pain never comes.

Opening his eyes, he looks up. And time stops, just like it did every time Langa interrupted his father during story time for a question. The world itself holds its breath, waiting for him to catch up.

And he stares at this boy, suspended above him. He sees his red hair, contrast jarring against blue skies. Sees golden eyes, bright and open and full of a life that seems to be avoiding him.

His senses are telling him- he’s a human. There’s no divinity in him, no godliness.

But his heart beats hard, almost pushing his chest open, and he’s breathing the air this boy left behind when he jumped over him. And he feels a spark catching fire behind his eyes, travelling down to his stomach, and nesting there in a way that suggests ‘I’m in no rush to leave’.

And he thinks, briefly- no one ever told me that Fire Deities liked to skate in Okinawa.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He learns the boy’s Class before his name. He’s an artificer, and he’s called Reki.

He thinks it means something, that he introduces himself like that, but Langa isn’t sure what, because all he can hear is an echo of his voice and the afterglow of the smile he shoots his way.

Reki becomes too much, too fast. He shows Langa his favorite invention, a magic skateboard, and he himself feels instantly charmed by the simple genius he exudes. He’s helpless as he follows Reki to the shop he works on, where he finds himself employed as well before he can even catch his bearings. Something about his divinity being harnessed for potions, and protecting the store. He’s not hearing very faithfully, but it sounds good enough that he nods. Without his weekly quests to the mountains, there’s few other ways for him to earn his own money and help support his mother. Though he can’t deny he’ll miss the thrill of it...

Then Reki takes his hand again, and he solves that problem as well.

The S circuit, an illegal quest spot. A rocky mounting, with its surrounding forest littered with abandoned buildings, chock full of all sorts of creatures to hunt, or other adventurers to spar; not for the money, or the honor, but for fun.

Fun is a weird concept for Langa, these days, but he can’t deny the thrill he feels when he burrows Reki’s sword (it's not like the other boy can use it, with his hand hurt as it is) and forces the man that wanted to bring pain to his new friend to the ground. When he’s standing up, looking down at this Rouge, hearing Reki’s excited screams getting closer and closer until the boy is near enough to jump to Langa’s arms, he thinks… that if this is what Dad felt on his quests, it’s no wonder he gave up his life in one of them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s never met an artificer before, and Reki has never encountered a Paladin either. It's an experience for both of them.

Reki seems determined to make Langa a new sword, one that adapts to the training he received back in Canada but that he can use here, in S. It’s a challenge for him, he says, and Langa doesn’t mind the long hours spent in Reki’s workshop, as the boy tries new materials, different welding techniques and a wide variety of spells, exchanging questions back and forth.

Learning about Reki feels a little like when Dad taught him how to fight, everything new, shiny, a little scary but at the same time so safe. He finds out that his friend still hasn’t decided on a specialty, and that choosing one is in a way a little like a Paladin taking a Vow, and at the same time, nothing at all. They focus on a single path, do their best to become masters of it, but once it's perfected, they are free to pursue a different one. He’s secretly enchanted by the idea- the freedom of it. Or maybe it’s just Reki that makes him feel like that.

“I thought you guys just… fought for good? You know, to save people, end wars, stuff like that?”

Langa lays back, weight resting on his arms as he looks up to the stars . They are outside for a change, as Reki is trying to cast a few attack spells on the sword (as in, writes runes and splashes potions over the blade, occasionally cutting himself on it; Langa longs to take it away from him before he loses a finger), and refuses to do so in the relative fragility of indoors. The night sky is very pretty, the company is good, and he feels too comfortable for someone sitting on the ground.

“That’s what’s told in schools and stories, but reality is different”, he answers, eyes dancing between the stars and Reki’s eyes (just as bright, just as pretty). “‘Good’ and ‘bad’ are very subjective terms. What’s alright in some cultures is a sin in others.”

“One man’s heaven is another man’s hell”, Reki murmurs, stopping his motions as he thinks Langa’s words through. 

Langa nods. “Paladins- we do have a connection to the Gods, in a way. So it’s very common for us to give our Vows to them. But, unlinke Clerics, we’re not irredeemably bound, so there’s more of a choice factor. A Paladin can give their Vow once in their life, and then has to commit to it, but that we can decide who or what to Vow to is our form of freedom.”

Reki looks back at Langa then, sword almost forgotten in his lap. They were sitting quite close, now that he thinks about it, barely enough space between them to fill with a whisper. His entire right side felt scalding hot, like when he was a child back home and sat a little too close to the fireplace.

That heat spreads to the rest of his body when Reki throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s the longest I’ve ever heard you talk, dude!”

Time resumes, the night moves on, Langa walks home. But the warmth never leaves his body.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Reki being an artificer doesn’t stop him from participating in quests and spars. He throws himself into them, headfirst, like he’s desperate to prove something to himself. He only ever seems to take it easy when he takes Langa with him; when he holds his hand as he walks him through the differences and similarities of adventures back home and here. Rattles out information about monsters jumping them in the woods, and statistics about the adventurers they stumble upon. He seems like a never ending fountain of information, and oh is Langa thirsty. 

He doesn't think he’ll ever get tired of hearing Reki speak. And even when he slowly becomes better at it, when the newness of the creatures crawling the forest stops scaring him and he feels comfortable enough to set loose and have fun, he still clutches Reki’s hand in his. And together, they brave whatever the fates throw their way.

It's more fun, that way.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He spends the night over at Reki’s place a lot in the following weeks. They both seemed full of excuses for him to stay, to fall asleep side by side, skin on skin. Reki’s hands, always twitching for his tools to tinker with, slowly stilling, peaceful, when Langa holds them between his.

He doesn’t realize until after many, many nights together like this- that, distracted as he was with his friend, he’d totally forgotten to praise and adore. The itch of murmuring in awe about the Deities has all but vanished from him, and its- it's a freedom he had never known before.

(Reki’s hands are smaller than his, so even when he holds them, folded and sweet, the tips of his fingers meet, like a small roof over Reki’s knuckles.

It looks like he’s praying, and he wonders if that’s why the Snow Deities had left him alone. If it’s because they see these sleeping boys, see the peace in the young Paladin’s resting face, and think- ‘this one is already lost in adoration’.)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

This must be what a role reversal feels like, he thinks. Paladins are supposed to be this- this paragon of goodness, righteousness. 

But Reki is the one that, after Langa had defeated the young Sorcerer in combat, offers a hand and a smile. Even when the kid has thrown nothing but insults his way, Reki still stands straight and proud in front of him when a new enemy appears. Challenges this newcomer to a spar, to protect someone he should not be giving a fuck about.

And when the Warlock crushes him to the ground, his artifacts destroyed and blood painting the arena, he still looks Langa’s way with an apology in his eyes. 

Langa remembers when he was younger, when he wondered how someone would choose pain to protect others from it. He still can’t understand the desire to do so for a complete stranger, but for Reki-

He would brave way worse dangers than an obsessed Warlock for Reki.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He’s drowning- 

He’s drowning for days on end. The flame eating at his flesh from the inside has been burning bright ever since his interrupted combat with Adam, the press of his steel armor- Reki’s armor- against his chest worsening the pain. It fills his lungs, his core- doesn’t let him breath. He didn’t know that it was possible to suffocate in fire.

-but it's not until Reki walks away from him under the pouring rain, that he understands that the pain of drowning is nothing compared to the emptiness of death. That the itch to fight Adam pales in comparison to the all-encompassing desperation of his yearning for Reki.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He holds Reki’s hands under the stars again, and painful fire becomes soft warmth. It takes him back to his childhood, to sitting by his dad’s feet, head on his lap, hearth at his back, mom moving around in the kitchen.

He’s on his knees in front of Reki, but it’s the other boy the one who whispers words of reverence. He’s looking down at Langa, washed in moonlight and surrounded by divinity, and there’s defeat and victory in his face all at once.

He looks like he’s fallen, but he’s happy about it.

Langa is-

“I’ve decided about my specialization”, Reki confesses. His eyes don’t wander, his hands aren’t twitching. He looks the most secure in himself Langa has ever seen him. It fills his chest with a warm sort of pride. “I’ll become a Battle Smith. They are experts at defending others and repairing both materiel and personnel”, he continues, one hand dislodging itself from within the protective cocoon of Langa’s hold to trace the contours of his face. Langa feels it when he finds the thin scar in his cheek, from his latest spar in S. His fingertips tremble a bit as they touch it.

“Why?” he asks, because he knows Reki longs, too, for the thrill of a quest, for the joy of surviving the dangers thrown his way.

“I can always make my own weapons, there’s no need for me to make a specialty out of it”, he shrugs, as if reading Langa’s mind, “so I’m good to participate in quests myself. But if you’re gonna insist on throwing yourself headfirst into unprecedented danger, the least I can do is make sure you’ll be damn well protected against everything you can’t kill on sight.”

All air leaves Langa’s lungs, but at the same time, it’s like he’s never really breathed before this exact moment. He imagines being a worshipped Deity can’t feel all that different.

And he remembers his Dad again, his words when he first told him about Vows. 

‘Taking your Vow isn't subjecting yourself to a leash; it's not about servitude. To Worship is to feel the highest you've ever been, even while down on your knees’

Kneeling before Reki, holding one of his hands between his, feeling the other one caressing his cheek, looking up at his face outlined by the moon... it’s like he has stars at his fingertips and fire in his veins. He’s flying with it, touching the sky but standing straight and firm as well.

He’s never felt this way. He doesn’t want it to ever stop.

So he bends his head down over Reki’s hand, eyes closing in reverence and lips touching rough, calloused skin. And in the silence of the night, the words of his Vow sound as loud as if he’d shouted them.

Reki’s hand is in his hair now, like benediction, and he thinks- If falling is this sweet, it’s no wonder so many angels changed their wings for horns, their clouds for fire. 

It's just divine luck that he’s now sworn to someone who can give him both.

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity fanfiction #renga #kyan reki #hasegawa langa #renga fanfiction #paladin Langa #artificer Reki #hasegawa langa is WHIPPED #soft hasegawa langa #pining hasegawa langa #pining kyan reki