#ask kindheart and blue

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I was wondering if you would be up for writing a fic where the reader just showers Buggy in affection and just takes care of him. He could definitely do with some tlc

When you first shown Buggy any form of affection or love, his natural reaction was to pull away, to flinch, to push you away for the sake of upholding the gimmick he had thrusted onto him by others. He just wasn’t use to someone being genuine, being so kindhearted, patient and filled to the brim with unconditional love and adoration towards him like you have that it made him fearful, for the first time for he finally had something he was so scared to loose.

Buggy knew now that he couldn’t run away from this fight against letting himself drop his guard and fall apart within your arms forever, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that one day he’d have to raise the white flag and admit defeat, little did Buggy know that he’d wave that white flag long ago and had admitted defeat whilst in the comfort of your arms and your sweet honeyed words. You provided Buggy with the safe space to be vulnerable, to be able to be rid of his make up, allow for you to see the beautiful man beneath the flashiness, the gimmicks and the theatrics; He even remembered the words you told him when he first allowed himself to sink deeply into your embrace, which opened his eyes to the route he was leading himself down towards.

‘Just because one person destroyed your ability to put your trust in others doesn’t mean that everyone else is going to do the same.’ You whispered into his ear as your hands ran through his beautiful blue hair with care. ‘The actions of one person isn’t a reflection of others. You can choose to not trust but live to regret to be open with that one special somebody or open up to everybody and blindly hope that they don’t use your kindness to stab you in the back.’

Not that Buggy would ever tell you but you held his glass heart within your hands and instead of smashing it like he originally thought you would, you surprised him by holding it close to your chest; looking down at it adoringly and so full of love that it made Buggy a tad teary eyed, for if someone as beautiful and downright perfect as you could ever love someone as flawed as him without being forced into loving him…then he guessed that he was finally doing something right. Soon enough your arms and being smothered in your kisses and honeyed words had become Buggy’s most favoured place to lay his aching self to rest after a seemingly stressful day, where nothing seemed to go exactly to plan.

‘You look comfortable there? Hard day?’ You asked softly as Buggy grunts as he buries his head into your neck, his arms quickly latching onto your waist tightly. Normally you’d have to be the one who initiated affection, which you still do on most occasions, but you also wanted Buggy to feel comfortable to come seek you out on his own terms rather then force him to. ‘Just cuddle me will ya?’ He said groggily and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his neediness.

‘What’s the magic word?’ You teased, trying so hard to bite back your snickers when Buggy lifted his head from your neck to glare at you softly but before he could say anything, you pressed a quick kiss to his cute nose, rendering him wide eyed and speechless before going in to plant a kiss directly to his lips. ‘Cute.’ You whispered against him, getting off on the expressions you pull out of him from gifting him basic levels of love and affection, before pulling away to look back into his gorgeous eyes that you never went a day without complimenting.

‘I’m not cute.’ Buggy said, his cheeks warm as the arms at your waist tightened their grip. ‘Dogs are cute, cats are cute, but I am not cute. I’m terrifying, people look at me and shit themselves from running away with their tails between there legs. And even then the ones that are stupid enough to stay behind are made examples of, so please tell me again how I’m apparently cute.’ He finished, choosing not to look into those soft, understanding and patient eyes of yours that he oh so loved. ‘You’re always cute to me Buggy,’ you started, raising his head to look directly at you by his chin, allowing your hand to drop back to his waist when you were confident he wouldn’t drop his gaze again.

‘Just like how you’re not only just cute but you’re also handsome, strategic, expressive with the way you talk and how you move your hands whilst you talk, flashy, dramatic, and above all you’re beautiful.’ Between each word you’d press a kiss to some part of his face, ignoring his adorable squeals and squawks of surprise that were music to your ears, not caring that you were smudging his make up and getting it on yourself as you held nothing but pride in your love for your Buggy, for as on rare occasions you would openly express your love towards him but saved a majority of it for behind closed doors; Not as though Buggy was anything but boisterous of his love for you and would shout it to the rooftops for all to hear in a possessive sort of way.

‘Really?’ Buggy asked once the flurry of kisses came to an end, looking at you with bright, hopeful eyes it melted your heart. ‘Yes, of course I do Buggy. How could I not? I’m extremely lucky to have you in my life and I couldn’t be more happier.’ You told him, watching as a goofy smile graced his lips as a chuckle fell out from his lips before Buggy decided to burying his head back into your neck, where he whispered against the skin there. ‘If either one of us is the lucky one, it’s me because you could’ve listened to everyone else and avoid me like the plague but you didn’t and I’m glad you didn’t because without you I wouldn’t know where or who I’d be. So thank you for never giving up on me…I love you.’

#opla x reader #opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #one piece live action #opla #buggy x reader

[arctickat2400]

Jealousy Doesn't Suit You <> Damon Salvatore

Not sure if this is how I wanted this to turn out or not. My writing isn't how it used to be, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyways.

Request: The reader and Damon could be playing hard to get and is too stubborn to admit they both fancy and love each other so one day the reader flirts with a guy knowing that it’ll really make Damon annoyed and he gets all jealous. But maybe one night Damon cooks the reader a romantic dinner and tells her he’s been in love with her since the first time they locked eyes on each other.

~ ~ ~ ~

When Damon wants something, he gets it. However, with you, it’s easier said than done. He was so in love with you, but that was the last thing he would admit to you, let alone anyone else. 

This week had been a disaster. Your constant attempts at getting Damon’s attention have all failed miserably. You would never admit to liking him. Okay, that was an understatement. You had a fiery passion for this man, but that’s not something you would openly tell someone as news around this town travels quite fast. 

So now, you were drowning out your sorrows at Mystic Grill, sparking up conversations with Matt as he was working the bar this evening. When he wasn’t serving other customers, he was cleaning glasses and talking to you. 

“What’s gotcha down, (Y/Nickname)?” Matt asks, using your favorite nickname that only your closest friends use, as he leans forward on the counter across from you. 

“Oh, nothing,” You answer, leaning your head on your fist, your arm bent across the bar. You held a toothpick between your fingers as you traced random lines and shapes around the wood. “Just the usual. Work, mostly, among other things.” You shrugged, continuing your invisible art.

You always thought Matt, as one of your best friends, had this intuition, as if he knew almost if not everything about you. What you didn’t know was that he knew the one thing that you hadn’t told a single person, the one thing you didn’t want anyone to know. And, although he didn’t like the certain fact, he vowed to always be there for you, despite the situations you refused to tell him or anyone else about.

That’s why when he glances over at the door to see Damon waltzing in, Matt continued to keep up the conversation, keeping his eyes on the man that stole your heart without even knowing.

Damon immediately spotted you at the bar, his brain sensing your presence the second he walked in. He noticed a melancholic expression adorned your face as he made his way over to his usual booth in the corner. Damon didn’t show his emotions on the outside, but whenever he saw you, his emotions went wild on the inside. He wanted to know what made you so sad. He wanted to comfort you. When it came to you, every part of him that anyone has ever known is thrown out the window, replaced by a sweet, kindhearted man who wants to love and be loved by you. 

“Can I get you something to drink? Maybe (your favorite cocktail), your favorite?” Matt smiled your way, making your eyes flick to his, a smile crawling onto your lips. Somehow, you came here not wanting to be home alone doing nothing, just wanting to be out and about, and thought you’d see if Matt was working. So, when you came into Mystic Grill, you didn’t even think about drinking oddly enough, only looking for some friendly convo with your friend.

Matt’s suggestion pulled a laugh out of you, it coming out louder than you intended, but you didn’t care. “Oh, Matt, my friend, you know me so well,” You smiled sheepishly, getting one in return from him. 

You spin around in your bar stool, facing the restaurant to people-watch as Matt made your drink, only to be met with the piercing blue eyes of the one and only Damon Salvatore. Of course, he would be here. How had you not even noticed until now?

Your smile falls and you panic as you quickly spin back around to face the bar, your cheeks burning, most likely red as rubies. Just then, Matt slides your drink in front of you, pulling your attention to him. You meet his eyes and he already had a knowing look on his face. How did he know? You thought questioningly. Matt offered you a smile and a wink, and you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Damon’s POV

Watching Y/N with Matt, or any other guy for that matter, is torture. I should be the one to make her smile, to make her laugh, to make her feel anything at all. But, no. With Y/N, I’m a coward. I’m usually so confident, but with her, I can’t control myself. Why can’t I just go up to her and tell her how I feel? 

Because I’m not that kind of person. I can’t outwardly express my feelings. I don’t deserve her anyway. I can’t be the guy she deserves. But watching her laugh like that with someone who isn’t me makes my blood go cold. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve always been selfish. And if being selfish is what it takes to have her in my life the way I want, that’s how it’s going to be. And I know exactly how to make it happen. 

I stand and rush out of the grill, just barely missing what seemed to be a longing glance from Y/N as I storm out, her eyes glued to my retreating back. I pass by Stefan and Enzo on my way out. I was supposed to meet them, but the matter at hand is much more important. I speed home to get everything prepared. 

* * *

I’d say Y/N knows me better than I know myself. We’re inseparable and that’s why I can’t hold back anymore. I can’t handle not being able to hold her and kiss her and just show the world how much I love this woman. 

Damon: I need you to come over. It’s an emergency…

Y/N: What? Why? What’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you okay?

That’s a big reason why I love her so much. Always making sure everyone is alright, doing everything in her power to fix things and make everything okay. 

Damon: No, questions. Just get here as soon as possible.

Y/N isn’t a vampire. She’s so purely human that it makes me love her more. But, that’s also why I’m so surprised by how fast she got here despite not being able to run at an inhumane speed like me. 

“Damon!” She screamed through the house. I didn’t answer back, just waiting for her to find me in the kitchen. “Hello?” She called out again. 

When she did finally reach the kitchen, skidding to a halt, she seemed out of breath, naturally, and panicked, as she did at the bar, but different. Her cheeks were flustered as her eyes widened and she made her way towards me quickly. 

“Damon, what’s going on? What’s the emergency?” She attempted to catch her breath as she looked around at the large kitchen island that was covered in the ingredients of her favorite dinner. She may know me better than I know myself, but I also know every little thing about her. 

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to get here as fast as possible. Great timing by the way. Dinner’s almost ready,” I said in my normal nonchalant tone, turning to the oven to take out the main course. When I turned around, however, Y/N did not look happy. Stunned, maybe, her eyes still wide in disbelief as she stared at me. I froze in my tracks, staring right back into her beautiful blue eyes. That’s when I noticed what she was wearing. She’d changed from what she had on at the bar. It looked like she had gone home to get comfy and relax in her black lace cropped tank top and matching pj shorts. I couldn’t help but glance down at the stretch of tummy she was showing off. I couldn’t get enough of it, I couldn’t hold back a small smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

She had thrown on a jacket and boots (as it was Winter), and she didn’t waste a second getting here. A twinge of guilt ran through me, but the selfish part of me was just glad she was here and looking gorgeous in spite of the casual attire. 

“Damon Guiseppe Salvatore!” Y/N started as she made her way toward me, stopping as she leaned toward me against the island. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You think it’s okay to just tell me there’s an emergency when there isn’t? To tell me to get here as fast as possible without a single reason?” She finished, her eyes burning with anger. I could see another emotion in there, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. 

“I did have a reason. I want to cook you dinner, that’s what I’m doing, and I wanted you to get here ‘cause I cook fast.” I shrugged as if it was obvious, getting back to the last of the food. 

“Damon…” She sighed in exasperation. The guilt was getting stronger the more negative emotion she showed, although I tried to ignore it. “You can’t… you can’t just…” I looked up after hearing her hesitation to see her eyes getting red and tears building up before they spilled over all together. The anger washed away as something completely different took over. She held her hand up to her throat, leaning down against the counter, attempting to hold herself up. I dropped what I was holding, not caring what it was, and sped over to her, pulling her upright and holding her against me. Every wall I’ve ever built came crashing down, and it was all for her. I held her close as she cried into my chest.

“Baby, why are you crying?” The nickname just slipped out, and if she noticed, she didn’t let it show. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would affect you like this.” She pulled away, something that looked almost like hurt evident in her eyes. 

“Damon, you know how I am,” Her voice didn’t sound as angry, but there was still a lot of emotion in her tone. “You tell me something’s wrong and I’m there within minutes. It doesn’t matter what it is. But you go and do this, especially after the week I’ve had. But, of course, you wouldn’t notice. No one ever does. No one ever notices the sadness, the depression, the anxiety. Why do I even try? Why-?” I couldn’t let her go on like this anymore. I leaned forward, taking her in my arms, and captured her lips with mine in the most passionate kiss, the one I’ve been waiting for since I first met her. 

I pulled away, holding her face in my hands, her hands latched onto my wrists. “I notice everything,” I begin, my tone firm as I stare intently into her eyes. “I notice every little thing about you because I love you!”

She gasped, her eyes that were frozen to mine widening in shock. “What?” She was barely able to let out a whisper of a word.

“How could you not see it? Every time we went out, I would notice your nervous ticks. I would notice how you tried to hide it with a smile so no one else would see. I would take your hands, calming you down. Every time you came here looking all sad and broken, I could see the tears and I would talk to you. Every time you had one too many drinks or you were just so tired that you couldn’t stand on your own two feet, I was there to help you and take care of you. And I do it all because I love you. I love you so much, Y/N, and I have since the moment I laid eyes on you. And I hate that I haven’t told you ‘til now, but I thought you’d be better off without me. I know you deserve better than me, but I’m too selfish to stay away. So, I’m taking you and I’m making you mine.” I stared into her ocean eyes, trying to gauge a reaction, an emotion, anything, but came up empty.

Until she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to mine and I welcomed them with all the emotion that I had built up for her. I bent down so she didn’t have to reach up anymore, her hand reaching up to curl around the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her tight against me as she arched her back to mold her body with mine, and she fit perfectly.

“It’s about time.” I chuckled at her words, almost missing her lips. “Ya know, jealousy doesn’t suit you,” She giggled, her face just centimeters from mine. I groaned, leaning my forehead against her, my thumbs brushing over her bare waist.

“Oh, darling, I can’t tell you how much I wanted to punch every single guy that touched you, let alone those who even looked at you. You’re mine and if anyone else sets a finger on you, I-” She interrupted me by placing her finger against my lips, hers turning into a sly smile. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you, my love. You have nothing to worry about. I am yours and I love you.” She admitted sheepishly, her cheeks turning red. I’ve always loved making her blush, even when she didn’t notice it happening. “But I will get you back for what you did. You just wait,” She tried to be menacing as she fisted my shirt in her hand. I found it quite adorable. I just smiled mischievously, leaning down and picking her up in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I take her lips in mine once again. Oh, how I’ve longed for this magnificent woman. 

~~~~

Taglist:

@elenavampire21

#fluff #angst #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagines #matt donavan

[wndaswife]

two slow dancers

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tags: smut, fluff, angst, unspecified age gap, jealousy, strap-ons, cnc, manipulation, breast slapping, cunnilingus, hair pulling, slight spanking, belly bulges, degradation, praise, dumbification, mommy kink, breeding kink, piss kink, impact play, breast play, mentions of somnophilia, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 6996

summary: Your coworker invites you and a few others to celebrate New Year's Eve at her place, but all she wants to do is get you alone.

gif credit to creator.

Through your window, stray fireworks shoot up in the dusked horizon.

A week ago, your coworker, Wanda, invited you over for a New Year’s Eve gathering at her house. She started at the job no longer than a month ago, and you believe you’ve gotten relatively close with her since then.

Wanda Maximoff is thirty-four with an ex-husband and two twin boys you’ve never met. You’ve seen her ex once when he was dropping some things off for her at work. The exchange you observed could only be described as one between two vaguely similar creatures at best, interacting only out of necessity. They shared children and nothing more.

She took a liking to you in particular, and you were grateful for having her company for the last month.

She had a knack for offering comfort, and you often found yourself revealing to her some of your most intimate feelings and worries when you hadn’t even intended to. Wanda would always be so kindhearted, running a hand down your arm or squeezing your thigh gently while responding to you with supportive coos.

Now that the day of the party has come around, you’re standing in front of a mirror, holding up a pair of earrings to each side of your face. You survey the glistening faux emeralds, turning them around and observing them with great focus in the mirror before opting for a different pair.

“Are you ready?” a voice chimes from the hallway. 

Looking into the mirror, you see Monica step into your bedroom in a pair of black jeans and a warm blue-green long sleeve. 

“Just about…” you mutter, putting on a pair of pearl earrings. Turning around to face your friend, you ask, “Does it match?”

After a moment of deliberation, Monica nods. “Yeah, it matches,” she confirms and heads over to your bed to get your purse. “Who are you dressing up for, huh?” she inquires, a grin forming on her face as she looks over at you getting your jacket on. “Wanda?”

Your eyes snap over to her too quickly to hide your peaked interest at your coworker’s name. “What?” you chuckle out nervously. You lean down to pick up a pair of flats from your closet, thankful for the way your hair shrouded your suddenly-flushed face.

With crossed arms, Monica approaches your bedroom door as she looks down at you, amused.

“N-No,” you finally answer. “I just want to look good. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Sure,” Monica says simply, nodding. She hooks her arm around yours and leaves the bedroom with you.

You carpool to Wanda’s house together, as plans were to meet everyone there at a certain time. Despite having left early, Monica takes a wrong turn and you end up getting caught in traffic as the car takes the main roads to Wanda’s place.

Finally, you arrive at your destination about half an hour late.

With her homemade mango float and your bottle of champagne, Monica hopes the both of you can apologise to Wanda for the late arrival. She makes a joke that Wanda wouldn’t mind in the slightest if the two of you came even two hours late so long as you were arriving with her. 

The front door to Wanda’s house opens, revealing your coworker with her brown hair let down, and you notice for the first time how long it is. Today, she is wearing a bit of blush and a darker red lip than she normally wears for work.

Her eyes flicker between you and Monica before Monica lifts up a covered dish of mango float, breaking the brief silence.

“We’re sorry for how late we are. Traffic,” she says, a sheepish smile forming on her face.

As if returning to the present, Wanda blinks and smiles. “It's quite alright,” she reassures.

Just then, Darcy pops up behind Wanda and reaches her arms out to take the mango float from Monica’s hands. “Thank you,” she says graciously, eyeing the tinfoiled dish as if she would take a whole bite out of it then and there, tinfoil and ceramic material included. 

“Hey, Y/N. Happy New Year’s Eve,” she greets with a grin.

“Hi, Darcy,” you reply with a smile and a little wave.

Monica steps into the house and takes her boots and jacket off. Darcy leads her into the house.

Then, it’s only you and Wanda standing at the front door.

“Oh dear, how rude of me,” your coworker says. “Please, sweetheart, come in.” She ushers you into her house and tucks a hand under your jacket, making your back straighten. If she notices your sudden jerk of tension, she says nothing of it. Her hand loops around your waist to your furthest hip so her arm embraces you under your jacket.

Her hand reaches down below your eyeline while you’re looking up at her. You’re hugged against her side, swallowing your nerves but trembling all the same.

“Is this for me?” she whispers, grinning as if amused.

All you can manage in response is an idiotic, “Wh-What?”

A bottle of champagne is lifted up so you can see it and, with her eyes, Wanda gestures to it.

“Oh,” you say, then clear your throat. “Yeah, that’s for you. For everyone, kind of.”

Wanda hums and examines the bottle. Her eyes return to you and she smiles again. “We can say it’s for everyone to appease the guests,” she suggests and removes her arm from around your body. She begins to take off your jacket with her free hand and you slip your other arm out of the sleeve. She hangs your jacket up for you, and with her hand against your lower back, leads you out of the front foyer and into the living room.

Familiar happy faces greet you once you enter the living room with some women lounging on the couches and some standing around.

Jen, Darcy, Natasha and her younger sister Yelena, an unfamiliar girl who you would later find is named Kate, and Carol all exchange greetings with you.

Wanda’s hand leaves your lower back and you turn to watch her place your champagne on the kitchen counter with a few other bottles of wine and a cooler of what you suppose is filled with sparklers and beer.

Monica pulls you down onto the couch and you take a seat between her and Darcy. 

You think you see a flash of Wanda eyeing you from across the living room from beyond the passthrough window that connects the living room and the kitchen, but when you look over to her, she’s already starting a conversation with Jennifer. 

You tell yourself that you’ll talk with Wanda later.

A body suddenly sprawls itself out across the laps of you and the two other women on either side of you, thus taking your attention away from Wanda.

Carol stretches herself out in front of the three of you.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Y/N,” she says with a grin that reminds you all too well of a golden retriever. 

You respond with an equally large smile, “Happy New Year’s Eve, Carol.”

The afternoon passes swiftly, especially with Wanda hosting. Not a moment passes when there aren’t drinks nor fresh snacks and food available along the kitchen counter. She’s an extremely attentive host, engaging herself in conversation and ensuring everyone is well taken care of.

Wanda also gave everyone a tour of her house during which she got endless compliments on nearly every room she introduced. 

Eventually, all of you gather around the dining room table playing a board game Kate brought and are divided into two teams. You have no idea how to play.

At the sight of your confused expression, Wanda places a hand dangerously close to your ass and pulls you close to her under the table. 

“Do you know how to play, darling?” she inquires with a curious tip of her head.

When you tell her you don’t, she invites you to sit beside her and stay on her team. She tells you she’s played it with her twins and ex-husband a handful of times and that she’ll help you through it.

You settle in the chair beside Wanda and move yourself closer to the table.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!” Monica announces and rushes over from the washroom. “What team should I join?”

“Join Y/N’s,” Wanda suggests. “I do believe couples should avoid all competition if possible.”

A few laughs and confused expressions are exchanged around the table.

“Cou…” you trail off and look up at Monica, who looks equally as confused as you. “What?”

“We’re not together,” Monica corrects with an awkward smile and a chuckle.

“Oh, you aren’t?” she repeats, looking between the two of you. You recall the way she looked at the two of you when you arrived together and when you took a seat beside Monica on the couch before. Though it was true that you and Monica were close, one would truly have to reach to come to the conclusion that you were dating each other.

Then, Wanda laughs. “I was under the impression that you were. My apologies,” she says.

The misunderstanding is easily forgotten because Wanda only started working with all of you about a month ago. Anyone could understand the mistake. But even so, your face remains flushed as you think back to the curious stares you got from her, and you were caught up in the momentary glint of envy behind each one.

Monica takes a seat beside Darcy, on the other team across the table.

Kate sets up the game and Wanda pours everyone a glass of the champagne you brought and leaves the bottle in the middle of the table for anyone to refill their glasses.

“Come closer, Y/N,” Wanda whispers once Yelena and Kate begin explaining the rules of the game. She wraps her fingers under your chair and moves your chair closer to her. 

Wanda’s arm remains comfortably wrapped around your waist despite your occasional movements. You watch her concentrated face, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she listens to the rest of the game instructions all while her hand is running up and down your side as if you were an idle pet.

A pressure forms between your thighs and you adjust your position on your chair.

The game becomes increasingly amusing the more all of you sip at glasses of champagne and some on their bottles of beer, steadily growing more tipsy.

At some point during the game, Wanda’s arm leaves from around your waist, after which her hand ends up finding your thigh instead. Absentmindedly, her hand moves up and down your thigh, her fingers sometimes rounding your leg and squeezing.

Now that you were tipsy, you’d become significantly sensitive, shuddering under her touch and having difficulty playing your part of the game. Your face feels warm, which doesn’t help the blush that you know is there.

After the other team gains an advantage of six points against yours, they’re deemed the winners and everyone helps clean up. They decide to watch a movie and Wanda leaves the dining room momentarily to show them how to work the remote and the television.

There are plans to play a different game afterwards and you hear Wanda say she has it upstairs and will fetch it so it’s ready once the movie starts.

“Come help me, Y/N,” she says as she passes through the dining room to the staircase. Wanda stops at the base of the stairs and lets you catch up with her before you ascend together.

You follow beside her quietly, looking around curiously at the second floor. You’d seen it before when Wanda gave the tour of the house, but it was different now that it was empty other than for you and her. 

With the silence, you could envision Wanda living here on her own, heading upstairs in the evening and descending in the mornings. For the first time, you feel a sort of pity for Wanda’s living circumstances. It’s a quiet house, and rather large. It’s New Year’s Eve and you haven't seen Tommy, Billy, or even her ex-husband. 

You follow behind Wanda when she unlocks her bedroom door and steps in. 

“How are you enjoying the evening so far, sweet girl?” she asks. It’s only when Wanda looks over her shoulder at you that you redirect your attention from her bedroom. 

“Oh,” you answer idly then clear your throat. “I’m enjoying myself. It’s been really fun.”

When Wanda reaches her closet, she opens it and leans down to dig through a pile of boxes. Your eyes instinctively move to the curve of her ass, but you force yourself to look away and at the dresses and coats hanging in the closet. 

“What are you enjoying about it, sweetheart?” Wanda asks once she straightens and closes the closet with her free hand. In her other hand, a few stacked boxes of board games. She approaches you and you struggle to answer her.

It’s incredible what a fool you become around her.

Wanda smiles and sets the board games atop the corner of her bed. She raises her hand to your face and strokes your cheek with her knuckles. “You’re so young,” she whispers. The words themselves didn’t sound entirely like a compliment nor insult, but her eyes that are softened in gentle admiration tells you otherwise. 

You swallow and make a noise that was supposed to sound like a ‘thank you,’ or at least an acknowledgement of her commendation.

“Come here,” Wanda says, her hand dropping to your own. She takes it and leads you towards her vanity. She lifts your arm and with her other hand on your hip, moves you forward to round the seat that’s in front of vanity. Then, two hands are placed on your hips from behind and Wanda guides you into sitting down.

In the mirror, you can see her looming above you from behind. But Wanda isn’t looking in the mirror. She’s looking down at you from above. Her hands move upwards, up your sides and up the sides of your breasts, then to your shoulders. Finally, her hands find each side of your head where Wanda finally does look up at the mirror.

Careful fingers brush your hair back behind your ears.

“These are pretty, Y/N,” she tells you. Her thumbs flick at your pearl earrings.

You blush and utter a quiet, “Thank you.”

Wanda smiles at your graciousness and runs the backs of her fingers down the sides of your face. She continues to do this for the next few moments, alternating between the tips of her fingers to her thumbs to the backs of her fingers, exploring your face gently. With a featherweight pressure, she runs her fingers across your bottom lip, your brow bone, your forehead and your temples.

You watch in silence as she does so.

Green eyes flicker up from your face and into your eyes through the mirror. They wrinkle at the edges when she smiles slightly.

“Turn to me,” she instructs and you do while she leans forward and digs through a box on top of her vanity.

When Wanda straightens, you’re looking right up at her. Your legs are dangling off the other side of the chair and your face is in front of her stomach. Her hand cups your cheek and she positions a mascara wand in front of your face.

“Look up,” she says. When you look up at the bedroom ceiling, Wanda moves the wand forward. She brushes your eyelashes gently, retouching your makeup, and you’re tempted to look down at her but do not lest you get mascara on your eyebrow.

Her thumb strokes at the corner of your mouth.

Then, suddenly, Wanda whispers, “My boys didn’t want to spend New Year’s with me.”

At her words, you look down at her immediately. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth in forewarning and you look back up to the ceiling,

You question, “Why?”

“Perhaps… their father is more attuned to celebration and I am not,” she supposes. 

“Why didn’t you celebrate together?” you ask and instantly bite your tongue for asking too much. But Wanda’s thumb continues to stroke the corner of your mouth and she shows no sign of irritation.

“They didn’t want to,” she answers. Wanda moves to your other eye. “Almost done.”

There’s a momentary silence between the two of you until you ask, “When will you see them next?”

“I presume the first week of January,” she thinks aloud. “Some time then.”

Wanda inhales softly but you hear the long drag of her breath. 

“Are your parents together, Y/N?” she asks.

“No, they divorced when I was younger.”

With a nod, Wanda says, “I see.” 

Then after a moment, she speaks again, “Was there ever any partiality?”

“It was hard sometimes, from what I remember,” you answer. Wanda nods. “But I really loved both of them the same. They were my parents. They did love me, I always knew that.”

Wanda’s hand leaves your cheek and she reaches back to twist it back into its bottle. “Finished,” she states and lifts a handheld mirror to your face. She tucks your hair back behind your ears. “Look how pretty you are.”

“Wanda,” you whisper.

She looks from the mirror and over to you, lips parted. “What is it?” 

“There isn’t a moment your boys don’t know how much you love them. How could they?” you uttered quietly. “And they love you because of it. Loving them is, essentially, one of the greatest things you can do for a kid. Any child would be extremely lucky to have you as their mother. You mustn't think they don’t know that. They’ll come back to you. I promise you they will.”

Wanda only stares down at you, her eyebrows still slightly pushed together. Her lips twitch in a miniscule, hardly noticeable way, and you wouldn’t have noticed it had you not been staring at them- the soft curves and the full faded-red shade of them.

Her finger hooks under your chin and she sets the mirror down on the edge of the vanity seat. She tugs her finger up carefully and you stand from your seat, but Wanda leans down quick enough to kiss your lips and you stumble back down onto it. Her hands find your hips then round them to your ass, squeezing harshly and pulling you up.

Clumsily, you trip forward against her, but Wanda steadies you. She turns you and makes you walk backwards into her bed.

The back of your knees meet with the edge of her bed and you sit back. Her wrists escape your hold and she slips her cardigan off, then her shirt. You lean forward and kiss her stomach, peppering kisses upwards while you unbutton her jeans and pull them down to her ankles.

Wanda reaches down and unzips your dress. She pushes its sleeves from your shoulders and eagerly pulls it down to your waist. With a hand on your shoulder, she pushes you back onto the bed and you move backwards atop of it so Wanda can pull your dress from your hips. She tosses it onto the foot of her bed and runs her hands up your thighs as she straightens.

She delivers a spank to the side of your ass and with a swift wave of her hand, pushes the board games from her bed, sending them toppling down to the floor.

You move further backwards onto her bed and Wanda gets on. She starts at your knees, parting your thighs slowly as she moves up your body. 

Wanda nips at your inner thighs, sucking at your skin and running her tongue up anywhere she could. Her hands find your ass again and she lifts you up from the bed momentarily so she could nudge her nose against your clothed clit. She grins at your muffled whimper and nips at your hip teasingly. She peppers wet kisses up your stomach and up to the valley of your breasts.

Her hands on your ass move up your body and find the clasp of your bra, taking it off and tossing it somewhere behind her. She gropes your breasts with both hands and moans appreciatively. She pinches your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

Her grin widens. “Look how cute you are, huh?” she muses and plays with your tits in her hands, massaging them thoroughly and tugging at your nipples.

Straddling your hips and rolling them forward slightly to rub her clothed pussy against your thigh, Wanda pushes your breasts together and leans down to flick her tongue across each of your nipples. She kisses your breasts and then your painfully erect nipples, making you shudder. Her lips wrap around one of your buds, suckling at you and raking her teeth against you.

Your back lifts from the bed, pushing your breasts further against Wanda’s face as you moan out. Her free hand gropes your tit, her thumb having a particularly enjoyable time playing with your nipple.

“Feels good, baby?” she asks, looking up at you.

You hum out in response because you can’t manage any real words.

Wanda grins at your incapacity and switches breasts. Her saliva cools your other nipple in her mouth’s wake. Her other hand takes hold of one of yours and brings it up to your breast, making you fondle yourself.

The speed of her hips quicken and Wanda’s lips release from your nipple to moan out, her exhale warm against your skin. She straightens herself and moves to sit on your lower stomach, detaching her cunt from your thigh. You can see a darkened patch of her slick against her red panties.

She reaches back and unclips her bra.

Your cheeks and ears become warm as her tits push against your face when Wanda leans down and kisses your forehead. 

“Touch mommy’s breasts, puppy. Don’t be shy,” she utters against your forehead before sitting up and running her hands up your chest.

You reach up and press your hands to her breasts like she asked, fingers squeezing around them and making Wanda moan out. Her hips begin rolling forward against your stomach as she craves friction once more.

She squeezes your tits again, paying special attention to your hardened buds. 

Then Wanda reaches forward, her breasts only mere inches from your face once again. You hear her dig through her nightstand while you hold onto her shoulders, looking up at her face. She smiles over at you appreciatively when you kiss the side of her breast.

When she closes the nightstand and sits up, she’s holding some type of harness and a rather large black dildo. She watches your expression closely, smiling at the shock that comes over you. “Interested, my sweet girl?” she asks you with a quirked eyebrow.

You swallow nervously and Wanda slips off the bed. You watch her slip her panties off and run a few fingers through her cunt. She leans forward and sticks them into your mouth. You wrap your lips around her fingers immediately. 

She curls them in your mouth and you suck from them eagerly.

Wanda smiles and slips her fingers out once they’re cleaned of her juices. She strokes your cheek then pulls away to finish inserting the dildo and strapping the harness around her hips. 

When Wanda mounts the bed again and straddles your hips, she lays her cock across your lower stomach. Her hand reaches down between the two of you and pulls your panties down your legs.

Cold fingers press against your bare cunt and a small smile forms on Wanda’s lips at the shudder that runs through your body at the contact. She draws wide circles against your clit, her middle finger slowly entering and exiting your hole. She traces your opening with the pad of her finger while her free hand plays with your hair.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N,” she says, looking down at your naked body. Her fingers release their hold on your hair and she runs her fingers through the valley of your breasts all while you squirm below her. “So perfect. These beautiful tits and your young body. Gods, even at your age, I never looked like this.”

“You’re…” you manage to say through your whimpers, “... beautiful too, Wanda.”

She smiles at that but her thoughts are indiscernible. 

Now thoroughly saturated with your cum, Wanda wraps her hand around her cock, jerking it softly and coating it with your juices. Moving her hips back slightly, she positions herself against your opening. 

She lowers herself to your face, your breasts pushed up against hers as she kisses the tip of your nose. 

You feel her begin to enter you and a surge of panic quickens your heartbeat. “W-Wanda, no, it’s too big,” you plead, turning your head to look at her as she buries her nose against your cheek. 

“It’ll fit,” she presses.

“No, it won-”

You’re cut off as Wanda’s hips advance forward. You feel yourself begin to stretch out for her and your eyes shut tightly. You’re wet enough for her to glide against you, but you can’t stretch enough for her- she’s too big. It won’t fit. She’ll break you in half.

“Wanda, please!” you cry against her.

“Mommy,” Wanda corrects, hissing against your temple, “will make it fit. Just be a good girl and stay still.”

Your face contorts into something tight and anguished.

Once Wanda fits her tip past your opening, her speed of entering you quickens and you cry out, reaching up and trying to push her off of you.

She raises her hand to your breast and slaps it harshly, making you pull away from her and withdraw your arms. She gropes it, fingernails digging into your skin. 

“Do not move,” Wanda commands, each word thumping heavily against your ears as she speaks from beyond clenched teeth. She releases your breast and takes a hold of both of your wrists before holding them up above your head.

“I’m not above tying you down, Y/N,” she jests with a grin though you know her words are more than partially true. The words send a chill up your spine and you feel a shameful sense of warmth spread through you despite yourself.

She buries her face in your neck and kisses her way up to your ear. “Just relax, my beautiful girl. It’ll hurt less,” she hushes. “Mommy will take good care of you.” 

Her lips wrap around your lobe and she sucks softly at the flaccid skin. Her warm saliva cools your skin in the wake of her lips when Wanda moves towards your face. Her nose rubs against your temple, then her cheek against your own as a mother would her young. 

Her lips are pressed against your cheek and she continues to whisper soft praises and words of encouragement against your flushed skin, her warm breath cocooning you in a snug embrace.

Your hips finally come into contact with Wanda’s and you whimper. Every movement you make creates a pressure in the base of your spine, reminding you that you have the largest cock you’ve ever taken deep inside of you.

“Ah, do you see?” Wanda coos. “You took it all.”

With a shaky exhale, you nod. You open your eyes to see Wanda smiling down at you warmly and you suddenly feel extremely proud of yourself.

She kisses you tenderly and utters against your lips, “You’re such a smart girl. So bright,” she murmurs. “Mommy knows how to take care of you, doesn’t she?”

You nod with a happy smile and kiss her again.

Wanda laughs softly through her nose and kisses the space between your eyebrows when you part from the kiss. “Now, I don’t want to see you disobey me again. You ought to know how helpless and dumb you are without me. Good smart girls listen to their mommies,” she instructs.

“Yes, mommy. Wanna be a good girl,” you affirm, wiggling joyfully underneath her. The pressure of Wanda’s cock returns as you wiggle your hips so you stop immediately, though you feel an urge to buck your hips upwards to see what it would feel like.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she praises and pecks your lips, her tone suddenly maternal. She sits up again and takes hold of your hips with both hands, pulling you forward so the lower half of your body rests atop her lap. 

She pulls your ass against her lower stomach, her hips moving forward and moving her cock deep inside you.

You squirm and only feel it deeper within you, her strap stretching you out as it moves either way while fitting snugly between your walls. 

Then Wanda begins thrusting forward. With your thighs wrapped weakly around her waist, she thrusts her hips against your ass. 

Your head falls back against the pillow and your eyes screw shut at the immense pressure that forms at the base of your spine.

“Fuck, malyshka,” Wanda grunts, “you’re tight.” She places her hand on your lower stomach, drawing soothing circles there with her palm. The act relaxes you slightly and Wanda quickens her thrusts. 

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and restrain a cry. “Mama, too big…” you slur out, grasping at the bed sheets underneath you.

She responds, “You’ll take it, fucking slut.” Wanda pulls out of you suddenly and flips you onto your stomach. With her hands on your hips, she tugs you forward and sticks your ass into the air. She enters your cunt again and you cry out into a pillow. But Wanda does not take precautions she previously did. Her hips pick up speed and she slams forward into your ass repeatedly.

The slapping of skins mingle with the sounds of your muffled cries and Wanda’s grunts.

With the last fragments of capability you have to think independently, you hope desperately that none of the guests downstairs come through the door. You don’t realise how far ahead Wanda had planned when she first took you upstairs, nor the fact that she locked the door.

Your cries steadily turn into moans of pleasure if not fucked out of you with each thurst against your ass. Your hands unclench from the bed sheets but your face is still pressed into Wanda’s pillow. 

Her front presses against your back and Wanda’s groans exhale against the side of your neck.

“Tell mommy you love her cock,” she instructs, then kisses your shoulder.

Your words are slurred against the pillow as you answer, “I love your cock, mama.” You move your head so your lips are exposed to the air and your repeated words can be heard more clearly, but what comes out is no more discernible than before.

Wanda kisses the side of your neck and straightens. This time, she takes you with her, pulling you up so you’re sitting on her lap, your back still pressed against her front. Your knees are on the outer sides of Wanda’s, your legs spread as you sit on her lap. 

You can feel her nipples grazing against your back as Wanda thrusts upwards into you.

With this position, your moans are expelled into the room that already seems to you to be muggy with the scent of sex and the hot pants from the two of you.

She buries her face in your neck, wrapping her lips around your pulse and sucking. She bites down on another spot, causing you to cry out and jerk forward. But she wraps her hands around your waist, keeping you in place.

Her eyes dart down to your bouncing breasts, and with an amused and nearly sadistic smirk, she slaps one of your tits, and then the other. You hear her chuckle against your neck between your yelps. Both hands then grope your breasts, massaging harshly and twisting your nipples callously. 

“Mama, no, that hurts,” you whimper pathetically, squirming on her lap.

Wanda hums, uninterested in your pleading. She kisses your shoulder. “Mommy hurts you because she loves you, puppy,” she says. 

One of her hands moves down to your lower stomach. Her hand brushes over the bulge there, feeling the way it pushes against her hand with every one of her thrusts into your pussy. The heel of her hand presses down without warning. Immense pressure shoots through you and makes your clit throb.

You cry out and you feel your walls squeeze around Wanda’s cock. A different kind of pressure that you can’t quite discern forms in your lower stomach.

“My pretty brainless fucktoy,” Wanda coos into your ear. 

You feel warm pride bloom within you, but you can only manage a garbled, “Thank you, mommy.”

“I want to fill you with my children,” she pants into your ear. Her hips quicken as she continues, evidently turned on by what she’s saying. Your body jerks on top of her lap helplessly, your breasts bouncing at each harsh thrust and making it impossible for Wanda not to continue playing with them.

“Come in your pussy and fill your tight hole full of my hot cream,” she says. “I want you to carry my children. I want to see your pretty belly full of my puppies, to see our babies as cute as you. I want to come home from work to fuck my adorable little housewife dumb, until you can only take more of my seed, filling you over and over like the willing little breeding bitch you are.” 

Wanda reaches up and takes the lower half of your face into her hand harshly. She turns your head and kisses you. Despite her words and the harsh way she’s fucking you, despite the brusing handling of your breasts and the bites she delivered to your neck, her kiss is soft and possessive, her lips moving against yours in soft embraces as if worshiping them.

“You’ll be mommy’s precious cockwhore. I’ll fuck your pussy whenever it pleases me. If you’re angry with mama, if you’re sleeping, if we’re out together- I won’t spare any mercy in taking you for my own,” she grunts with the effort she’s putting into fucking you. “From now on, you’re mine.”

Her hand reaches down and she brushes three fingers side-to-side against your clit, sending you throttling forward and closer to your orgasm. 

Wanda kisses up your neck adoringly, nipping where she can and sucking at your skin soothingly. “Come for mommy, moya lyubov,” she whispers against your cheek then kisses it. “Let me see my perfect little girl.” Her free hand rounds your waist. The heel of her hand presses into your tummy bulge and her fingers pick up speed.

The indiscernible pressure in your lower stomach from earlier suddenly flowers, and at the slightest taste of your orgasm, it comes into fruition. You wince and hide your face in the mess of Wanda’s sweet-smelling hair, and a warm burst of release streams out of you.  

Wanda inhales sharply and her lips part from your neck so she can look down your body where you’re pissing all over her lap.

Your body is fatigued and now acting on its own without any conscious thought, leaving you to Wanda’s mercy as she takes your body for her own. In your complete abandonment of independence, it’s only Wanda who’s holding you up and keeping you warm.

“Oh, Y/N,” she whispers, in awe at your release. Her lips form into a grin and she kisses you. Her hand wraps around her dick, carefully pulling it out of your pathetically wet hole. She lets go of her cock and she slowly slides her hand up your cunt, allowing her hand and fingers to be soaked by your piss. “That’s a good, good girl. That’s right. Just let go, baby.”

Your cries release in short, trembling whimpers and Wanda kisses up your cheek. She presses a kiss to your soft lips.

While you quiver on her lap, your walls clenching hard around nothing and getting used to being empty after taking mommy’s thick cock, Wanda unfastens her strap from around her hips.

She lays you down carefully, onto your back. She kisses your breast, lips grazing your nipple and making you shudder. She watches you pant and squirm weakly with a smile as she slips the harness from her ankles and lays it on the edge of the bed.

The bed dips around you as you slip in and out of sleep. When the bed dips by your head, you open your eyes and find yourself looking up at Wanda. Even while dazed, you’re struck by the sight of her- her cascading hair and her breasts, the plain of her stomach and the creamy white porcelain shade of her soft skin.

Wanda caresses your cheek with her hand and when her knee brushes against your ear, you realise they’re on either side of your head. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you say suddenly, looking up at the older woman with nothing but admiration in the glints of your eyes.

She smiles, though from the angle you’re laying at, you can’t see the soft blush that forms across her face at your words.

Unlike before, it seems that Wanda does believe in the genuinity of your words. It reaches her, embracing her in a way she hasn’t been in years.

“Thank you,” she answers, stroking her thumb across your cheekbone. Then she lowers herself, her cunt pressing up against the lower half of your face.

She throws her head back immediately, one hand going to grip at the headboard and the other grasping at your hair painfully. A long moan escapes her and Wanda begins rolling her hips forward and back.

You part your lips, immediately taken by the taste of her pussy. You dart your tongue out and allow Wanda to ride the stiff muscle. She jerks her hips to the side slightly, teasing her clit and making her clench around nothing.

When the tip of your nose nudges against her sensitive bud, Wanda shudders and chases the feeling quickly, rolling her hips further up and now riding your face steadily. You take your breaths in time with the rolling of Wanda’s hips when your nose is uncovered.

Your lips, chin, and nose are completely coated in her cum, and you feel it begin to glaze your cheeks over in its sticky coating too. Your lips make a circular shape against her cunt, allowing you to suck at her hole then at the rim of it, which Wanda finds particularly pleasurable, evident by the way her thighs tighten around your head.

“Fuck, puppy…” she moans. “So… good. You’re talented.”

With a jerking motion, you turn your head and create a certain friction against Wanda’s pussy that makes her screw her eyes shut and huff out.

The tip of your tongue raises and teases at her hole before delving into her. With her clit pressed down against your nose, Wanda reaches her hilt. Her fingers grip at your hair painfully, pulling you up against her pussy. Her thighs tremble and a melody of pleasured moans and pants mingle.

She climbs off from sitting on your face and sits beside your hip, one leg on the bed and the other dangling off of it. Her thumb runs across your cheek. “What a mess you’ve made of yourself, Y/N,” she states, her voice a low thrum. “Let me clean you up.”

While you doze off in her bed, an indefinite amount of time passing, Wanda soon returns in a red silk robe that only just covers her ass after having redone and retouched her own makeup. She takes a seat at the edge of the bed. She leans over you and with a cool soft cloth, wipes your smudged makeup off.

Her elbow is holding herself up while she pets your head with her free hand. She wipes your makeup and the beads of sweat from your face.

Once she finishes, she lays the cloth on her nightstand and looks down at you. She kisses your face, slowly, all over your forehead and cheeks, your closed eyes, your chin, and finally, your lips. 

“There we go,” Wanda whispers. She touches your face with her fingers while watching you slowly awaken from your brief nap. “You’re very pretty, Y/N. You’re so young…” she says quietly, looking down at you with a small smile, “and your skin is so soft.”

You finally open your eyes and Wanda’s smile widens.

Subtle, muffled music plays downstairs.

“They must be getting close to the end of the movie,” Wanda says. She places her hand between your breasts and draws invisible shapes on your chest with the tips of her fingers. “It's one of my favourites. I won’t spoil it for you. I think we should watch it together, just the two of us.”

The soft hymn continues to play downstairs. 

“I love this song too,” she adds. “Come dance with me. Then we can get ready to join the others again.” Wanda stands from the bed and, while you sit up, retrieves a soft fleece blanket from her closet. She returns to you and wraps it around your shoulders.

You stand from the bed and Wanda pulls you against her chest, her arms wrapped around your shoulders and back, keeping you cocooned by the warm blanket. She tucks your head under her chin. 

“Thank you for what you said earlier, Y/N,” Wanda whispers. “Those were very kind words. I’ll treasure them eternally.”

You nuzzle your face against her chest. “I meant it,” you say.

“I know.”

Wanda cradles the back of your head with her hand, her fingers scratching gently at your scalp. She hums along with the barely-audible music downstairs while the two of you sway in the middle of her bedroom.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut

[beautification-tales]

The Mirror

A beautification Fairy Tale

The air was thick with anticipation as Princess Lucia waited for the arrival of Prince Albert. She had been daydreaming about him for months, his piercing blue eyes, his chiseled jawline, and his kindhearted nature that seemed to radiate from every pore. Her heart raced as she imagined the feel of his strong hands as they held hers, the sound of his voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. The servants scurried about, preparing the great hall for his arrival, their movements a blur as Princess Lucia struggled to contain her excitement.

Lucia being the eldest was in prime placement to be betrothed to an eligible prince. Princess Ariana was the younger sister and would be next in line. They were sisters in name only as they couldn’t be more different. Ariana was impatient, spoiled, vain and cruel while Lucia was gracious, sweet and compassionate. As the hour grew closer, Lucia was escorted to the great hall by her handmaidens. Her heart fluttered as she caught sight of Prince Albert, his dark hair shining in the candlelight. He was even more handsome in person, and she found herself struggling to breathe as she made her way down the aisle.

The king and queen, along with their advisors, stood at the front of the hall, formally introducing Prince Albert to their daughter. Lucia could feel her cheeks burning as she curtsied low, her eyes never leaving his. Prince Albert seemed just as taken with her, his gaze lingering on her face before traveling down her figure. As they were finally released, he offered his arm to her, and she eagerly took it, allowing him to lead her through the crowd.

Ariana made her way to the hall. She was wearing a gown that her parents had forbidden her to wear. It showcased her ample bosom in a manner almost unbecoming for a woman of her stature. She had her servants tighten the corset so she could hardly breathe. The results were at the very least distracting. Prince Albert was not immune, asking Lucia if that was her younger sibling. Lucia nodded as she noticed Albert’s eyes follow her sister wherever she went.

As they sat down for the feast Ariana and Lucia sat on opposite sides of the Prince and told him tales of their land. Lucia would also tell of how she was trained to be a proper queen. “I have learned to read and write and I am familiar with the customs of your people. I wish to serve and assist you greatly.” Lucia said with pride. Ariana laughed and rebutted. “My sister is a real bore. Are you really thinking about that when you think queen? Or do you imagine other… possibilities?” She placed her hand on the prince’s thigh and squeezed. The prince coughed and took a sip of wine. “So Ariana, what do you plan to do for your future husband?” The prince asked with a smile.

Ariana smiled coyly. "Oh, I'm not sure yet. Perhaps I'll let him decide." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Prince Albert looked uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything. Lucia frowned at the behavior of her sister. Ariana always liked to take what Lucia had and her parents had indulged the behavior. She was eagerly hoping to be married and free from this life of being second place. Ariana was once again ruining her plans.

Meanwhile, Ariana grew more and more bold with her advances. She would send Lucia on fake wild chases to steal moments alone with Albert. She would whisper things in his ear as he blushed. Near the end of the night Lucia and Ariana both escorted Albert to his guest quarters. Lucia would shoot looks to her sister as if to shoo her away but Ariana ignored them. They opened the door for Albert as he wished them both a good night.

Lucia couldn’t sleep that night as her anger for her sister’s behavior boiled over. She knew she had to do something to save her engagement, but what? She had always been the quiet, obedient one, never causing trouble. But tonight, she felt a newfound determination welling up inside her. She slipped out of bed and crept through the castle, making her way to Prince Albert's chamber. She was puzzled as to why there was no guard watching her room but still she rushed out. Her heart raced as she found the door open. She hesitated for a moment, gathering her courage, before stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit by moonlight streaming through the open window. There she saw Ariana upon Albert as she rode him on the bed. Ariana was facing the doorway as she grinded upon Albert’s member. Her red hair glowed in the moonlight as she covered her exposed breasts. Ariana noticed her sister and did not stop her movements but in fact increased her pace. Albert groaned in ecstasy as Ariana moaned with a triumphant grin. “Isn’t this way better than boring my Prince?” Albert groaned his approval but caught his breath to add. “You’re nothing like your sister.”

Lucia couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she ran from the room back to her chamber. The image of her sister’s smile played over and over in her mind. Ariana was so cruel to purposely leave the door open and position herself as if she knew Lucia would catch them. Ariana had bribed the room guards somehow. She was crafty and had outplayed her innocent, naive older sister.Lucia looked at her body length mirror and gazed upon her body. Lucia and Ariana looked nothing alike. Lucia may have had the nicer qualities but Ariana had all the assets. Lucia for the first time was feeling a jealous rage as she looked upon her flat chest and non-existent hips and backside. It was then she realized that she had worked so hard for nothing. Albert didn’t care for intelligence and compassion, he wanted a woman with curves that knew how to please him. He wanted a woman like Ariana. Lucia screamed as she pushed her mirror to the floor as it shattered. Lucia crawled into her bed sobbing for the entire night.

The next morning, she was up before dawn. She dressed and went to the dining hall for breakfast. She saw Albert hand in hand with Ariana. Lucia knew what would happen next. The king and queen arrived as Albert wished to speak to them in private. The king and queen stepped aside to discuss matters with Albert. Lucia couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could see the looks of disappointment and anger on their faces. After a few moments, the king and queen nodded in agreement. The news was as Lucia had feared. Prince Albert had fallen hopelessly in love with Ariana and would only take her as a bride.

Lucia couldn't believe it. All her hopes and dreams were dashed in an instant. The news would spread fast and Lucia knew that she would appear broken and undesirable to suitors now. The worst part was watching her sister’s smile as she left to have the life that Lucia was longing for. Lucia stayed in her room reading books for the next weeks refusing to come out even to eat. Lucia hungered for something new….power. The power to change her life. The power to get what she wanted. The power to make those who wronged her pay.

Lucia finally found the book that would help her. An ancient spell book that took dark magic and gave the holder what they desire. It was in the curses she found what she had been looking for. The curse gave the one who recited the incantation unbelievable beauty. A beauty that would surpass all who lived but at a cost. The cost was not to be revealed until the spell was done. Lucia’s hands trembled as she read the spell knowing it would be dangerous to take such a risk. Ariana’s smile played once again in her mind as Albert’s words played again “You’re nothing like your sister.”

Lucia with new determination began to speak the incantation aloud as a thunderstorm developed around the kingdom. The storm raged as she read from the page every word. The incantation glowed upon the page as new words formed underneath the spell. Lucia read as it stated that she would be the most beautiful woman. No man would resist her and her beauty would be legendary . However, she would only be beautiful on the outside. Lucia wondered what that meant “only on the outside.”

The spell then began to do its magic as her short blond hair grew to long black locks. Her once nail bitten fingernails grew to beautiful red painted nails. She smiled as she felt her breasts push out as they pushed her corset open. She felt her hips widen and her abdomen tighten. Her stick legs and arms gained muscle and toned as she became more shapely and appealing. Her crooked teeth straightened and whitened as her lips became blood red and inviting. She looked back and giggled as her backside rose and plumped giving a round amazing posterior. She regretted destroying her mirror as she felt her face change and become one of amazing perfection.

It was then she felt uneasy in her stomach. The physical changes were complete but the curse did more than change the outside. Lucia felt her heart grow cold as her mind filled with dark thoughts. Thoughts of revenge, thoughts of conquest, all of them selfish and vain. Lucia felt wicked but it felt so good. She was tempted to touch herself but a more dark idea entered her mind. She called for a guard to assist her.

The guard entered the room and was shocked to find a woman that could not be princess Lucia. She looked a bit older and mature and her eyes held a sinister glimmer. "What is your name?" she purred. “Tristan my Princess.” He stammered. She smiled, "Ah, so you recognize me?” She asked. Tristan swallowed hard as he felt a cold chill run down his spine. "Of course, this is your chamber.” Lucia laughed “But do I look different?” Tristan looked her up and down, taking in her new appearance. He hesitated for a moment, "You look... more beautiful." She smiled and walked closer to him, her hips swaying seductively. "Do you desire me? Tristan?” She whispered in his ear.

Tristan’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as her voice was almost too much. He swallowed hard, feeling a pressure growing in his loins. “Am I more beautiful than my sister?” she asked him, her voice low and sultry. “Y..yes you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He stammered. She smiled, pleased with his answer. She thought of his words “ever seen” it made her wet. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart race beneath her fingertips. “You were the guard for my sister were you not?” she asked, her voice still soft and alluring.

He nodded, unable to take his eyes off of her. She moved even closer, pressing her body against his. Her breasts brushed against his chest, sending waves of desire coursing through him. He wanted nothing more than to take her right there on the floor. "You let her get away with everything, am I right?” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Tristan's heart raced as he felt his control slipping. "Yes, yes I did," he managed to say, his voice barely audible.

She smiled, pleased with his answer. "And now she's gone," she purred, running her fingers through his hair. "And I'm here." She leaned in even closer, her lips brushing against his ear. She turned and brushed her backside against his hardened member as she gyrated her hips. “Ungh … my Princess” Tristan groaned, feeling as if he could explode with desire. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust. She continued to gyrate as she asked him questions. “You never guarded my sister’s door and let her roam about at night because you desired her?” Her hips moved faster, she brought his hands to her breasts as she let out a moan. “Yes and she would pleasure me.” He gasped.

“Did it feel as good as this does?” she asked, her hips moving faster against him. Tristan could hardly speak, his breath coming in ragged gasps as her movements drove him wild. He shook his head, unable to take his eyes off her. “N…no this is s.. much better” he stammered, feeling the pressure in his loins reaching a boiling point. “Will you serve me better than you did her? Can I be your queen?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing.

Tristan could feel his control slipping even further. He nodded frantically, his fingers digging into her flesh as he tried to keep himself from losing complete control. She smiled, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “Yes… you are my queen!” He grunted as he climaxed. Lucia removed herself from Tristan. She looked at him as she bit her lip. “Well look at that I seemed to have made you erupt in your garments.”

Lucia felt powerful and beautiful as Tristan looked at her like a lost puppy. She had never expected to feel this way, to have control over someone so strong and loyal to her sister. She smiled to herself, knowing that she could make him do anything she wanted. “Help me fix my mirror Tristan.” She purred, walking over to the ornate mirror stand on the floor still left from when she threw it to the ground. Tristan nodded, still catching his breath as he hurried to help her.

As Tristan knelt by the broken glass he looked up at Lucia. She was speaking in a weird language while holding a book. "What are you doing?" he asked, still catching his breath. "I'm just making you keep your promise. You see your negligence made me become what I am now. So you deserve to see it the rest of your days.” Lucia continued speaking the ancient words as the glass started to reattach to the mirror. In an instant Tristan was frozen as he watched the mirror magically repair and stand up again. The glass became dark and cloudy as Tristan kept looking deeper into it. He felt his body move forward as he realized Lucia had just pushed him. Tristan fell into the mirror and felt himself engulfed by darkness.

Epilogue

Lucia did become the most beautiful woman in the world.Unfortunately, she had grown cruel and extremely vain. The naive, compassionate woman was no more. Even when suitors came for her hand, she turned them all down. She desired power and all those weak princes did not interest her. She did visit her sister and her brother-in-law’s kingdom. Legend states that when Albert saw Lucia again the regret left him impotent. In all of his kingly duties. The kingdom had no heir and no strong finances and it wasn’t long before his land was conquered by a strong and handsome King. Lucia was quite intrigued by this new powerful ruler but he was already married. Lucia knew that wouldn’t be an obstacle for her. She knew that people get sick and die all the time and the widowed king would soon be her husband. The king’s daughter with his first wife was another obstacle…. And another story.

Lucia is known by another name. The nickname she gained throughout the land highlighted her inside qualities rather than her outward. Lucia heard the name but it didn’t bother her. She loved being feared And desired.

Whatever happened to Tristan? Well he is well known too but just not by his given name. Tristan’s new name Lucia would call out daily as her vanity craved validation.

“Mirror Mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?”

#beautification #transformation #breast expansion #f2f transformation #origin stories #ass expansion #beauty is power

[meaningofaeons]

Hello! Congrats on 500 follows, you deserve it! Can I visit the cat cafe with Gepard to play with a tortoiseshell munchkin + order a hot cocoa? You probably have a ton of other requests atm so feel free to pass!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ weathering the storm

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau ⊹ word count - 746 ⊹ notes - gn!reader, meet cute, reader is implied to be part of an affluent/noble family, soulmate au wherein you have a countdown on your wrist until you meet your soulmate (technically until you get within a close enough proximity to them)

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

hiii! thank you so much omg <3 (ﾐΦ ﻌ Φﾐ)∫ I hope you enjoy your "cat cafe date" with gepard, I had a lot of fun with this one!!

It was a cold day as ever on the ever-frozen planet where you resided, but for some reason, it permeated your flesh even as you ran through the Belobog alleyways.

The monstrous footsteps of the Fragmentum beasts were not far behind, and you were not keen to end your days at the flaming blade of the Shadewalker.

However, as luck would have it, you found yourself backed into a corner. You slumped to the floor, pressed against the stone wall.

As though reveling in your terror, the beast's footsteps slowed, brandishing its weapon menacingly as it prepared to swing the blade down upon your head.

You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

Then, a small chime resounded, and your eyes once again shot open.

Your soulmate counter... had reached zero.

As if on cue (or perhaps perfectly so, considering the way the soulmate counter seemed to interfere with fate itself), several Silvermane Guards had appeared, taking care of the beasts with no small measure of ease.

In the midst of them all stood none other than Gepard Landau, who was now right before your eyes. He had frozen the monster before you to ice, knocking it to the ground as it vanished into ash.

"Are you alright?"

A gloved hand reached for you, and you took it with just the slightest ounce of hesitation. A twinge of recognition shone in ocean blue eyes as he spotted you, but even if he acknowledged it, Gepard made no verbal mention of it.

"I'm... I'm okay."

Was... Was the eldest son of the Landaus your soulmate?

"That's good to hear."

His soft smile sent a shiver down your spine, but not the kind that the violent winters of Belobog instilled within you every day.

No, it was... warm. Oddly so. And it was accompanied by a distinct warmth in your chest, as well.

"Um... I—"

Before you could even get ahead of yourself, ask about the counter upon your wrist, the blonde had summoned over a combat medic among the ranks of his subordinates, asking him to patch up your scrapes.

You felt your heart drop a bit.

Right. There were so many guards here... Sure, you hadn't exactly "met" any of them in the same way as Gepard, but soulmate counters had been known to end after only close proximity, not necessarily a full meeting.

Any one of these guards could be your soulmate, and you hadn't a clue which.

"I'm sorry, you were going to say something?" Captain Gepard questioned kindly, still holding on your hand.

Some part of you dearly hoped that it was indeed he who was your soulmate... but with no way to check his wrist, you figured only to relent for today.

You could ask around later... You had friends in the Silvermane Guards. Surely, you could garner the names of the ones present, and discover which was your soulmate that way.

"No... no, no. I'm okay. Thank you very much for saving me."

"I was only doing my duty. Do you live near here?"

"Yes, I live close by."

Gepard nodded. "As much as I would like to ensure your safety myself, unfortunately I must stay and continue patrolling in case anyone else is in danger. I will send some trusted guards to accompany you, so please be at ease."

"Thank you so much."

And with that, you were led away from the kindhearted Captain, questions swirling in your mind, just waiting for answers.

—

"Sir, your wrist—!"

Gepard paused as his fellow guard spoke up, his eyes going wide.

His subordinate was most likely referring to the small gash left behind after the earlier scuffle, but something else had caught the blonde's eye.

Right in the spot where the Fragmentum monster's weapon had sliced his long-sleeved uniform open, his countdown lay motionless on his flesh, all numbers now at zero.

How long had it been as such?! Certainly not for too long, as he had obviously long since met every guard here—

It hit him.

The Captain whipped his head around at once, but you were long gone, likely already being escorted home by one of his many subordinates.

Despite the lack of surefire confirmation, however, Gepard was almost certain he knew precisely who you were. He tried not to let the heat rising to his cheeks show, lest the fluttering of his heart become obvious to all.

"...I suppose I should pay their family a small visit."

#gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard #gepard landau #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #hsr #honkai #honkai star rail #katze's 500 follower special #katze's cat baret #katze's cat cafe

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Warnings: it's the smut chapter. 18+! Also short mention of violence/blood.

Pairing: Sihtric x modern!you (f)

Summary: part three of this request. (part two here)

Word count: 3.4k

Note: there will be at least one more chapter!

Taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @valeskafics

Chapter 3.

'Fuck?'

******************

You wondered what Sihtric did for a living, so you asked Gisela about the men when you had dinner with her again. She told you about Uhtred, her husband, and how Finan, Sihtric and Osferth were his most loyal men. They were all warriors, who battled to defend their land and their people, but the men also kept Coccham safe when they were home, and Sihtric was often responsible for delivering messages back and forth between the lands and their lords. And you heard her speak of battles, but you didn't really register it.

You cautiously asked Gisela more about Sihtric, as you were curious about his story. She told you how he was a prisoner at first and how he had earned his way to where he is now. And when you heard he was Kjartan's bastard son, you were shocked. He was so kindhearted and adorable, how could he possibly be the product of a man who was Kjartan the Cruel? It baffled you.

Gisela also told you that Sihtric is a sweet boy who had been taken advantage of by the whores, so they all still kept an eye on him when he seemed to chase after a woman. You blushed at that and wondered if anyone suspected you liked him. Gisela never spoke about it, but she was aware. She knew you had been wearing Sihtric's cloak, and she also knew he doesn't just give that to anyone. And as she knew you didn't have your own cloak, she made sure to give you one tonight.

After you had finished your food, you thanked her again and you were moved when Gisela gave you a cloak. It was such a kind gesture, and you felt the people here were so warm and welcoming, unlike where you came from. And again you were walked home by Clapa, which was to become a regular thing.

*******************

You'd been home for a while already when you heard a knocking on your door.

'Sihtric?' you instantly blushed.

'Lady!' he smiled, 'are the rats all gone?'

'I think so, yes,' you chuckled, 'thank you.'

'You're welcome, lady,' Sihtric said and stared at you for a few awkward seconds before he spoke again, 'I- uh, would you… do you want to go with me to- to the alehouse? For a drink? With me?'

'Are you asking me out on a date?'

'W-what?' Sihtric blushed.

Dating was not a thing yet, got it.

'Nevermind,' you smiled, 'sure, I'll join you.' And you thought he couldn't possibly smile any wider than he did now, while he waited for you as you took your cloak and your few coins of silver.

'Look,' you smiled as you threw the warm, blue cloak around your shoulders, 'I have my own cloak now!'

'And it looks beautiful on you,' Sihtric smiled, hiding his disappointment that you wouldn't borrow his cloak anymore, as he had enjoyed your scent lingering in the fur after you returned it.

He was so very in love with you, he could barely take it.

*****************

The alehouse was packed and it had a pleasant atmosphere.

However, you expected to be alone with Sihtric, but it turns out that "having a drink with Sihtric" means having a drink with Finan and Osferth too. But you liked them and it seemed as if they accepted you as a friend too. When Finan wasn't making jokes at the expense of poor Osferth, he would try and flirt with you. And you had to give it to him, many ladies would fall to their knees for him, but there was only one man there who had your interest. And that was the Dane sitting next to you, who was occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, eyeing you up when the others looked away for a moment. There was a new sort of tension between the two of you, and you liked it.

'Okay, well, next round is on me,' you smiled and held up your hard earned silver. And the men definitely didn't say no to a free drink, so you made your way to the bar. As you waited for your order you looked back over your shoulder and found Sihtric already staring at you as he sipped from his cup. You gave him a cheeky smile and he returned the same, after he had licked his lips. And you were amazed by how easily he could change from looking soft and adorable, to looking almost dangerous and sexy. 

While you were still mid smile to Sihtric, you suddenly felt someone grab your ass, which startled you and made you turn instantly. You looked up at a big Saxon man, who could have been your father, and you grimaced at the sight. You wanted to slap him in the face, but you also knew that would cause problems, and the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to you.

You smiled politely at the man before you turned away from him, but that clearly wasn't enough for him and he tried to pull you close, which you fought. You didn't know Sihtric had already jumped up as soon as the man laid his first hand on you, and as you tried to escape the man's grip, you suddenly saw Sihtric harshly shoving the Saxon man away from you as he held a knife up to the man's throat.

'Touching my lady?' Sihtric hissed.

'You- your? I- I didn't know,' the Saxon panicked, 'I would n-never try to take your lady if I had known. I apologise!'

You watched the intense moment with wide eyes, shocked that this escalated so very quickly and also shocked that no one else in the alehouse seemed to pay attention to it. So you suppose this was just another normal night.

'Don't apologise to me,' Sihtric snarled, clenching his jaw as he pushed the knife against the man's throat, drawing a drop of blood.

'I-I am sorry, lady,' the Saxon man said to you, to which you quickly nodded with big eyes.

Then Sihtric let go of him, placing his knife back on his belt while he kept his eyes on the Saxon, who was already making his way out of the alehouse. When Sihtric turned to you, his jaw was still clenched, and it was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen, but you were still quite startled from the interaction that you had no time to swoon.

'Are you okay?' Sihtric asked, his voice calm and eyes soft again as his hands slipped onto your waist. It almost gave you a whiplash from how fast his expressions changed, and you didn't even notice his hands on you yet.

'Y-yeah, I- I guess,' you sighed, confused, 'I think… I think I should go home, eh,' you scoffed lightly, 'this was… it was a lot.' Sihtric watched you intensely as you spoke, and he leaned in closer.

'Did I scare you?' he asked cautiously and sweetly.

You chuckled lightly and looked up at him, his face so close that you could smell the ale on his lips. 

'A little,' you admitted shyly.

'I am sorry, darling,' Sihtric spoke softly, to which you suddenly felt very lightheaded, 'if you wish to go home, I will walk you.'

You accepted his offer, as you didn't want to risk running into the Saxon man on your own. Sihtric was quick to inform Finan and Osferth what had happened, and you saw they jumped up, ready to fight. You chuckled when you saw Finan's disappointed face when Sihtric said he already took care of it. Osferth and Finan both gave you an understanding look as Sihtric walked back to you, taking your hand in his as he walked you out.

Once outside, Sihtric was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, and you didn't mind the sudden affection. And when you all got to process it, it was actually quite a turn on.

'Thank you,' you said, looking up at Sihtric, who still looked more serious than you were used to. He looked down at you and gave you a cheeky smile before he quickly directed his eyes back ahead.

'Am I your lady? I mean… that's what you said to the man, right?'

'Did I?' Sihtric played dumb.

'I think so, yeah,' you smiled shyly.

'Hm,' Sihtric shrugged, that cheeky smile never leaving his face. 

******************

'So, thank you for tonight,' you said as you slowly walked up to your door, 'sorry I wanted to go home this early.'

'It's not a matter of worry, lady,' Sihtric smiled. 

He pinched your cheek lightly, making you giggle before you politely slapped his hand away, causing Sihtric to smoothly intertwine his fingers with yours. And he looked at you with a half smile, eyes trailing up and down your figure to which he slowly bit down on his lip and let out a soft hum. 

You wanted this guy, desperately. You wanted to know all the things he'd do to you and all the ways he'd command you to please him. At least, that is what you imagined he'd be like.

'Do you,' you tried to hide your cheeky smile, 'want to come in and make sure there are no more rats?'

'Anything for you, lady,' Sihtric spoke in a husky voice as he kept his smile, softly tugging at your hand, letting you know he wanted you to lead him inside.

You giggled softly as you pulled Sihtric over your doorstep, into your home, where the candles were still burning from before you had left. He closed the door behind him without looking away from your eyes, and he followed you like a good boy as you led him to your kitchen.

'So… do you see anything?' you smiled playfully, looking up at him while you leaned back against the little kitchen counter, quickly taking off your boots and kicking them away.

'Nothing up here, lady,' Sihtric smirked, 'do you want me to look underneath, just to be safe?'

'You should, yes.'

Sihtric kept his eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved down onto his knees, biting down on his lip as his hands trailed down along your figure. You already felt your breath hitch and he hadn't even done anything yet. You watched his cheeky smile as you felt his warm, rough hands sneak under your dress, caressing your ankles softly as he looked up at you with questioning eyes. 

'Oh, fuck,' you blurted out, realising what was happening. You didn't think he'd be like that. You never had a man who was submissive before, and you certainly didn't expect Sihtric to be submissive. But the way he already had you soaking wet, you didn't care he was not the dominant man you thought he would be, only now you have to improvise.

'Fuck?' Sihtric repeated, a little confused as he smiled, still looking up at you. Oh, you were going to teach that sweet boy some new words today.

You seductively pulled one side of your dress up to your thigh, all while you never looked away from each other's eyes, and you swore you saw his eyes darken. Sihtric moved back slightly as he gently took your exposed ankle in his hands, moving your leg up to match the height of his lips, making sure he could still look you in the eyes as he placed his first, soft kiss onto your bare leg. You had no idea that a man kissing your leg could be so hot. You struggled to keep your eyes locked with him while Sihtric left open mouth kisses all over your leg, slowly kissing his way up from your ankle to your knee, occasionally giving you a mischievous grin after he kitty licked your warm skin in between kisses. And as he kissed his way up, he gradually moved your leg to rest up on his shoulder, softly pecking your skin as his hands worshipped the skin he had just kissed. He hadn't even touched you yet where you so longed for him, but you already couldn't handle it anymore and you threw your head back, gasping for air as you felt his lips smile against your skin.

'Oh, fuck. Sihtric,' you moaned, without any control, and you brushed one hand through his soft hair, 'you're such a good boy, baby,' you smiled and looked back down at him.

Sihtric didn't fully understand everything you said, as some words were new to him, but he knew he was being praised, and that was all he wanted. While you tried to catch your breath you realised Sihtric was still looking up at you, and you figured you probably needed to tell him what to do next.

You moved your hand slowly down his face, and he quickly pecked a few kisses on your palm before you held his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, making him look fully up at you.

'You wish to please me?' you smiled, kind of enjoying this role.

'Yes, lady.'

Oh, god, he still called you 'lady'. You took a deep breath and tried to keep yourself together before you spoke again.

'Will you be a good boy and use your tongue for me?'

'Yes, lady,' he sighed, eagerly, hungry, almost desperately.

You smiled at him as you lifted the entire skirt of your dress up to your hips, revealing that this whole night, you hadn't been wearing any underwear. And Sihtric sighed heavily when he found out. And if he had known before, in the alehouse, he would've found a way to please you, secretly, while surrounded by people. 

You slowly parted your legs, leaning back fully against the counter while your one leg rested upon Sihtric's shoulder, as his rough fingertips trailed softly up and down your other leg. He looked at you, with hunger in his eyes, but patiently awaiting your words. You chuckled softly at his disciplined behaviour, you had no idea you would enjoy it this much.

'I think you know what to do, baby boy,' you smiled. 

And good lord, did he know what to do. Surely, the whores had taken his silver, but they probably taught him a thing or two as well. He licked your sweet spot as if it was the most delicious meal he ever had. 

'Fuck,' you smiled as you heard him moan, 'you feel so good, baby. Oh my god,' you sighed as you laughed, 'so fucking good.'

And it barely took a minute before you bucked your hips as you pushed his face down onto you, both your hands in his hair, pulling his soft short locks as you cried out his name. He knew not to overstimulate you, so he sat back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand after he had spat onto the floor, all while your eyes stayed locked. And then he gave you his cheeky half smile again as he caught his breath. You had never seen a man do it like that before, and it drove you wild. 

You lowered your dress, almost satisfied, and you tried to collect your thoughts on what to do next. You ordered Sihtric over to your bed, where he sat down and pulled you onto his lap after you had taken off your dress.

'Tell me what you like,' you said as you enjoyed his lips on your neck and shoulders.

'I only wish to please you, my goddess,' Sihtric whined as you felt his wet kisses on your neck.

'No, baby,' you chuckled and cupped his cheeks, looking into his love intoxicated eyes, 'I want to know what you like,' you nuzzled his nose softly and pressed your lips against his, realising that this is the first time you finally kissed. And it seems Sihtric realised it at the same time, as he lost his self control and grabbed your face, deepening the kiss as much as he could, and you loved every second of it.

'You,' Sihtric eventually moaned, answering your question, 'I like you,' he kissed you again, quickly becoming sloppy as he couldn't get enough, 'I like you, baby.' That term of endearment was still foreign to him, but you understood he was eager to learn and you loved the way he wanted to keep up with you and your language.

'Call me baby girl,' you sighed against his lips. You saw no harm in throwing in your own favourite term of endearment.

'Okay,' Sihtric smiled, out of breath, 'baby,' he sighed, 'baby girl,' he nearly moaned his words and eagerly kissed you again.

You figured Sihtric was used to being a pleaser, and you weren't complaining, but you wanted to be sure that he enjoyed it as much as you did. But it seemed he wasn't going to tell you what he personally liked.

'Sihtric,' you said softly, pecking his lips and cheeks, 'take off your clothes, baby, I will be right back, okay?'

'Y-You're leaving?' he suddenly asked bewildered.

'No, silly,' you chuckled and kissed him deeply, 'I just need to get something, I promise I will be back before you know it,' you got up as you held his face, 'I promise, so you better hurry with your clothes,' you smiled and kissed him once more before you quickly hopped to the bathroom. 

Well, it wasn't really a bathroom, but it was more or less meant to be one you figured. It's also where you had thrown those fishnet stockings the last time you wore them, which you knew Sihtric had really liked. You found them and quickly put them on, after which you looked down at yourself and snorted. You did look a bit like a whore now, you guessed, as you had nothing on, except for the fishnets. You had never done that before, but then no one ever had pleased you like that before either.

You walked back over to Sihtric, who was just covering himself with the furs on your bed, and when he looked back up at you he smiled with his jaw slightly dropped, completely smitten and shy even. And you had to admit, you were also impressed with his entire being. Even his scars couldn't make him any less handsome.

'What?' you smiled as you sat back onto his lap again, 'you're not getting shy now, are you?' you giggled as your hands enjoyed the feeling of his muscular chest.

'No,' Sihtric blushed lightly as he looked you up and down, simply not understanding what he had done to deserve you.

'Then tell me what you like. What do you want?'

'You.' 

'Where?'

Sihtric thought for a short moment, almost struggling to be the one in charge now, so you gave him time to adjust as you softly kissed his cheek, his jaw and then his neck.

'On the table,' he sighed, before picking you up and carrying you over to your table, where he sat you down and gave you his love-struck smile again as his hands trailed up your legs.

'And now?' you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck, seeing he was loosening up a little.

'N-now?' Sihtric asked, trying to stay collected as you kissed his neck again. 

Then you kissed his collarbone and your lips pecked at his warm skin, softly down to his chest, making him groan as you did. Sihtric wasn't used to this, but he wasn't complaining, he just didn't know what was happening to him.

'Now,' you said again as you brought your lips back to his, 'tell me how you want me now.'

'I-,' Sihtric's head was spinning, trying to understand that whatever was to happen next, was entirely up to him. 

'On... on your back,' he said.

'Like this?' you smiled cheekily as you laid your back down onto the table.

'Y-yeah,' his husky voice faltered, 'like that, b-baby girl.' He almost made you blackout for a moment, and you were happy your back was already on the table.

'And now?' you teased again, to which he took your legs and threw them over his shoulders, making you squeal lightly with surprise and anticipation.

And it didn't take long before you finally felt him inside you, making you lose your mind again as he kissed your legs while thrusting gently into you, hitting all the right spots.

'Oh, shit,' you moaned with a chuckle, 'you like this?' you asked and crossed your ankles behind his neck, locking him in.

'Yeah,' Sihtric breathed heavily, 'I- I like this baby girl.'

'I bet you do, big boy,' you teased, causing his pace to become rough and sloppy for a moment, which made you both laugh.

And it was at that exact moment that it happened. When you heard his laugh while you felt him inside you, and the way he looked at you with that smile before he leaned in to give you a kiss. You just knew it had happened; you'd fallen completely and utterly in love with him.

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk

[ghoulsister1]

🥀♡•♡"Wherefore art thou Dante?"♡•♡🥀

Dante Sparda x Female Reader. Some angst. Hurt/Comfort. There's fluff don't worry. Forbidden Love. Romeo & Juliet inspired. Disapproving parents. Love is powerful. Secret relationship. Eloping. Happy ending.

🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡

Your family have always had a disdain of Sparda and his kin, despite Sparda being a kindhearted and caring demon with a beautiful and sweet human wife and two handsome sons who were twins, but still they hated them. And they would hate you if your family found out about your secret relationship with Dante, younger twin brother of Vergil, son of Sparda.

For years, your family hated demons and devils. They hated what they done to humans and hated the wars raged on them by Mundus. And in particular, they hated Sparda. They despised him despite Sparda betraying Mundus and protecting the humans from harm. They hated him even when he choose to live amongst the humans and married a beautiful woman, Eva. They hated him, even when Eva gave birth to twin sons, Vergil and Dante. They could never let go of their hatred towards demons and Devils, even if there were good Devils in the world.

And you knew, if they found out what you were up to when you snuck out at night, they'd definitely hate you. Possibly even disown you. Because you were in love with Dante, son of Sparda and younger twin brother of Vergil.

You two met at a masquerade ball, hosted by your parents. They had forbade Dante and Vergil from attending, but that didn't stop Dante from planning on crashing it for fun. Vergil warned him not to do it, but Dante being Dante he went along and snuck into the ball with his own masquerade disguise.

His plan was to sneak in and cause a ruckus, maybe switch out the classical music for some heavy metal songs and put them on full blast throughout the speakers. He had a whole plan laid out to wreck this boring party, until he saw you. And you saw him.

You were dressed in a beautiful, white and gold dress adorned with a gorgeous matching masquerade mask. Your hair done up and adorned with a gold laurel leaf crown. You were stunning, an angel sent from above to Dante and his plans of wrecking the party was all forgotten.

You couldn't help but notice Dante, striking white hair, beautiful blue eyes and dressed in striking red with a matching masquerade devil mask. You two stared at each other, both lost in each other's eyes.

Without thinking, Dante spoke.

"You wanna blow this place?" Asked Dante.

"Only if you share a dance with me first" You Replied.

"With a beautiful angel like you? Hell, how could I say no?" Remarked Dante winking. You giggled and soon you two took to a slow dance on the floor, your parents wondering who was this mysterious masked man dancing with you.

"Who is he? That man in the red masquerade get up?" Asked Mother. Father narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know. He looks familiar but I can't say I've seen him. Perhaps it's the hair" Remarked Father. When the dance ended, you two slipped away from prying eyes and snuck outside together, giggling and laughing all the way.

You spent that wonderful night with Dante under the stars, getting to know one another and sharing a few laughs. However, when the party ended and your family went looking for you, Dante fled into the night, leaving you with a promise to return again.

And the next night, he visited. You snuck out and even went into the city with him, took you to a diner where you and him shared a strawberry milkshake and some burger and fries. You wished this night wouldn't end and wanted to stay longer with the charming half-Devil, but sadly you knew your family would come looking and so with a reluctant sigh, Dante returned you home.

"Promise me, we'll still hang out together? Promise me you'll return" You Pleaded as you snuck back up to your bedroom balcony.

"I promise!" Whispered Dante and with a wink, he was gone into the night once more. You giggled and felt your heart flutter at just the mere thought of him as you lay in your bed that night, the sweet taste of strawberry milkshake still on your lips.

This continued for many nights and with each passing day, your love for each other grew. You hoped with time, maybe your parents might hear of Dante's good deeds and look upon him more favorably. But alas, that was not the case.

"Did you hear about that rogue Devil in red running amok? Causing nothing but damage to our city!" Spat Mother angrily.

"But he's just trying to keep the people safe from the demons and devils that try and hurt us!" You Argued. Mother laughed bitterly.

"You are much too young and naive to understand. He is the son of Sparda, a Hell spawn half-breed. He belongs in Hell with his family" Remarked Mother bitterly. Your heart clenched at such a harsh remark, knowing that only Dante and Vergil were the only ones left of Sparda's bloodline, Eva died during a demon attack and Sparda had vanished, presumably held captive or killed by Mundus. You knew Dante and Vergil still felt the pain of that tragedy.

"Mother, how can you say such cruel words? Don't you know those brothers still bear the scars of the tragedy that befell their mother?" You Asked, holding your hand over your chest.

"Don't feel sympathy for those Devils my child, they are nothing but monsters and god forbid should you associate with them. The very thought of you mingling with those vile creatures makes my blood run cold. You aren't in league with the Sparda twins are you?" Asked Mother, eyeing you suspiciously.

You shook your head.

"No Mother" You Replied.

"Good. The last thing I want is for my daughter to be tainted by such unholy creatures" Remarked Mother. You said nothing. It was clear that your parents still held deep hatred for Sparda and his sons.

You still continued to see Dante in secret, making sure to always keep a low profile, especially when in the city. He took you to Love Planet and though not the most romantic of places, he did make you laugh by swinging on the dance pole.

"You've got moves that's for sure!" You Laughed.

Dante chuckled along with you.

"Glad you enjoyed my little show for you" Remarked Dante sending a flirtatious wink that made you blush and giggle.

"Oh Dante" You Giggled as Dante sat beside you, wrapping an arm around you.

After a few drinks, you two shared your first kiss. It was sweet, passionate and very hot all at the same time. When the kiss broke, you were breathless.

"Wow!" You Giggled.

"I was thinking about doing that all day" Admitted Dante, a pink blush coming to his cheeks.

"Oh Dante, I love you but how are we to be together? My parents hate you and should they find out about us......God I shudder to think what they'd do to me.....to us" You Admitted sadly. Dante held you close, comforting.

"We'll find a way babe. We'll find a way. One day you and me will find a way to be together. No one will stop us" Promised Dante.

"You promise?" You Asked.

"I promise babe" Assured Dante.

And that night as you snuck back in, you still felt the lingering kiss on your lips.

One morning you awoke to the most dreadful news. You were to be married off to a wealthy man's son. You cried in your bedroom all day and night, dreading the awful future that surely was to come, until a pebble at your window caught your attention. You came out on to the balcony and saw Dante, smiling.

"Let me come in Y/N!" Whispered Dante. You wiped away your tears and allowed him to climb up and join you in your bedroom.

"You've been crying. What's wrong?" Asked Dante noting your tear streaked face.

"Oh Dante it's awful, I'm to be married off to some rich man's son and though I tried to protest, they wouldn't listen to me! I don't want to marry him! I wanna be with you! We don't have to marry if you don't want to but I just wanna spend my every waking morning and every sleeping night with you Dante! I love you, I don't want to lose you" You Sobbed.

Dante held you in his arms as you cried. It was then a plan had formed in his head. It was a huge risk but it's now or never.

"Then pack whatever essentials you need, whatever you consider valuable and let's leave together" Advised Dante.

"Tonight?" You Asked unsure.

"Tonight. We don't have much time. It's now or never Y/N. I don't wanna lose you either. I love you" Admitted Dante.

You smiled softly at your lover and he smiled back.

"So what do you say?" Asked Dante.

"Let us leave" You Answered.

That night, Dante helped you pack a bag and you two ran off into the night hand in hand together. No matter how hard they tried, your parents couldn't reach you or Dante. You both were left alone in peace.

And you two lived together, happily for years to come.

🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡🥀♡

Thanks again for requesting @xx-scene-queen-of-vampires-xx and I hope you enjoy the story! Thank you!

#dante #dante son of sparda #dante sparda #dante x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry 3 #devil may cry dante #devil may cry x reader #devil+may+cry+x+reader #story requests #thanks for requesting!

[ivyprism]

My Outcode Skeleton Boys (Info Dump: Revamp)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, killing, violence, etc.

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Tusche - Ink Sans (Variant)

Personality: Tusche once awoke in the antivoid with his brother as a baby's bones. He has no remembrance of his AU before waking up. He became the universe's guardian because he was committed to safeguarding his sibling. He is a gentle and sweet skeleton who strives to do the right thing, but he is often misguided. He is terrified and apprehensive when he feels numb and wants to avoid getting dust on his hands. He can be a little naughty and cruel, but it's not intentional. He appreciates the creators and wants to know more about them. He enjoys pranking people, but not very often.

Appearance: Tusche has a bunch of dried ink bloches on his bones. He has creative changing eyelights. He also has a tan scarf that has rainbow ends.

Acrylic - Inktale Papyrus (Variant)

Personality: Raised by his brother, he has no desire to know his former AU. He, like his brother, is a prankster and mischievous skeleton. He works hard and is willing to fight people if necessary. He spends his free time painting and blending acrylic paints. He enjoys reading writers' works. He is a bit of a dirty painter, frequently getting paint on himself. To his brother's dismay, he avoids generating problems by spending the most of his time with Virus. He thinks creators are cool and hopes to meet as many as possible. He primarily talks and sketches. He chooses his fights very carefully.

Appearance: He is a skeleton monster with acrylic paint on him and ink.

Lenovo - Errortale Sans (Variant)

Personality: Lenovo awoke in the anti-void with a younger brother not long after Tusche did. They created a fierce competition with the colorful skeleton. He's a nasty, merciless skeleton. He shows little interest in the AUs. He is ferocious and protective of his loved ones, despite his icy and harsh exterior. He despises being touched without first asking permission. He prefers to be alone and makes few acquaintances; when he does, it is entirely inadvertent. He may build and destroy, but he primarily destroys. He recognizes the need of maintaining a balance and makes an effort to do so.

Appearance: He also has a blue scarf on his neck. He has blue marks on his cheeks. His jacket has ripped and resewn patches.

Virus - Error Papyrus (Variant)

Personality: He is a cold and aloof skeleton, but he is incredibly curious. He gets easily lost and lacks sense of direction. He's mainly interested in meeting new people and speaking with them. He feels nervous around others and dislikes social events. Mostly, he has a tense connection with his brother. He is inquisitive about many minor details and adores and admires the AUs, whom he would prefer not to damage if possible. He also guarantees that his sibling never tampers with particular items. He also enjoys crocheting. He contributes to Lenovo's fight. He doesn't care to learn about his old au.

Appearance: He is a tall skeleton with orange markings on his face.

Bliss - Dream Sans

Personality: A very kindhearted and sensitive SOUL, working to make amends with his sibling. He feels terribly sorry, but he knows that he cannot blame himself because he was unable to protect his brother from the locals and was unaware of the cruelty. He is working hard to make apologies and bring his brother back into the light. He understands he will never see his brother again, but he expects to see a resemblance of him. He isn't afraid to hurt people in order to protect his loved ones and wishes to stop his brother, but he recognizes that he requires negativity as much as optimism to survive.

Appearance: He has gold spots all over his bones and he has freckles. He also has wings, but he prefers they stay hidden.

Dusk - Nightmare Sans

Personality: A nasty and cold-hearted man who, in reality, is really loving and not as frigid as he appears. He adores his brother but can't forgive him. He's not sure why he can't let go of something Bliss couldn't stop, but just thinking about it makes him angry, and his main dread is revisiting the terror of what happened to him with the people. He bears profound anger toward Bliss. Despite appearances, he can be really nice and has a soft spot for some children. He knows he needs negativity to survive, therefore he thrives on it with the help of his group.

Appearance: Dusk is a goop skeleton, but it's entirely optional. He prefers to be in his goop state to intimidate and scare off foes and only shows his normal passive side to his partner.

Comet - Dream Papyrus

Personality: He's a cheerful, eager skeleton. He adores his family and wishes to mend the rifts among his brothers. He is gentle, kind, and caring. But don't be fooled: he can and will flirt with you till you're red-faced. He genuinely cares for his brothers and will go to great lengths to protect them. On the other hand, he is typically shy and withdrawn because he is not a fan of inflicting harm on others. He is constantly looking at the stars and enjoys drawing. He enjoys creating his fantasies and doing his best to look after his siblings. He truly cares about each of them and simply wants to help them.

Appearance: He is a skeleton monster. He has golden positivity on his torso. He has wings that he hides. Comet has a simple small scar on his left cheekbone.

Umbra - Nightmare Papyrus

Personality: He has a rough yet frigid personality. He is a modest yet powerful man who adores his friends and family. He often looks after his brothers and his loved ones. However, he is on the verge of becoming enemies with certain individuals. He is soft, pleasant, and flirtatious, but he is genuine. He may not have as much goop as his brother, but he does have some. It's only that it's hard to see and just affects his torso. He typically keeps it buried until absolutely necessary. He adores his brothers and avoids getting involved in the quarrel between them.

Appearance: He is a skeleton monster who has a large chunk of negativity goop on his torso and arms. He also has a scar on his left eye that is diagonal.

Spiro - Killer Sans

Personality: Killer is thoughtful. He works hard and is really flirtatious. He really adores battles. He adores killing and inflicting pain on others. He defends his loved ones when necessary, and he is not hesitant to go for the throat. He despises being insulted and is a typically bad character who will fight till the end. He is more at ease with the truce and is more willing to make friends. He feels genuinely sorry for what he has done (deep down) and is quite unstable depending on the scenario, but he learns to push through it. He strives to ignore and dismiss any remaining thoughts of guilt.

Appearance: He is a skeleton with a large scar on his left eye. He has black markings on below his eyes.

Dagger - Dust Sans

Personality: He is a very sorry and rather disturbed individual. When someone attempts to touch his brother's scarf, he becomes aggressive and upset. He is overcome with remorse and struggles to get through the day. He can be homicidal and has a grudge toward the bulk of mankind (particularly genocide perpetrators). He is refraining from causing harm to others as part of a truce. He doesn't admit it, but he does occasionally envy others. He is working to get through his guilt and anger. He is learning to deal with what he has done.

Appearance: He has a void face and a scar on his left eye.

Wraith - Phantom! Dust Papyrus

Personality: He is a relatively cheery and serene skeleton. He maintains Dagger cool and appears to have a deep hatred of violence. He truly cares about his brothers and will go to great measures to protect them. His emotions have been softened by his death, yet he still feels them and wants his brother would let go. He cares about his sibling and is continuously concerned about him. He is stern and frigid when it comes to direct threats, yet he does his best to believe in others. He believes in humanity, but reluctantly.

Appearance: He is a skeleton with a large scar on his chest. You can touch him, but he's cold to the touch.

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Ink Sans by Mye Bi (Comyet) Error Sans by Lover of Piggies Dreamtale by Jokublog Killer Sans by Rahafwabas Dusttale Sans by Ask-DustTale

#dreamtale #inktale #boys #lots of them #errortale #dusttale #killer sans #nightmare sans #dream sans #ink sans #outfits #ut au headcanons #ut au imagines #undertale imagines #undertale au headcanons #undertale headcanons #error sans #error papyrus #nightmare papyrus #dream papyrus #ink papyrus

[lumaxramblings]

max + the sinclairs is actually So .

thinking of max knowing and loving lucas but being so afraid of the latter, being so deathly terrified of being known because being known causes rejection but he holds every part of her—the meanness and the sadness and the hurt and the rough edges—and holds it up to the light unflinchingly. about how he holds every part of her so gently, like he could never dream of hurting her heart despite how many cracks are already in it and she begins to heal and she's still scared because wounds can be torn open all over again.

thinking of max appreciating erica's sass but not being able to help worry about her, because one day that witty tongue is going to lead her to bad places, places that could leave bruises on wrists and a bitter feeling in the back of her throat. despite her snarky exterior she's as sweet and kindhearted as her brother and max knows she can handle herself but worries all the same because she's seen so little of the world and max knows how naivety gets chewed up in the real world.

thinking of max loving mrs. sinclair but being unable to handle the affection she handles out so freely in the world, unable to compute when she puts an affectionate hand on her cheek. she asks for help with baking and max barely remembers baking with her own mom and it makes her sad and sue'll rescind the offer. no matter how many times she tells max "call me sue, honey" max can't just because sue is too close to susan and she feels, if she thinks of mrs. sinclair in any motherly way, like she's betraying her own mom, who works hard (she thinks so, anyways) for her, and if she thinks too hard for how mrs. sinclair makes her feel happier and warmer than her mom's ever made her feel she'll break down.

lastly, thinking of max and mr. sinclair and the hesitance. max knows of fathers—of waiting at bus stations for hours and watching the cars go by and knowing dad was trying his best but it wasn't enough because he never came at the right time. max knows of fathers—of men with hard blue eyes as cold as a rippling sea, of oceans filled with dangerous creatures and currents that can drag you away no matter how much you dig your heels into the sand, whose knuckles are bruised from punching his son on the nose and being terrified he'll come after her next. mr. sinclair, and neil and billy are nothing alike, not in appearance, nor in demeanour, but there's something in her, some subconscious part she's developed over the years, that just screams danger. he never shouts, he never gestures, he never grabs lucas or erica's shoulders too tight and he'll laugh and chuckle at their banter. the worst it gets is when erica and lucas's petty arguments goes too far and he'll tell them to knock it off. he's so sweet and kind and lucas says he's the best dad in the world and max is happy for him, she is, but she's unsure of what to think. of her own dad, of her stepdad, and of the dad that she feels bad for flinching around.

#long post #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #lumax #erica sinclair #sue sinclair #charles sinclair

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whoa you like Nuada too? I can’t pass this up! Can you please write Nuada with a reader who is cheerful individual? I like grumpy x sunshine ships 😆 I feel he wouldn’t know how to go about it and more confused when he falls for reader (Gender neutral pls)

Of course I like Nuada anon! How could I not?! I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.🦦 also this is long as shit. I got carried away…no I won’t apologise.

Nuada first heard of you whilst being held captive at the BRPD through Nuala, whom had met you earlier that day through your mutual love of literature. And according to his sister you were a bright, bubbly, happy and warm individual who made her feel welcomed and included the moment she came to the Bureau; even going so far as to gift her with a poetry book with a cerulean blue cover.

It was actually a personal possession of yours but due to never haven gotten to read it, you had decided that it would serve Nuala far better than it ever did you. Nuala naturally refused to accept it but, you were persistent that she’d have it as you would rather have it be well loved and read than sitting on a cold, lonely shelf collecting dust.

‘They’re such a delight to talk to brother.’ Nuala began, clutching the poetry book with the cerulean cover close to her chest as though it were a priceless treasure, which to her it very much was.

‘They’re human dear sister, this persona they’ve put on is probably a trick, an illusions of sorts to lure you into a false sense of security.’ Nuada warns, not as trusting towards humanity as Nuala was. Giving? Warm? Welcoming? These were traits that the elven prince would’ve never associated with humans. Ever. It just sounded too far fetched to think that such a kindhearted and selfless person could ever have existed. Nuada only knew humanity for their glutinous greed, so such simple acts of kindness as gifting someone a poetry book, would do very little to change his perspective on the entirety of mankind.

Nuala frowns. ‘You haven’t even met them and yet you refuse to give them a fair chance. I understand your grievances towards humans but all I ask of you, dear brother, is that you learn to trust one, even if that one happens to be y/n.’ Nuala pleaded with Nuada, holding out on a spark of hope that with your influence, Nuada’s heart will no longer be veiled in shadows. Nuala truly believed that if anyone could come close to doing just that, it would be you, she just knew it.

Nuada merely scoffs at the notion his sister has in you being the one to unveil his heart of the pain and suffering. While he may have once bended to his twins every plea, this was one he could not find himself willingly doing so and the look upon Nuala’s face told him that she was very much made aware of that fact and wordlessly left.

Nuada wouldn’t get to experience you in your entirety until the BRPD decided that Nuada was trusted to head out on missions as your partner, they too also had some inclination that your bright and sweet persona would not only run off on Nuada but also soften his resolve against all of humanity; an request that would take a lot out of you.

‘You must be Prince Nuada. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.’ You said, barely able to contain your excitement at finally being given a partner. Sure the stories you’ve heard about the elven prince were…less then enlightening, framing him as an angry and vengeful being incapable of change, but the ones you’ve heard from Nuala however painted Nuada as a somewhat tragic figure.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother smile, if he even smiled at all.’ Nuala would say as a saddened look came across her face before she looked over at you when you abruptly grabbed her hand, face set in serious determination.

‘I’ll try and get him to smile more for you.’ You said.

‘It’s an impossible feat.’ Nuala counters but you weren’t having any of it.

‘Then I’ll just keep trying until I do, no matter how long that may take.’ You replied, staying strong to your conviction.

‘Why. Why would you go out of your way to do something for someone you barely even know?’ Nuala asked, feeling your strength, determination, heart and more theough just holding your hand alone. It was overwhelming of hoe bright you were that Nuala swore she would soon be blinded by your light alone, however it was because of your power of will that gave her hope, hope that you’ll might just do what she had long since believed to be impossible.

You merely smiled and relied with, ��because even the strongest of us deserve to smile and like you said, you don’t remember the last time that you’ve seen your brother smile. So leave that to me and I promise to have Nuada smiling soon.’

And you always meant your promises. Always. What you wasn’t expecting was how handsome Nuada actually was. No one had bothered to tell you prior that your partner was a true beauty. A beauty with a piercing set of golden eyes and desirably soft, silky hair that fell past his shoulders in a platinum blonde waterfall. He held an air about him that made you both nervous and excited, however you had to quickly remind yourself that he wasn’t going to warm up to you nearly as quickly as you’d hoped.

Nuada on the other hand was immediately blindsided by your personality. It was so vibrant, colourful and filled to the brim with radiant life that he was certain that he looked rather dull and lifeless in comparison. It also looked as though his sister was right about many things in regard to your character, however that didn’t warrant Nuada to immediately start trusting you like she had wished for, after all you were still a human at the end of the day.

‘I’m-‘

‘Y/n. I’m aware.’ Nuada cuts you off abruptly before you could properly introduce yourself.

You made a face. ‘How-‘

‘My sister speaks highly of you,’ you began to smile at that but Nuada wasn’t finished, ‘but I have yet to witness what’s so special about you.’ You merely shrugged and answered with your entire chest. ‘You will soon enough. I promised your sister to get you to smile after all.’ Nuada’s brows raised at this but before he could get you to elaborate on that further, it was already time to head out for your first mission as a partnership.

Your first mission had turned out to be an avid success that it would only stand to reason to keep sending you and Nuada out as a team. You worked extremely well together and your fighting styles complement each others, while also concealing any weak spots that the other may have almost seamlessly. You and Nuada both complement missions in quick and swift succession. That was out in the field however, the way you acted towards Nuada afterwards made him feel a weird warmth within his chest.

You would often note of how Nuada fell a good distance behind everyone else after group missions, and so you would then fall to the back of the group also -not wanting him to be alone- before naturally falling into step with him, all the while still adhering to giving him his own personal space. You didn’t force a conversation with him like he expected you to, but instead allowed a calming silence to befall the pair of you as you headed home; Which was something he was oddly grateful to you for as he wasn’t that much of a conversationalist after battle.

However he couldn’t help but wonder why you were putting in so much effort into him. He hated your kind and yet you’ve treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. You didn’t push his boundaries, you didn’t overstay your welcome but even long after you left his side, Nauda could still feel your lingering warmth within every breeze that passed him by. Nuada just didn’t get why you were so hellbent on your promise to his sister, was it truly that important for you to help fulfil Nuala’s wish? And if so, what was it that she had said at the time for you that solidified your need to see it through film the end?

While Nuada had to admit, it was quite admirable that you kept to your word but some days he couldn’t help but question whether if that was your sole reason for sticking so close to him. Whether or not he’d ever confront you about it was his to debate upon later, but as for now he decided against it; His pride would never allow him to indulge in such thoughts and ideations that weren’t remotely relevant to hating humans.

Nuada had also noticed that after being your partner for a while, he had developed a need to protect you from all harm. At first he thought that if you died on a mission, the fault would fall onto him and he would be put back into confinement until further notice, but he soon learned that wasn’t actually the case; Far from it actually that he soon found himself sitting across from his sister to discuss about it.

‘Sounds like you have grown fond of y/n, brother.’ Nuala had said, smiling as she relishes in the times that Nuada obviously expressed interest in you without knowing it, but luckily that’s when the link they share makes situations like these a whole lot more simpler to navigate.

‘I merely find them more tolerable than others.’ Nuada defends, crossing his arms over his chest, still heavily in denial that anything he felt for you could possibly go beyond the realms of being cordial with one another. Yet that didn’t explain the sting in his chest whenever you were as joyful and excitable with anyone who wasn’t him, almost as though he wanted you to only beam that bright for him and him only.

‘Then why do you feel at peace with them near? Has their light finally unveiled your heart?’ Nuala asked and this time Nuada stayed silent for a longer period of time as he was beginning to realise that yes, you did infect have unveiled his heart from the shadows he cast over it. What scared him however was how you had done it. You constantly showed him patience during the times where he needed it, showed him understanding when he talked about his feelings, something he hadn’t done as much before meeting you; you even showed him solidarity for the times where he needed someone to stand by his side.

You had changed Nuada’s way of life in small but meaningful ways that there came a day where he starts to hate the fact that he had come this far without the gentle guidance of your voice for him to follow unto a better path. However despite acknowledging that you play a pivotal part in his current life, doesn’t mean that made Nuada’s understanding of his feelings any clearer than they were when he first discovered them.

‘They make me feel things I’d never thought I’d feel again Nuala.’ He began, knowing that whatever he said to his sister would be kept solely between them. ‘I’ve been lost admits my need for revenge that even the fluttering in my chest, or the warmth that reaches my cheeks feels foreign to me now.’ He adds, taking the time to remember the first time he felt something towards you that wasn’t explicit hatred for being human. ‘It feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time and I can’t help but become addicted of sorts, that whenever they smile at me-‘

‘You hope that they smile at you like that forever.’ Nuala interrupts her brother softly, already quite well acquainted either that feeling from the times she felt Nuada’s emotions through the link.

‘Yes.’ Nuada said in an almost whisper. ‘I wish to be the reason y/n smiles as much as they are mine.’ Nuala couldn’t help but express her happiness for this new stage of Nuada’s life, all she wanted was for her brother to be happy and she was made even happier at the fact that it was you who made him the happiest he’s ever felt in a long time.

‘We shall get through this together brother.’ Nuala reassured, feeling her brothers’ still prevalent confusion, making Nuada look back at her, ‘then soon everything else will fall into place. You just have to put faith in the hope that y/n will be there to catch you when you fall.’

Nuada was still confused about everything but with hi sisters help, he hopes to surely get a clearer understanding of what he was currently feeling before confronting you about it.

#prince nuada x you #prince nuada x reader #prince nuada imagines #prince nuada imagine #nuada x you #nuada imagines #nuada x reader #nuada imagine

[https-capri]

AlbedoxAfab!reader

CW: fem! bodied reader, mentions of masturbation, slight overstim, petnames (darling, angel, love), cervix fucking if you squint hard enough, smut (obv), porn with plot

A/n: sorry this took so long!! I'm used to writing more dominant readers because, me. Hehehe but I want to write another Xiao smut but I'm not sure how, because I can see him subby, mean, bratty nd all that. Still thinking abt who my next should be tho. Anywho, enjoy my dears <333

Albedo loved and adored you, you knew that much. Only sometimes he'd pay you any mind, though. More often than not, he'd be too focused on his studies to even offer you a welcome, or a glance at that. If you were having a bad day, you'd approach him from behind, wrap your arms around his torso and hug him, resting your head lazily in the crook of his neck. The most you'd get out of him was a hum of acknowledgment, or a sigh.

You know he's overworked, but why'd he agree to getting together if he had no time for you, you felt neglected and useless. It's as if you were simply tossed into a corner, but maybe it was your fault, you never once dared to complain about something regarding your relationship, goodness no, surely the man was far too busy to care. Does he also not know how he leaves you achingly wet, fluttering soft and gentle touches on your legs and proceeding on as if it were nothing. There was a certain instance, when you and him were alone, Sucrose venturing out of the cavern for supplies. Nothing in the atmosphere changed, though.

You remained seated on a table near Albedo, swinging your feet and watching his movements. His hair elegantly pulled back into a braided ponytail, some fluffy locks still flowing free of the band, the color of warm sand enclosing your body at the beach. His captivating eyes, focusing on his study radiated love, concern and care all in the shade of a bright blue. His soft skin that gently reflected the light shining on him. He was so perfect, it was a scene you easily could've drooled over. Catching your eyes from the corner of his, he glanced up from his tubes, potions and notes, offering you a gentle smile while sliding his chair in front of you. The undivided attention gave you butterflies, he rested his hands in your thighs, your swinging legs coming to a halt.

"Need anything, dear?" He asked in that oh so soft voice of his. Making you internally scream in your head. So gentle, always a hint of care in the words he spoke.

"Mm, nope. Don't let me bother you 'bedo. Looked like you were working real hard." You commented, smiling gently and tucking a piece of hair behind his ear to get the best view of his eyes locked on yours.

"You're never a bother to me." He quickly counters. Rubbing your thigh before sliding his wheeled chair back to his original place, in front of his desk. You wished he'd notice you more, it feels like more of a crush than a relationship, but you don't want to be needy. However, being that he was your boyfriend, you had thought about him in a rather lewd manner more than once. You'd catch yourself zoning out while staring at his frail, thin hands. Imagining them traveling up and down your body, stopping to cup your chest and he'd bend down to kiss you over his desk. Him scrapping all of the material on it just to fuck you senseless.

You could only dream, though. How could such a pure, kindhearted man like him think such dirty thoughts? You slowly crept nearer to the sofa he had in his workshop, sitting on it with one knee bent and the other hanging off the side, sliding a blanket on you. You considered a nap, but couldn't stop thinking about that daydream of him touching you. Only had you not realized how late it had gotten, too lost in the reality you created in your head to see the sun descend and the stars appear. This has happened before, spending the night with Albedo, I mean, but this was different. You were horny, for him, and you were expected to sleep next to him. Slipping from under the blanket, you turn to Albedo's figure, outlined with the light of his lamp, nearly the only light source left now that the sun has set. Maybe it wasn't too late to go home? You hear Albedo hum as he turns to you, getting his attention.

"Going home?" Albedo questions, putting his pen down and getting up.

"Erm.. not sure, it's looking a little nasty out there with the snow and all-" you comment, the both of you looking out to the snow beating down on the ground.

"Agreed, love, why don't you stay the night here?" He offers, briefly going back to the room he has his personal items in, returning with 2 mugs of tea for the both of you.

"Sure it won't burden you?" You softly ask, hoping you weren't overwhelming him by staying the night.

"Of course not, you never do." Albedo replies sternly, beginning to collect his belongings into a small pile so he can prepare for the night.

"Why don't you settle yourself down and I'll meet you in bed 'kay?" He ushers, making his way back to his room. As you'd expect, he didn't think as much of it compared to you. Just from your thoughts alone, you were soaked in your own wetness, clenching your thighs to prevent it from getting anywhere. You tend to be prepared when visiting Albedo, given that he spends most of his time in one of the more dangerous regions of Mondstadt, meaning that you have a change of clothes. Still, you opted to wear one of his bigger shirts and some shorts you had brought for sleepwear. Quietly stepping into his room, you feel the drastic change in temperature, it was nice. There was warmth, it was simply decorated and had all the enjoyable luxuries for a cold climate. You felt your way around the dark room and simmered down in bed next to Albedo, who was nearly asleep now.

The heat between your legs was not lessening, and you were growing restless. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, hoping to not wake your dear beloved, you lay still on your back. You nervously swallow and inch your hand to the hem of your shorts and nearer to your panties. Snaking a hand inside, your fingers find your wet folds, dragging a hand up from your center, you begin rubbing slow circles on your puffy clit. Other hand covering your mouth in attempts to stay quiet. Grinding your hips into the touch of your fingers, feeling every bit of pleasure as your hips stutter. Wetness allowing your fingers to glide through your slits, rubbing sloppy circles over your throbbing bud. It feels so much more difficult to stay quiet in this type of situation. You feel your lover shift, now facing you, his eyes flutter open.

"Dearest? Is everything alright?" Albedo questioned, reaching a hand out to feel where you were in the dark room.

Heavy breaths left your mouth, face feeling as if it were burning you muffle out a sound of approval, Albedo still not convinced. He reaches behind him to turn on the small lamp on his bedside table, seeing your face blown into a deep state of lust.

"Y..y/n what's wrong?" Albedo asked, more confused than anything, still speaking in a groggy voice after abruptly waking up.

"Al-bedo.. please, I want you" you whine, half moaning, terribly embarrassed.

"Huh?" Albedo asks again, concerned.

"I've been thinking of you since earlier while you were in the lab, and I think it.. turned me on." You say, quieting your voice towards the end. Albedo lets out an airy laugh, shifting his whole body to you, and moving a hand to your waist.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Albedo." You confess, guilt heavy in your tone.

"Don't apologize, angel. We have all of tomorrow to rest." Albedo assures, hand gliding on the shape of your waist back and forth, slightly raising your shirt in the process.

He nears his face to yours, closing the space between he locks his lips in a kiss with you. Hungrily, he moves himself on top of you, leg falling in between yours, nearly meeting your sopping womanhood. Quickly whining in response, Albedo slips his tongue into your mouth, experimentally feeling around the inside. You grind down onto his leg, humping it in attempts to gain more friction. Albedos hands grew shakey as they begin to undress you of your top. Upon removal, Albedos face flushes a bright red at the sight of your chest. He glances quickly at you through lidded eyes before making contact with one of your breasts, suckling on it. His tongue swirls shapes of all kinds on your skin, feeling it grow tighter as he leaves love bites throughout the section of skin.

"Ah!~ Albedo, yes.." you whine, hands engulfed in the strands of his soft hair. Your center begins aching at the lack of touch, edging yourself further as you allow Albedo to take his time pleasuring you. Him caressing the mounds of your chest, thumbs tracing over the bump of your hardened nipples, mewls leaving your mouth in response to his touches.

"Hmm, I wonder.. would my darling angel like this..?" Albedo teases, face lowering to your center, his delicate fingers trapping your shorts in between them, pulling them down along with him. Your legs grow weak as Albedo breaths warm air on your throbbing cunt, soaked all for him. Albedo hums in delight, licking a strip from your hole to your clit, flicking his tongue on the nub.

"'Bedo~!" You incoherently moan in need for him.

"Ah!! Ah-! Please cum in me! Put it in..!" You beg, no longer being able to wait for the neglect your hole was receiving.

"Patience, princess. I'll take good care of you, promise." Albedo coos, eyes locking with yours while his tongue still works circles on your clit, a hand nearing your hole. Eyes clasped shut, you feel a finger enter you, curling in a fast pace.

"Ahhn!!~" you moan in bliss, back arching as you mentally plead for more fingers. Much to your pleasure, Albedo adds another finger, both curling in sync as wet squelching noises are heard from your cunt. How filthy. Mouth agape, only inaudible words were able to leave, overwhelmed from the pleasure feeling like you were going to cum any second. The knot in your stomach was so tight, you had your thighs around Albedos head as if he were trying to leave. His free hand trailed up your torso and back to your chest, where he fondled one of your boobs in his hand.

"'M gonna~ ah~ Al-bedo!! 'M gonna cum!!" You squeak, voice high from loud moans.

"'S that right? My pretty little doll 's gonna cum for me?" Albedo questions, lips latched onto your clit as his pace quickens.

"Cum for me, love" he adds, your vision blurry from the tears, hips snapping as they begin jolting from your orgasm. Gripping the sheets behind you, you feel the tears that have previously built up fall, feeling pure satisfaction as your orgasm calms. You're left staring at Albedo in awe, him still between you, unreadable smile plastered on his gorgeous face as he wipes your juices from his chin with the back of his hand. Looking up at you as he licks off the rest. Albedo moves his hand behind your head, gently massaging your scalp as he attaches his soft damp lips to your neck, licking up and down. You turn your head, allowing more access and let a whimper fall from your lips. You pull away from Albedo to begin undressing him, entranced by his lean figure. He comfortingly smiles and pulls you into a hug.

Though, the lack of innocence remains as you feel him grind onto you, prominent boner erect in his pants. You gasp, hand flying to where his tent once was, face immediately heating up. Placing a peck on your lips, Albedo stands back up, placed between your legs, sliding down the remainder of clothes on his lower half you can see his hard cock. Sprung to his stomach, leaking precum from its slit as it bobs in anticipation. You bite the inside of your cheek, clenching your thighs together feeling your cunt begin to throb, the sensation of butterflies invading your stomach. You look away bashfully, Albedo looking at you with love while slowly spreading your legs , rubbing them assuringly in the process. You obliege and leave your legs open for him, Albedo rubbing the tip of his cock on your slick pussy, him groaning at the feeling.

"F-feels good" you mutter, shyly looking up at your lover as he smiles in response.

"Good."

Albedo moves a hand on your lower abdomen, placed so his thumb can rub circles over your clit as he eases his erection into you.

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you bite your tongue in attempts to not moan. Albedo in response taking your hands and pinning them above your head as he drags himself back out achingly slow, stopping so he can slam himself back into you.

"auuhh~!! A-Albedo!!" You moan, sounding more like a cry as tears begin to reform in the corners of your eyes.

Albedo forms a pace fast enough to feel the knot in your stomach rebuild, center clenches tight enough around him to create a ring of your cum around his cock.

"Mm fuck.. yes, squeeze me just like that baby, feels so good" Albedo groans, beginning to fuck you at an animalistic pace, chasing his own high. His thumb, however, never left your clit and had been rubbing circles on it through the entirety of him entering you. And you were going to cum again, soon. Whimpering, you wrapped a hand around Albedos wrist, unbearable pleasure making it impossible for you to speak, only moans and whimpers leaving your mouth as it hung open. Albedo, hardly noticing your hand continued fucking you, thrusts getting harder as each pump into you hit your cervix. You squeeze tightly around his dick, closing your eyes tightly as you feel your second orgasm wash over you, body twitching as you grip Albedos wrist.

"Auh~ 's too much!!~ mm 'bedo!!" You cried, voice hardly coherent as you were muffled by the sound of skin slapping. Albedos free hand grasping desperately at the sheets next to you, looking up at him to see his eyes tightly closed, teeth clenched and face flushed, too caught up in his high to see how he was overstimulating your poor fucked out pussy. Tears poured from your eyes as your body moved with his, awaited for his orgasm so you could stop since Albedo couldn't hear your pleas.

"Y/n.. c-cumming~" Albedo whined in your ear, his thrusts growing slower as he began grinding and humping you rather than fucking. Feeling his warm cum fall as spurts onto your skin sent a wave of relief through you. You were aching all over. Having cum twice and to have him keep abusing your hole was not something you'd imagine enjoying as much as you did, still he regulated his breathes and looked at you, falling on top and embracing you in a warm hug.

"Thank you, bedo. I love you" you whispered.

"I love you too, y/n" Albedo replied, gazing at you lovingly with sleepy eyes. Lazily, he pulled his shirt from the floor and wiped the both of you down, sighing and kissing you sweetly, you both drifted back off to sleep.

#genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin smut #gi smut #x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo smut #albedo kreideprinz #albedo fic #albedo fanfic #albedo imagines #SoundCloud

[ga-yuu]

----Part 1-----

A few days later....

Morinaga: "A formal agreement has been reached between Yoritomo-sama and Yoshitsune-sama regarding Yoshino going to Hiraizumi."

(....! Really?)

I meet up with Morinaga-san, Benkei and Sueharu-san to hear the results.

Benkei: "The Rebels will not do anything to Yoshino, who accompanies the orphans, with her bodyguard."

Benkei: "Even after finishing her business, Yoshino won't be restrained."

Benkei: "In exchange for agreeing to that, Yoshino will be staying with us at the Rebels' mansion."

Sueharu: "Huh?"

Yoshino: "Eh!?"

My eyes widen in surprise.

Benkei: "Yoshino's supernatural powers makes her a threat to Yoshitsune-sama and the Rebels."

Benkei: "So surveillance is better when it's close at hand."

Benkei: "........well, that's only half of the reason."

(Hmm? There's another reason?)

Benkei: "The main reason is that, Yoshitsune-sama has taken interest in you."

Yoshino: "....!? Yoshitsune-sama!? Why?"

Benkei: "You can ask him when you meet him in person."

Sueharu: "............"

Morinaga: "To be honest, we're all a little worried...."

Morinaga-san looks at us with a wry smile.

Morinaga: "But Yoshitsune-sama is not the kind to break agreements, so your safety is guaranteed."

Morinaga: "Still, the Shogunate was allowed to send a bodyguard to the Rebels' house along with you."

Yoshino: "You're right! Then I won't feel nervous..."

Sueharu: "If you're appointing some average bodyguard, then they will be instantly crushed by Kurama with his fingertips."

(Ughh)

Then, as if he had realised something, Sueharu-san glared at Morinaga-san.

Sueharu: "Wait a minute! Please tell me it's not you, Morinaga!"

Morinaga: "Honestly I wanted to, but I got other jobs."

Sueharu: "Pheww~"

Morinaga: "Sorry I can't come with you, Yoshino. But don't worry, the bodyguard that is appointed for you is very reliable!"

Yoshino: "Really!?"

Morinaga: "Yep. He's very hardworking, very responsible, very kindhearted...."

Then Morinaga-san held up his index finger.

Morinaga: "He's eyes glow like the clear sky. His smile resembles a blooming flower and his blushing cheeks are redder than a rose."

(Hm?)

At that moment, the sliding door burst open and someone jumped into the room.

Shigehira: "What kind of introduction is that!?"

-----Part 2-----

At that moment, the sliding door burst open and someone jumped into the room.

Shigehira: "What kind of introduction is that!?"

(Shigehira-san!?)

Shigehira: "I arrived just a moment ago and I heard you guys....how embarrassing, I look like an idiot now."

(He's embarrassed...)

Benkei: "It's been a long time, Taira no Shigehira."

Shigehira: "...Same here."

Sueharu: "I see. So you are Yoshino's bodyguard."

Yoshino: "Shigehira-san..."

Shigehira: "What? You have complaints?"

Yoshino: "Not at all....! Actually, thank you!"

I shake my head in panic and straightened my back.

Morinaga: "Good for you, Shigehira. You got what you wanted. Did you know, Shigehira was begging everyone to give him this role."

(Eh?)

Shigehira: "Hey! Don't say that...!"

Sueharu: "Ohh..."

Shigehira: "Why are you giving me that look!?"

Shigehira-san raised his voice and pointed his finger at us.

Then he awkwardly looks towards me.

Shigehira: "Don't get me wrong."

Shigehira: "I will not tolerate cruelty towards orphans, and if Yoshino-san is going into enemy territory for those children..."

Shigehira: "Then....because she's on our side......it's only natural to help her, right?"

(He....called me his ally)

Sueharu: "Heh. But you guys at one point of time suspected Yoshino for having informal connections with me, right?"

Shigehira: "Yeah? Whose fault do you think it is?"

Shigehira-san glares at Sueharu-san, blue veins slightly popping on sides of his beautiful face.

Yoshino: "Shigehira-san, it's okay. I don't mind anymore."

Yoshino: "It's natural that you'd would suspect me in that situation. But now I'm glad that you said you were on my side in this situation."

Shigehira: "Yoshino-san..."

Shigehira: "The suspicion against you has already been completely resolved in the Shogunate, thanks to Morinaga-san's report."

Shigehira: ".....Yoritomo-sama and Kagetoki-san are waiting for your return."

(Thank god....)

Yoshino: "Thank you! Shigehira-san."

Feeling relieved, I smiled.

Shigehira: "Just call me Shigehira. You don't need to add extra titles anymore."

Yoshino: "....! Really..? Are you...sure?"

Shigehira: "Of course. We're comrades now and we both are about the same age."

(I'm so happy. I'm finally being recognised!)

Yoshino: "In that case, I'll call you Shigehira-kun! Can I?"

Shigehira: ".......Mm."

Sueharu: "Nice to meet you too, Shigehira-kun."

Shigehira: "That's not for you!"

-----Part 3-----

Sueharu: "Nice to meet you too, Shigehira-kun."

Shigehira: "That's not for you!"

Shigehira-kun snapped at Sueharu-san who interrupted us.

(For the serious Shigehira-kun, Sueharu-san may be a natural enemy...)

Sueharu: "But I'm close with Yoshino too."

Sueharu: "If Shigehira is Yoshino's friend, I can be friends with you too, right?"

Shigehira: "What kind of logic is that.....? Also, what do you mean by 'close'?"

Sueharu: "Well..."

------Options------

Don't say inappropriate things.

We're just...friends.

You're just mistakening.

--------

Yoshino: "We're just friends...! There's nothing more to it, I swear."

Sueharu: "The best parts of being just friends is that you think you're just friends but instead you're actually drowning in love."

Shigehira: "HUHHH!?"

(Sueharu-san is always teasing me....)

Benkei: "Relax Shigehira. Here, have some tea."

Shigehira: "....Ah..tea, at a time like this?"

Shigehira-kun takes cup from Benkei's hands anyway and drinks it in one gulp.

Shigehira: "....Mmm, this tastes good."

Morinaga: "Yep. Benkei is really good at making tea."

Sueharu: "You seem to have gotten too comfortable with your enemy."

Morinaga: "On the battlefield, we're enemies. But outside that, Benkei and I are muscle-buddies."

Shigehira: "---Muscle buddies?"

Shigehira-kun's ears twitch.

Sueharu: "These two had a push-up competition inside an oxcart we were riding. It was so annoying."

Sueharu: "But who cares, Shigehira seems like he won't tolerate nonsense like that."

Shigehira: "Those biceps..."

(Umm)

Shigehira-kun gazes Morinaga-san and Benkei's arms with a fiery passion.

Sueharu: "Shigehira?"

Shigehira: "Damn, I wish I was there to see it....I-I mean..."

Shigehira: "You two seem like you had a lot of fun talking about your bodies after the competition, right.......?"

(Surprisingly, Shigehira-kun seems to be really interested, huh...?)

Benkei: "Ah? Well, we were talking about our diets and exercise.."

Morinaga: "Yep, it was nice to talk something fresh for once."

Shigehira: "Benkei-san! On the way to Hiraizumi, can you share some of your workout routine and diets with me as well...!?"

Benkei: "If you want, sure."

Shigehira: "..Yayy!"

Sueharu: "I thought, finally we'll have a normal person coming with us, but I'm an idiot to even expect something like that."

Sueharu-san looked up at the sky is if he had given up.

.........

That night...

While looking after the orphans, Shigehira-kun and I hurriedly prepared for our departure.

At the same time, Sueharu-san was...

Morinaga: "Can I have a moment, Sueharu?"

Sueharu: "Pay me 100k for each moment."

Even though Morinaga called him, Sueharu doesn't stop walking.

Morinaga quickly catches upto him and grabbed his hand.

Sueharu: "What?"

-----Part 4-----

Sueharu: "What?"

Morinaga: "I will be leaving soon, so I wanted to talk to you before that."

Sueharu: "Only the women who love you will be happy to have your one-sided wishes imposed upon them."

Morinaga-san broad chest does not budge even when Sueharu tries to push him away.

Sueharu clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Morinaga: "Sueharu. I had no idea how you've been spending your time after you left me...."

Sueharu: "That's to be expected, because I didn't tell you anything."

Sueharu: "So? Is the Shogunate's very own fierce general taking pity on me now?"

Morinaga: "That's not true."

Morinaga firmly grabbed Sueharu's wrist.

Sueharu: "...Let go."

Sueharu's frown didn't scare Morinaga and he looked straight at him.

Morinaga: "I'm frustrated."

Morinaga: "I couldn't do anything to help you in your time of need."

Sueharu: "Enough."

Sueharu sharply expresses his rejection.

Sueharu: "Even back then, I had to jerk your hand away."

Sueharu: "Once I did that, I didn't need your help again."

Morinaga: "........."

Sueharu: "There are millions of people out there who needs your help, right? Morinaga."

Morinaga: "I.."

Sueharu: "I said enough."

Anger dwelled in Sueharu's one eye like a lightning.

Sueharu: "For you're entire life, you've been lucky and smart. But unfortunately for you, I was the first and only thing that went wrong."

Sueharu: "That's why you're so obsessed with me."

Morinaga: "....Sueharu."

Sueharu: "Remember this. You can be unknowingly arrogant because you are a privileged human being."

Sueharu walks by Morinaga, who remained silent.

Morinaga follows his back and speaks in a low voice-----

Morinaga: "----Still."

Morinaga: "For me, Sueharu will always be my best friend. I cannot lie to my heart."

Sueharu: ".....I don't see what good a title like that would do."

Without turning around, Sueharu walks away.

...............

(Finally! The medical examination of the children are done and I also prepared extra medicines just in case)

(Looks like we can leave without any problem)

Yoshino: "Ah, Sueharu-san!"

I saw someone walking in front of me, and I called out.

Sueharu: "....! Yoshino."

-----Part 5-----

Sueharu: "....! Yoshino."

(Huh? There's something wrong)

When he turned around to look at me, I can feel a gloominess in his face.

Yoshino: "What happened?"

Sueharu: "Hm? Nothing."

(Really...?)

I stared at Sueharu-san as he walks towards me.

Sueharu: "If you keep staring at me too much, I'll have a hole in my head."

Yoshino: "....I couldn't help it, because you are good at hiding things."

Sueharu: "...I won't deny that."

Still, I decided to take the plunge and ask once more.

Yoshino: "Sorry, if I was mistaken."

Yoshino: "But I feel like Sueharu-san has been spacing out a lot ever since the cockfighting incident."

Sueharu: "........."

Yoshino: "If talking can help you ease a little bit, how about----"

A hand reached out and touched my cheek...

Sueharu: "Heh. You wanna help me feel at ease, huh?"

Yoshino: "Isn't it...obvious."

There was a passionate flame smoldering in his eyes that was neither irritation or impatience.

I gulped when I saw that.

Yoshino: "S-Sueharu..."

Sueharu: "Yoshino."

(Ah)

He holds my body closely, and my heart jumped.

Sueharu: "Rather than a conversation, I like feeling the warmth of a person to soothe my heart."

Sueharu: "Will you help me now?"

Yoshino: "Nn...."

He whispered in a low voice and I could feel my ears turning red.

Yoshino: "Please stop teasing me."

At that time----

Sueharu: "Shh..."

Sueharu-san then places his index finger on my lips.

Yoshino: "....!?"

Then he pulled me into a nearby room.

Yoshino: "W-What's wrong?"

Sueharu: "Stay still."

Just as I was about to say something, I hear footsteps from other side of the hallway.

Shigehira: "Have you seen Yoshino-san!? I wonder where she went?"

Morinaga: "Hmm. I didn't see her going out, though."

(It's Shigehira-kun and Morinaga-san. they seem to be looking for me)

The moment I squirmed, I felt the two arms holding me a little tightly.

Sueharu: "Don't go."

(Sueharu-san?)

While letting out a painful sigh, he buried his head in my shoulder.

I was confused at his indulgent actions.

Yoshino: "Mm....."

Chapter 17

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #cybird #ikemen mc #ikegen #main story translations #ikemen genjiden sueharu

[bradshawsbaby]

22 for the spring prompts with Rhett and Honeybee?

Royalty AU with Rhett? This one was so fun to write!

(It’s not really pivotal to the plot, but I imagined this being set in the 1930s as I was writing it!)

“I can’t believe Father is imprisoning us here all summer,” Annabelle snapped in disgust, the late afternoon sun filtering across her irritated face as she stood at the window, glaring down at the pastoral scene unfolding before her.

Your older sister had been fuming all day—all month, really. Ever since your father had informed the two of you that you would be spending the summer at the country estate, Annabelle had been in even more of a sour mood than usual, digging in her heels and practically throwing a tantrum this morning before you’d left the palace.

“Not very dignified behavior,” your older brother had whispered to you conspiratorially, his serious expression belying the humor that was dancing behind his eyes.

“It isn’t fair that Edward gets to remain in the city, while we’re stuck here, in this provincial wasteland,” Annabelle went on, her lips pursing in an expression that reminded you distinctly of the time you’d sucked a particularly sour lemon.

“Edward is the eldest,” you commented patiently, riffling through your valise. “And he’s the one who’s next in line for the throne. It makes sense that he would remain with Father.”

Annabelle let out a noise of distaste. “Of course you would take his side. You always take his side,” she retorted.

You wisely said nothing in response to that. You couldn’t help the fact that you and your brother had always been thick as thieves.

“I rather like the country estate. I’m glad we get two whole months to be here,” you said, trying to maintain a positive outlook.

Your sister rolled her eyes, giving you that patronizing look that implied you were the most naive simpleton she’d ever been forced to associate with. “You would,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Only you could find enjoyment in a place this boring.”

“It’s peaceful,” you replied with a graceful shrug of your shoulder, knowing it was useless. Your sister was determined to be miserable the entire time she was here. But that didn’t mean you had to be.

Stepping up to another large window, you gazed out at the expansive meadows with a wide grin spreading across your face. You loved the country estate. It had everything—peace and quiet, fresh air, a stable full of horses you could ride whenever you wanted.

Most of all, it had him.

Glancing over your shoulder at Annabelle, you took a step back and cleared your throat. “I think I’m going to go visit the horses,” you declared, feigning a nonchalance you didn’t actually feel.

“Not even here an hour and you’re already off to muck around with those filthy beasts,” your sister groaned, shaking out her delicate tresses. “I’m going to take a nap,” she huffed, whirling around and storming off towards her bedroom.

That was one good thing about Annabelle—she never bothered with your comings and goings, and she never asked to tag along.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, you snuck past a large group of household staff, being directed by the kindhearted, but firm manager of the estate, Mrs. Ainsley.

“The princesses will be here all summer, and we must ensure that everything is perfect for them as long as they’re here. Now get moving,” she was ordering.

Good, they were all busy, which meant nobody would be paying you any mind. Once you slipped out one of the side doors, you let out a sigh of relief and then took off towards the stables at a brisk pace.

You had just made a turn around the bend when you suddenly came up short, breath catching in your throat.

There he was.

He spotted you, too, the second you came into view on the path. You could tell from the way he stood up straighter, that piercing blue gaze ensnaring you, even from this distance.

You couldn’t really be certain who moved first, or if both of you moved at the same time, but soon you were standing face to face, only a foot or two separating you now.

Remembering himself, he suddenly lowered into the stiff bow you’d come to affectionately associate with him. He had never been one for formalities.

“Your Highness,” he greeted you, his voice just as deep and raspy as you remembered.

“Mr. Abbott,” you replied politely, giving him unspoken permission to rise from his awkward bow.

“It’s good to see you again,” he murmured, something glinting in his eyes as he looked at you.

“And you,” you smiled, your face betraying nothing of the emotions that were roiling inside you. To any prying eyes, it would appear that you were just having a respectable conversation with the stable boy. “I trust the horses have been well since our last stay?” you asked, twisting your fingers into the fabric of your dress.

“They have,” he nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Would you like to see them?”

“I would, thank you,” you nodded, smiling again as he led you into the spacious, well kept stables.

No sooner had the two of you stepped inside the cool walls of the stable and ensured that no one else was within earshot than he was pulling you into an empty stall, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing you like a dying man enjoying his last meal.

“Rhett,” you panted softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, the hair Annabelle always claimed was too long to be respectable. Annabelle knew nothing. “Rhett,” you moaned as his hot mouth began trailing kisses down your throat. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled against your skin, peppering your neck with gentle pecks. “I barely survived it, waiting for you to come back.”

“But I’m here now. And Father says we’re to stay all summer. Two whole months, at the very least,” you told him excitedly, cupping his ruggedly handsome face in your hands.

“Thank God,” he said quietly, kissing you again. It had been nearly a year since you’d last gotten to rest in his embrace and neither of you wanted to waste a moment. “Your kisses still taste as sweet as honey,” he grinned, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“So do yours,” you laughed breathlessly, pressing your body against his. You knew it was forward, and certainly most unladylike, but you couldn’t help it. You had missed him, and you were more desperate for him than ever before.

Rhett groaned softly under his breath, his fingers lightly brushing over your hair. “We have to be careful, Princess,” he whispered, using your title even though you hated it. “If anyone were to catch us—I’m nothing—”

“That’s not true,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re everything. You’re everything to me.”

Rhett smiled at that, though he still looked a touch uncertain. He reached up to gently stroke your cheek. “Welcome back, Princess.”

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Fluff | Smut | Filth February Prompt 4

Daryl thinks he likes your mouth a little too much. You, well, you’re perfectly okay with that.

or

Right now, right now, right now Right in this moment Here, here, there, there Shine a light on me Look, look, look, look

It’s Child’s Day.

At least, according to the - potentially accurate - calendar one of the residents had meticulously kept and Glenn’s memories of skipping violin lessons to play soccer with the other kids at church over a decade ago, it was. He’d said it in passing a few weeks ago, reminiscing on some of the only happy memories he’d had with his parents while shoving down some of your cooking, and when you and Daryl had gone on a run the next day, you’d loaded your bag with stuffed animals and toys.

You didn’t need to tell Daryl for him to know what was going on inside your head. To him, you were an open book.

Then the day came - a tentative, loose May 5th - and with it came the excitement. You’d told the parents of Children’s Day, told the teachers that herded the little ones into the designated makeshift-classroom garage, and got Carl to spread the word to his friends, too. The anticipation had built up over the course of two weeks, with every run crew combing through abandoned hotels and restaurants for colouring pages and crayons, recreation centers for sports balls and air pumps to fill them, and libraries for children’s books ranging from valiant knights to kindhearted fairies to national geographic, and Daryl fucking hates it.

Not the holiday - no, certainly not the holiday, because this is what the future he’s trying so damn hard to provide is supposed to look like, right? Laughing kids and smiling parents? - but it’s you he hates.

No, that’s not the right way to phrase it either. He doesn't hate you - can’t and wouldn’t, even if it meant life or death - but you, you’re-

Bringing his axe down, Daryl tears his eyes away from you, focusing back on what he’s supposed to be doing and splitting a log into two pieces with a huff. His sweat is soaking down the front of the jersey he’s wearing - it’s a stupid looking thing, blue and too tight around his shoulders - but you’d asked him to put it on and he’s ever had the heart to say no to you, let alone risk disappointing you by taking it off. So he just bares his teeth and bears the heat. 

You’re wearing one too - matching with him, if he could remember what his half-asleep brain had heard you tell him this morning. In fact, you’re really playing into the childrens’ obsession with the concept of soccer. Black athletic shorts that cut just above your knees, white socks with a bold crimson stripe that cuts mid-calf, and, fuck, do you look good. 

He hates you in that way.

You look too good for your own good.

You look too good, and he’s finding it hard to think about anything but you.

“Jesus, Daryl, slow down. You’ll pass out if you keep goin’ at ‘em like this.”

Thoughts still full of you in an outfit that all but screams you’re his, he picks up another log, flicking his bangs from his face with a quick turn of his head, and he grunts out a response, placing the piece of wood upright before adjusting the grip on his axe with a flex of his fingers.

“‘M fine.”

But he’s not. Daryl’s not fine because he’s spent the last few minutes watching you work your way through that popsicle Olivia gave you, a content smile risen on your cheekbones as your tongue gathers the cherry, lime and blue raspberry flavoured sugar. He’s not fine because you’re licking at it - wrapping your mouth around it absentmindedly as you referee a game of soccer with Morgan from the sidelines, and then poking your tongue out again to gather the liquid threatening to drop sticky sweetness onto the grass beneath you - and it’s making him think of something entirely separate than your innocent enjoyment he would have basked in otherwise.

He thinks of late nights and early mornings - of lazy days when the two of you spent hours love-drunk in each others’ arms, and when you’d doted and fucking spoiled him on the day you thought to be his birthday - and, damn it, he’s definitely not fine.

To be honest, he thinks he might be drooling violently.

He brings his axe down once more and wipes the sweat from his forehead before wiping the corner of his lips, taking large gulps of oxygen when the log splits in two and the metal blade of the tool embeds cleanly in the stump underneath it. Looking over at Rick, Daryl shields his eyes from the sun with a work-calloused hand, and squints before he manages enough breath to speak steady.

“Wha’d’ya want?”

A sigh leaves Rick’s mouth, and Daryl watches as he places a hand on his jutted out hip - The Stance, you’d called it - and there’s your canteen held out in his other. Daryl recognizes it in a second, and takes it from him, biting down a smile when he notices your handwriting on a little note you tied through the cap loop with a fraying line of twine. He fiddles with it as he screws open the piece of plastic and tilts it against his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort to meet his body’s need for water.

“There’s an arm wrestling competition goin’ on with the kids.”

When Daryl finally finishes drinking his fill, nearly half the canteen is gone and he hums vaguely at Rick’s words before taking your note between his fingers and finally reading it. 

‘Please drink this and please don’t push yourself too hard, okay? I’d miss you so so so so much if you died. I’d miss your kisses.

P.S. come give me one?’

His chest blooms in a familiar lovesick warmth from the note, a little lopsided heart and a sad face drawn at the end that makes him want to melt into the ground as if your words weren’t enough, and one corner of his mouth lilts up, his cheekbones lifting and scrunching his eyes in a look that makes Rick think of a teenager getting a Valentine’s Day card from his crush, not someone who’s been sharing a bed with the note writer for, what, a month now?

“What’s’at gotta do with me?”

Slipping your message from the canteen, he schools his expression with a clearing of his throat at the end of his sentence, blinking away the hearts in his eyes and stuffing the paper into the back pocket of his jeans. For moral support, he thinks to himself. To get him through this God awful Virginian heat.

“They wanna beat you.”

Daryl scoffs when Rick points to his sweat-coated arms still trapped in the seams of shitty soccer memorabilia, but when he looks around him, the amount of firewood he’d already cut satisfies him enough not to pick up his axe again. Or maybe it’s the thought that he’ll finally be able to do something other than the monotony that’s making his biceps sore that makes him stop and think about his decision. Maybe it’s the knowledge that his participation will make the little ones happy that makes him wipe his hands against his jeans to keep them from being too uncomfortable to grip when they eventually try their strength against his.

Or maybe it’s the thought that he can do good on that little postscript you wrote that makes him finally nod, and maybe - just maybe - that’s why his eyes are already searching for yours before he even opens his mouth to talk.

“Alright. Jus’ gimme a sec.”

A grin spreads across Rick’s face, and Daryl watches him turn, giving a couple of the kids watching him a thumbs up. Daryl huffs then, half in amusement and half in the satisfaction at the cracking sounds from his back when he stretches, and he slips the canteen across his chest as he makes his way towards the porch you’re leaning over, your arms resting on it as you call out one of the kids’ names for a foul.

It’s quick work getting to you - Daryl’s legs are long enough and he takes advantage of his swift feet, his vision torn away from you as he detours a bit to let the relay race run its course - but before he can even step foot onto one of the white-painted porch stairs, he catches sight of you crouched down, the kid you’d just yellow carded sniffing away tears in front of you.

His eyes meet Morgan’s then, and Morgan shakes his head, motioning at his own neck with a shaking cut of his fingers - now’s not a good time - and Daryl lets out a near silent dejected sigh. No kisses for now, and part of him feels embarrassed at the way he wants to pout. He’s nearing 40 by now, he reckons, and is definitely not some kid who was denied a chocolate bar at a grocery store, but damn it, he really wanted to give you those postscript kisses. 

Striding across the clearing, he makes it to the tournament taking place on a picnic table, light brown wood surrounded by kids he swears he’s never seen before. The soccer game must have ended pretty recently because some of them are still dressed in jerseys too big for their smaller bodies, red-faced and wild-haired from all the running, and Daryl’s hands are starting to get a little sweaty at the thought of being in front of so many people.

They’re children, yes, but still, it’s intimidating, isn’t it? 

Aaron notices him lingering behind, a foot taller than nearly all the kids in front of him, and he calls out his name, the sea of primary colours parting to allow Daryl to amble his way over to where Aaron’s sitting. Giving him a nod of appreciation, Daryl swings a leg over the bench, straddling it for a second before readjusting and finally taking a proper seat. 

“So, uh-“

Scratching at his little bit of beard, Daryl rests both his elbows against the tabletop, leaning forward in a low whisper to Aaron before Glenn slaps the wood beneath him, a Manchester United hat backwards and lopsided as it cuts across his forehead, and he flashes a smile at him, making Daryl’s words die in his throat as the collective attention of the kids is pulled to the bench. Aaron gives him an apologetic smile before looking at Glenn, and Daryl follows suit, squinting to keep the sun from hurting his eyes.

“Okay guys! Daryl’s here and you know what that means, right?”

Glenn waves a hand towards the prizes stacked onto the table next to him, a salesman-worthy smile on his face as he gestures to the stuffed animals in every colour of the rainbow and sets of legos that Daryl and you had scavenged from the local toy stores - he specifically remembers the Build-a-Bear he’d had to all but pull you away from because, Jesus Christ, some of them are so God ugly that it makes him wonder how they’d sold any in the first place - and the chatter from the kids gets louder, excited and eager.

“Someone has to take down Daryl in an arm wrestle so everyone can get a prize! You can go up against him as many times as you want, but he won’t hold back.”

Scanning the barely-a-classroom amount of kids eyeing the toys, Daryl takes their moment of distraction to tug on the hem of Glenn’s shirt, pulling him down enough so that he doesn’t need to speak above a whisper and potentially spoil whatever the illusion of this arm-wrestling game is. 

“‘M I supposed to let ‘em beat me?”

Glenn shakes his head, and Daryl lets his hand drop down against the seat when Glenn crouches to get level with him. 

The plan’s rather simple really, hushed whispers as Aaron stalls for time by making up rules he’s probably pulling out of his ass - ‘yes, you can definitely partner up,’ ‘No, you can’t,’ ‘Oh, c’mon, don’t give me that face you look too strong to pair up!’ - and by the time Glenn’s fully explained it, all the kids are buzzing to beat Daryl, talk of prizes igniting a determination in even the kids around Carl’s age.

The plan’s simple; don’t lose until the bonfire. And it should be pretty easy - he’s got years on the kids, the draw of his crossbow’s about a buck and he uses the thing so many times a day he needs to constantly make new arrows - but he narrowly loses as you walk by his field of vision, breaking his almost robotic takedown of his challengers through the spark of lust having sent his mind into a buzz.

He hones in on the way your hips sway with each of your steps despite it being nothing special. He’s watched you walk a million times already - admired you from the tall guard towers of the prison for months as you bent over stalks of vegetables in the makeshift gardens, and watched you do more than just walk, too, in the confines of your shared house - but, fuck, when you squat down to help tie the shoes of one of the little ones that had sought you out, the fabric of your shorts stretch across the swell of your ass in an almost insufferable tease and he chokes on his spit, sputtering for a second before slamming Carl’s hand down a little too hard onto the wooden table. 

Shit, Carl? When the fuck did Carl come to this table? Wasn’t he just across the field? Wrapped up in some conversation with that Enid girl he has a crush on?

Grumbling an apology, Daryl tears his eyes from your stupidly magnetic body with his own sheer willpower and lets go of the kid’s hand, scooting forward until the wooden seat digs into his tailbone and scratching at that spot on his neck that only seems to itch when he’s just done something that makes him want to disappear. He feels exposed - he’s without the comfort of his leather vest and his crossbow - but Carl laughs a little before standing back up, massaging the back of his hand as a smile eases onto his face, and Daryl hates the heat crawling up to his cheeks.

It takes only a second for the steam to blow over, though, and he’s thankful for that, wiping away his clammy palms on his jeans, hoping the rough denim will scrub away any more thoughts of you still lingering in his brain and staring down at the tabletop. He manages to keep his eyesight set strictly away from you for another set of tiny hands, but before Aaron can give the kids one more optimistic ‘don’t give up, team’ speech, a familiar running step, step, step pattern rounds the corner, and Daryl can feel his skin light aflame in recognition.

It’s you.

It’s you. He’d know you even in death, your hand clasped in the child’s as she leads you to the arm-wrestling table, a feeling of comfort dragged up from his memories and welling up in his chest as he hears the sound of you laughing. His eyes snap up immediately, greedy to see you with your pretty eyes and pretty lips and pretty face, and his stomach swirls in a sickly saccharine affection, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage with the sheer amount of adoration he feels for you. It’s so bright, your smile, and he’s struck lovedumb.

He remembers when he would scoff at people who acted like this - to be fair, he was young and jaded from one too many lashes of his old man’s belt to think there was any good in the world - but now, when the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life calls themself ‘his’, he gets it. He gets why poets wrote those stupid sonnets and why singers crooned and artists painted. His love for you has overwhelmed him since the second the realization made his heart rumble, and if you asked him to jump, he’d already be in the air asking you if he was high enough.

“Sun-“

Daryl’s the first to speak, a broken syllable of your nickname hitting your ears before he remembers the two of you have decided to keep your relationship more or less private, and he corrects himself with a clearing of his throat before saying your actual name.

“What- what are you doing here?”

His stutter is uncharacteristic to Glenn and Aaron - when Daryl says things, he plans it, steady and sure like the way he cocks his gun or slides his hunting knife across a whetstone - but you smile at it instead, his stumbling ingrained in you as breathless praises between your sheets and his very first confession of love.

No doubt, it reminds him of that too. How could it not when rendering him this flustered and this quick is an ease that comes to you as simply as breathing? And when you bite back another grin before sitting down across from him, patting the little one’s shoulder so affectionately it makes him think of how nicely you treat Judith, he fidgets to the edge of his seat, leaning his elbows on the tabletop and toeing at the grass beneath him.

“Aaron said the kids could have a lifeline.” Kids.

There are kids here.

His brain needs to shut the fuck up.

“And they chose me. Y’know what that means, right?”

Daryl manages out of his imagination just in time to catch you beam with a little bit of pride - he would have heard it in your voice, even if he was somehow blind enough to miss your the upwards pull of your lips - and he bites back a fond smile when he responds with a ‘what?’, blatant playful challenge in a way that makes you want to laugh. You raise your arm into arm wrestling position then and you let the lift of amusement find home on your face.

“They think I’m stronger than you.”

You’re putting on a bravado for the kids, he knows that, but there’s something so attractive about your confidence. You’ve got that glint in your eye that makes him weak in the knees, and when he raises his hand to loop his thumb with yours, an all too familiar tingle shocks the base of his spine. He blames it on the fact you run your thumb along his - that you do it so tauntingly, quirking one brow, making him think that, if this was back in the prison when you didn’t so happily call yourself his, he would lie awake at night replaying this moment over and over.

He blames it on the fact you look good in the same blue he’s wearing, too. Because Daryl refuses to blame it on the less than innocent thoughts he’s hiding behind his sarcastic remark.

“Think you can do it, then?”

You kick him under the table at that, scoffing out an inaudible breath he only knows happens because your cheeks rise into something adorable, and he misses Glenn’s countdown.

Instead, Daryl’s staring at you.

You can feel his gaze on your face, but when you shift in your seat, it’s not out of a discomfort or a fluster. Instead, it’s out of preparation. It’s out of a concentration to win. He’s staring at you, but it’s nothing new. The only new thing about it is that he’s not looking in your eyes. No, his ceruleans flick lower, caught up in the way you wet your lips - a slip of your intoxicatingly soft tongue, a fleeting bite - and your teeth catch your bottom one in a swift movement.

Fuck, it’s like the universe is against him.

How the fuck is he supposed to do anything but stare?

He’s staring so loudly he can’t hear the staccato ‘3, 2, 1’ signalling the round’s start, too busy swallowing his spit at the way he wants to press his mouth up hot and heavy onto yours, but you do. You hear Glenn just fine, and the second you can, you pull all your strength into your arm, a rocket burst of a press into the palm of his hand with yours to bring him down.

And Jesus Christ, it’s so easy.

There’s no resistance to it; a loud, dull smack of his knuckles meeting the wood table cracks through the air half a second after Glenn’s last syllable, and he doesn’t even notice it’s happened until he hears a cacophony of shrill, celebratory cheers and sees your panicked expression.

“Holy fu- Daryl? Are you okay? Shi- sorry, oh my god.”

You can't swear. There are children not even 5 feet away from the two of you, and though they may be caught up in clamouring over each other to get a toy, it still seems a little ill-placed to swear in front of them. So you school your words though schooling them means shutting up completely, and you manage an apology through wide eyes, lifting your hand still clasped in his so you can check for any damage and letting that do your speaking for you.

And instead of saying he’s fine - that it truly, really felt like nothing - he lets you look. He lets you check him for any damage because, though it’s getting increasingly hard to deny it to you, he likes it more than he can describe when you do. Daryl’s never had anyone care about him. Not anyone like you, anyways.

Biting your lip, you slide your thumb across his knuckles before unwrapping your fingers from his, giving him an apologetic smile - all soft eyes and upturned eyebrows - and he thinks his chest might burst open with how fast his heart is beating. You slide your eyes over to the prize table then, a swarm of children surrounding it like they were moths and the toys a flame, and, with Aaron and Glenn trying their hardest to regulate the greedy grabs of tiny hands, you bank on the fact they won’t notice the two of you slipping away when you rise to your feet.

Daryl would follow you anywhere in a heartbeat - he’d do it blindly, through the forests and through the seas if that was what you’d wanted - and this time is no different. Imitating your actions before you even need to speak, he rises too, barely a few steps behind you as you steal him away from everyone, and you take him behind a blue-walled house, paint chipping despite the careful glaze over it.

“Sorry. Crap, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

He’d matched you so many times before - wouldn’t budge no matter how many times you’d scrunch your face in a pout and ask so nicely - so how the fuck were you supposed to know today was the day he was throwing in the towel?

His back is against the wall as you speak, his hand still grasped in yours - it’s barely scratched, but he knows you worry too much about him sometimes - and when you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters, he can’t think properly enough to conjure up any words, let alone the correct ones to assure you.

So he watches you as you grab at a hose lying on the grass beside you, turning it on before you start rinsing his hands with cold water - to stop swelling, maybe? He’s not sure. You always were the smarter one when it came to stuff like this and he believes in you so emphatically he doesn’t question any of your ‘treatments’ even if they constituted as 25 kisses - and when you’re satisfied, you turn the water off, dropping the dark green plastic with a silent huff of triumph, the tiniest bit of a smile curling at your lips.

Daryl’s curiosity lasts only a second more, silence lingering before you press the back of his hand against your mouth in a quick peck, and the back of his neck burns at the image and feel of your lips. Instead, his head flicks left towards the metal walls - right towards the empty asphalt road, too - and when you pull from him, his impulse takes precedence over any ounce of self-control he has with you.

Which, in his defence, is very little to begin with.

He grabs your wrist then, wrapping his large hand around it with little effort, and in a moment’s worth of movement, he walks forward, insisting you up against the house behind you. Your body lets him move you, your back hitting the wooden-planked exterior as he cushions the back of your head with the palm of his other hand, and Daryl surrounds you after that moment - his warmth, his touch, his smell. 

“Da- Daryl what’s- oh- what- what happened back there?”

His lips are the first thing you feel, chapped and wet and needy, against your own, your jaw, your neck - any skin he can get to - making it hard for you to think. Then it's the wandering hands still stuck in their anxiety at the hem of your shirt, and then the surety of his thigh pressing up between your legs. It’s an onslaught of feeling from him, and you have to force yourself not to get lost in him, forcing your stuttered words from your mouth and forcing your eyes to stay open to watch for anyone passing by.

“You, sunshine.”

The artificial sweetness of the popsicle still lingers on your lips when he slips his tongue past them, and you press your palms into his chest, firm underneath your touch as you try and push him away enough that you can speak.

“Dar- Daryl, we- we should-“

His teeth catch on the skin of your jaw, a practised pinch that has you muffling your whimper, and when he doesn’t hear the breathy syllables of his name escape your lips, it’s like a switch flips in his brain - the reminder of the fact you’re in public and that a majority of the community doesn’t even know you’re with him in that way almost as insistent as his lust.

“Shit, right, sorry. I- I didn’t-“

Swallowing, he turns away from you, almost embarrassed at the fact he’d given into that animalistic part of his brain that seems to take over one too many times when he’s with you, and he clears his throat, pulling his hands from your shirt before he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, holding him in place and turning him back to you. One step is all it takes to close the distance between the two of you, and you return your lips to his, fingers at his jaw beckoning his chin down, and it’s a mess of chapped skin that has his brain near short-circuiting before he hears you speaking.

“Home. We should go back home.”

You’re like a damn siren - your voice is a liquor and it’s in Daryl’s genes to get addicted - and, oh, one of the houses you’d brought him between is the one you share with him. He’s not sure if it was intentional on your part, but he can’t dwell on it for even a second more because all he can think of is the fact that, in about 10 feet, there’s door he can lock and be alone with you.

Swallowing, he nods and lets you drag him along, jeans that have already been feeling a little too tight growing almost suffocating when you tilt your head back towards him and bite your lip. There’s a mischievous glint in your smile that he recognizes in an instant, and the moment the two of you clear the length of the porch, his body is pressed up against yours, a precarious position shielded by a convenient architectural protrusion.

Under your anticipation-laced hands, the door creaks open, and when the two of you cross the threshold of privacy, he has you pressed up against it, your back lining the white wood and the doorknob just to the side of your hip. Even trapped in his lust-flustered mind, he works not to hurt you. No, if he did - accidentally, some force in the outer world raising their hand against you - he’d drop to his knees right then and there and kiss you better.

“You look fuckin’ good, sunshine. Should be illegal for anyone t’look this good.”

Daryl speaks between familiar, driven kisses, flicking the lock shut when his fingers pass it by on their adventure up your hips, but when they dip underneath the hem of your shirt and start pulling it up, up, and up, you let go of his belt, the clinking of his undone buckle warning him of your free hands. Kicking off your shoes, you grab his forearms then, making him bite at the inside of his bottom lip at your strength, and he pulls his face away - barely an inch from yours, so close but too far - and waits for your words. 

“Are you not gonna tell me what happened back there, Daryl?”

You take a step to the side then, pulling him towards you with another hand at his belt loop, and in a swift motion, his back hits the door, a groan of surprise leaving his lips. It’s a vulnerable feeling, he admits - when the two of you were between the houses, there wasn’t a loom of anticipation hanging over him even though he had wished that there was - but it also feels good.

To be so close to you - to have you demand something from him  - it feels good. Almost undeniably so.

“I- I was zonin’ out. Was too busy starin’ at ya.”

You’re pressed up against him - his breathing quickening, heavier with the passing moments, and you can feel the way his chest expands - and he swallows when he looks into your eyes, a heat in yours that he’s damn sure he mirrors in his. He can feel the insistent heat pooling in the base of his stomach growing and growing, and it threatens to overtake him.

It threatens to burn him to a crisp, but if that meant staying here forever - if that meant staying here forever with you - he’d let it.

“What were you staring at?”

He wonders, for a brief second, if you know, because after you speak, the familiar pink of your tongue peeks out between your lips and wets them, as if purposely drawing his eyes down and threatening him to lie. And logically, he knows you can’t know - you’re not that good of an actress - but he’s not capable of a lot of logical thinking right now.

“Couldn’t- couldn’t take my eyes off’a ya.” 

Pressing your hand against his boxers, you smile to yourself when he melts into the door, his grip shooting to your waist to steady himself, his knees threatening to buckle from the run of your soft palm against him, and there’s something exhilarating about the power you have over him. He’s never like this - the Daryl everyone sees is always so sure of himself, always so in control of himself - but that version of him retreats with every single one of your touches and every single kiss you leave on his cheeks and down his neck.

Actually, no, it’s not that he’s never like this, it’s just that he’s only ever like this around you, and, fuck if it doesn’t make you want to get down on your knees for him right here and now.

“‘Specially not when you were- fuck- lickin’ that fuckin’ popsicle and-“

His words are garbled between groans though he tries his best to string together a coherent sentence, and you admire the way his eyebrows furrow, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows down his spit. It’s almost mean - almost fucking torture, the way you spread the wet patch growing in his underwear and let out a perfect little sound at the way he lifts his hips up and grind into your palm - but you can’t bring yourself to stop.

He cuts himself off when he realizes you’ve asked a question and he’s done everything but answer it, and he’s quick to push off the door, spotting the pulled curtains from this morning and the empty couch. The perfectly empty couch.

“I was starin’ at your mouth, sunshine.” 

Fingers digging into your thighs, he scrunches his face inwards, pressing his chest towards you so you grab at his biceps for support, and, with a breath, he lifts you, the buckle of his belt grazing just under your ass and hanging loose in the loops like a reminder of what’s to come. You rise with a subdued squeal and wrap your arms around his nape almost instinctively. It doesn’t matter how many times he does this - doesn’t matter how safe you feel in his arms, or that you know he’ll never drop you, or that, more importantly, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he dropped you - you close your eyes and dig your face into the crook of his neck.

“Was thinkin’ about everythin’ ya do with it. More’n just kissin’.”

The couch squeaks under Daryl’s enthusiasm, making you bounce on him, and for a second, you think you’ve hurt him, pulling your hips up off of him when he groans into your ear. But you quickly learn that it’s not a groan of pain, it’s a groan of relief, the feeling of you against him making him grab onto your hips tighter. He needs you this close to him and, if Daryl’s learned anything from being with you, it’s that he’s not above begging.  

“Wait- wait, fuck, come back. Please. Feel like I might go crazy without ya.”

And when his voice nears that little precipice of a needy whine, who are you to deny him?

“I don’t wanna be anywhere but here, you know that.”

So you sit back down, grinding your hips against his and basking in the thickness that rubs against you, and you lean down to press pecks to his cheek, his head thrown back and resting on the back of your dull gray couch. He’s a sight to behold like this, cheeks blooming pink and his lips swelling red from use, and a skin-tingling idea pops into your head when he undoes the tie of your shorts, fingers already crawling up to the waistband to coax it off.

Mouth, huh?

You have no problem with that.

Distracting him with one last careful, wet kiss, you lift yourself just enough that your both your legs come between his, and slowly, you move your body down, hands grabbing his belt to free him. He’s eager with your movements, lifting his hips to help you get that stupid piece of leather off of him, and when you slide your body down to the floor, he nearly bites through his jaw at the image.

All his lust-fuzzed brain can comprehend is how pretty you look, between his knees with one of his hands against your hair and the other on your chin, your hands on his thighs holding him open for you. All he can think about is how fucking pretty you look, and if he lets his mind wander, he wonders if you’d look just as pretty with his fingers in your mouth.

So he slides his thumb from your chin up against your lower lip - just for a second, to test out the waters, to see if you pull away or look at him with apprehension - but when you don’t, choosing instead to relax and let him touch, there’s only one logical conclusion.

You’d look prettier.

A lot prettier.

And while he’s sat admiring you, breathing stuttered by the tongue that peeks out to slide across his thumb, a rush of adrenaline moves him, so blinding in its fury that he’s a slave to obey it. Two rough fingertips - worn from hard work, the ones that hold you and engulf you in a safety you know only with him - press against your mouth, and like rushing water, they break forward, resting heavy against your tongue with an insistence that makes you press your thighs together.

You close your lips around him at the sensation, looking up at him to tell him ’I want this’ with just a look, and your neck tilts so fucking alluringly that Daryl fails to fight the urge to trace down the column of it with his eyes. Loose hair overhangs onto your forehead, and almost immediately - almost tenderly, too tenderly for what the two of you are doing behind closed curtains - he swipes it away, half in the fact he knows your hair will end up tickling you, and half in the fact that he can’t handle any obscuration from seeing you.

Not when your eyebrows are in that slanted expression only he gets to see, and not when your lips are wrapped around him so tightly it’s like you want him to stay.

Especially not when he presses his fingers further down - presses his fingers firmer against your tongue - and he can see the heaviness of your breaths, a pacing to keep your throat from folding upwards and out. You can feel the urge start to creep up each time you inhale from your nose and exhale the same, but you swallow it down, a drive to take him making you stare into him, a debilitating intensity that makes his cock throb and his brain muddle into mush. 

Sliding your hands down to his knees, you shuffle forwards more, cheeks pulling in around him as you press your face closer and closer to his crotch, and Daryl feels like he might overheat from the hedonistic swirl in his stomach. Your eyes are watering, the corners beginning to flush the tiniest bit of red, and it’s driving him crazy, a sick pleasure making him press down, down and down until he feels your tongue force him to the roof of your mouth and he watches your throat bob.

There’s no choked sound, but the saccharine haze breaks all the same, an immediate overtake of instinct that makes him jerk away, fingers leaving your mouth with an audible pop as his other hand wipes at your cheekbone in immediate apology. Your head follows him, leaning forward to chase, but when he holds you firm and keeps you from his saliva-coated fingers with his stupid overbearing and reasonable concern, you think you could cry at the loss of him. 

“Fuck- sorry- sorry, sunshine. Are y’alright?”

When he speaks he sounds so sincere, his black pupils blown wide and greedily replacing the cerulean you know only as him. But still, they soften at the thought he hurt you - you think maybe he could cry with the look of panic on his face - and your heart wells up in an affection that’s all too familiar when it comes to him.

You want to hug him, to kiss him, to give yourself to him.

You want Daryl to give himself to you. 

“I’m- I’m fine but,”

Your voice is raw, sandpaper tearing apart your sentence at the first word, and he does nearly everything in his power to keep from fucking moaning at how you sound. His cheeks are burning hot from your perfection, and even though he knows he should be listening to you, he can’t stop remembering. He knows what happens before you sound like this - has each placement of his lips and his hands seared into his brain so he can open you up and take you apart piece by piece - and each time he tries to stop thinking, the phantom feeling of your skin on his tongue draws him back.

“I want you, Daryl. I want-“

There aren’t enough brain cells rattling around in your head to properly articulate your intentions, but a shock of lust gives you the confidence you need to reach forward and grasp him through his boxers, your mouth watering at the weight of him like you were some starving animal, and his eyes nearly roll back at the touch. It’s not firm enough for him to feel it - definitely not firm enough to make him buck up into your hand - but he does, and when you grab his jeans, the waistband of his boxers tangled up in your desperate grip, he’s helpless to letting you.

“Please.”

You’re going to be the death of him, but, quite honestly, he doesn’t really care.

“Are- shit- are ya sure, sunshine? Ya don’t gotta-“

But despite his words - despite his want to wait for you to respond and to hold back until you’re sure - he grabs your wrists with one of his own large hands and presses you down harder, choking off a groan of your name when your tongue swipes at your lips and you swallow.

You’re looking at him like you want nothing more than to steal him away from his senses, and Jesus Christ, he’d let you pull him under if that’s what you’d wanted.

“Shut up, Daryl. I- I want to. I want you. Please.”

And when you sound so good like that, who the fuck is he to deny you?

So he lifts his hips, jeans and boxers dropped down around his ankles with one clean pull, and you’re on him in a second, shuffling forwards on your knees and anticipating the bruises that will creep onto your skin during the night. It’s hot now - too hot for you to wear jeans like Daryl somehow does - and you wonder briefly if people would know how you got them.

Would your heart eyes give the two of you away? The lingering heat that never seems to cease when you’re around him?

Would you even care?

As if he can read your mind, he reaches over to a carefully folded blanket - a deep, ugly orange he’d wrapped you in that one time you had a cold, concern for your wellbeing and memories of the prison making him so fiercely protective and worried - and offers it to you. He’s seen your bruises before, and though you tell him they don’t hurt like he thinks they do, he doesn’t want them to even have the possibility of sprouting onto your skin. They have no right to. 

But you shake your head, holding him heavy and upright in your hand - perhaps flourishing at the thought of wearing this moment in time on your body for the next few days - and he barely has time to put the fleece down before you press tongue against the underside of him, already making his stomach flex at the kitten-soft flick of your tongue. The hand in your hair drops to your chin then, and the one still slightly coated in your saliva drops to his cock, smearing haphazardly before taking it in his grasp and sliding him against your lips.

Like you did for his fingers - like you did so prettily and so perfectly for his fingers - your mouth drops open, and your eyes round in a look that all but pleads for him to ruin you. It’s intoxicating, the knowledge you want him to take and take and take from you the same way he lets you take from him, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you whine, so desperate for him that you shuffle even closer.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous like this, y’know that?”

Nodding, you swallow when he lets go of himself, a swirl of excitement and desire driving your hands forward to replace him, and the groan he lets out when the wet glide of your tongue travels the length of him is more than enough of a distraction from dwelling on the fact you shot towards him like a rocket. He laughs lightly - barely chuckles, a breathless noise you wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t watching his face so intensely - and you think you must be a picture of desperation between his knees, pressing your thighs together from the taste and the sight of him. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

You need this. You need Daryl to feel good.

You need to be the reason why.

“‘Course ya do. My- fuck- my gorgeous girl, ain’t ya?”

There’s the slightest ghost of a smile on his face when he questions you. but his face screws inwards when you moan in agreement, the vibrations of your noise travelling through his body and making his thighs twitch nearly close around you, the one last brain cell powered by what little blood is still in his top head reacting in time to keep himself from the possibly hurting you.

God, he hasn’t felt himself this desperate since, well, maybe the last time the two of you slept together? It dawns on him when you pull off and kiss just the tip of him that you set him alight like nothing else he’s experienced in his life. You’re a wildfire as you blaze through him, consuming him in the devastating mix of your love and your desire, and he wants nothing more than to burn.

“Shit, sunshine, you’re too- too fuckin’ good at this.”

Closing your lips around him, you sink down, emboldened by his praise and the choked moan of your name at the way your tongue runs against the side of him, and he rewards you with a whimper, his fingers sliding to the back to your head so he can ball your hair into a makeshift ponytail as his other swipes the bangs from your face.

Daryl needs to see you. 

His thighs are shaking, that familiar coil starting to tighten in the base of his stomach, and though he’s trying and failing to filter his words - a string of ‘you’re takin’ me so well’ and ‘fuck, look at ya, sunshine’ and just simply your name whispered so sweetly between the earth-tethering swears escaping him with little thought - he needs to see you. Despite the fact he knows it’ll catapult him to his finish, the sight of you coupled with the fact these sensations are purposeful for him to feel, he needs to see you.

And his blue eyes bruise as they spread across you, piercing as he watches every little movement of your body, attempting to memorize every inch of you - every inch of him you’re taking, every caress of yours erupting across his skin - and you want to ask him if you make him feel good, but, of course, how can you? 

“H- hey, don’t take too much if y’ain’t ready.”

It’s so fucking sloppy, a mess of spit that drips down the length of him and down to where your hand strokes him, and if he lets himself accept thoughts from a more primal part of his mind, he wonders if, just if, he slid his hand down above your neck, he could feel himself underneath, bulging through your skin. It feels dirty - feels wrong to even contemplate because, Hell, it would probably hurt on your part - but to know you’d do it for him makes him ascend to another plane of goddamn existence.

Feeling his grip tug tension into your scalp, you press your face down further, your throat rising and falling once then twice as you fight your body’s urge to push him out. Soreness is crawling across your jaw and threatening to hold you still, but you can’t. You won’t let yourself because every time he swipes your hair from your forehead with a careful thumb, you know he’s watching and you know you want to please. With each twist of your wrists and pull back of your face to kiss the head of him, you tell him you’re his. Body and soul. Mind and heart.

His hips lift then, a strangled groan making you moan around him when he tugs your makeshift ponytail a little too perfectly hard, and you know he knows it.

He’s yours too, melted into a puddle in the palm of your hand with every leak of him you swallow down, and when he bucks up again, hitting the back of your throat, he tries not to get too lost in the image of your stretched lips and the sweat lining down your neck. But you’re too fucking pretty and perfect like this that he can’t stop himself.

“Fuck- fuck, shit, sunshine-“

And for the first time since you’d gotten down on your knees for him, Daryl breaks eye-contact, and you know he’s about to break, too, the sharp cut of his jaw exposed to you when he throws his head back against the back of the couch. He’s a sight - as much as he calls you beautiful, he’s beautiful as well - half-God and carved by Bernini himself, immortalized into a baroque sculpture befitting of your enamour for him, and you can’t stop yourself from your want for him to fall apart for you.

“I love you, Daryl. Love- love you.”

You draw from him just to say that, dangling the reminder that you could stop whenever you want and deprive him of you over his head, a wet pop sounding over his heavy breathing, and it’s a mockery, what you’re doing to him. A delicate stamp of a kiss against his strong thighs making him burn, and before he knows it you’re back to your kitten licks, too goddamn soft and sweet and doting at his tip for him not to fucking whimper.

Taking him into your mouth again, the haze in your eyes makes him shudder when he looks at you, and he draws his hips back, rutting just another inch past your lips with the grip of his fingers keeping you still. There’s a substantial effort on his part to keep himself together as both your practiced hands tighten, slick down your palm with a mixture of him and your own spit, but then you whine, taking more of him than he can remember you ever having taken before, and it’s too much for him.

The sight, the smell, the feeling. It’s all too goddamn much. 

“Christ- w- where?”

You pull from him then, a string of saliva connecting him to you, and you stick your tongue out, looking at him expectantly and impossibly prettily. And when he realizes what you want from him - that you would even let him - it’s immediate.

“Shit- sorry- sorry, sunshine.”

Ropes of him hit you then, bursting down from the roof of your mouth, some of him getting onto one of your cheeks and some onto your forehead, and there’s so much, each throb of him heavy as you hold him which is befitting since it really, truly feels like it’s only you tethering him down to Earth. His abdomen tightens, arms and thighs flexing as he folds inwards on himself because he’s not closing his grip around you. He can’t. He doesn’t trust himself.

If he hurt you, what would he do with himself?

So he whispers ‘I love you’s’ almost apologetically, his voice dragged down to the depths of a pleasure you barely know you pull him to and a litany of curse words and your name making you want nothing more than to slide your own hand down between your thighs because holy fuck he sounds so good. His eyebrows are scrunched inwards in a glare so intimidating you might have cowered from him if he didn’t remind you that his whole being belonged to you every single day, but he does and it’s impossible now for you to regard him with anything but affection. The security of his presence and the warmth of his being spells only safety, and even when the two of you get into the sparse fight, he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Love blooms from you with a blinding intensity, even as you stroke him, carrying him to the edge until he just can’t handle it, love blooms in your lust, all consuming as you swallow and swallow, a saltiness down your throat that marks you as his. Nobody would ever see you in this position - Daryl would make sure of it, his anger explosive when you’re a possible casualty - but to be in such a vulnerable state for him, it makes your head hazy and muddled. 

It makes him feel that way, too. Twofold.

Maybe even ten.

Breathing heavy, he stops moving to just stare, letting go of you to admire your eyes, your cheeks, your stupidly prepossing mouth and neck, down to the divots of your collarbones, and he memorizes the lingering depravity in your expression with his hooded eyes. Only when he goes to caress your skin does he realize the mess he’s made on you - lust-fuzzed brain throwing almost all courtesy and self-control out of the window - and he’s quick to try and fix it.

“Sorry, sunshine. Lemme-”

The apologetic smile on his face is so adorable, genuine and boyish as he swipes what’s hit your forehead and cheek, and his touch is tender, returning from the take back to the care that your brain recognizes as him. He reaches down to the floor with his other for the red rag in his jean’s pocket to clean you then, but your greed drives you forward. It takes a split second - just a split second - for you to grab his hand in yours and wrap your lips around his thumb like you did his cock, and you push it into your mouth, tongue sliding against it to gather him and reminding him of what happened moments ago as if he could ever forget.

“Holy shit.”

It’s so fucking erotic that Daryl’s stuck in his seat, swallowing down the rush of saliva and willing himself to harden again. But he’s not that young anymore, and while he’s cursing himself, he watches you move from your kneel, figuring that his fingers and mouth will work just fine to make you burst.

And if they don’t? Well, he’s open to try and try and try until you do.

Rising to your full height, you smile at him when your gaze meets his, a pang of arousal washing through you when he raises an eyebrow and extends his arm towards your shorts, and you nod, bending down just enough to rest your elbows on his shoulders and kiss his jaw. The waistband loosens off your hips with his dexterous movements, and before you can even brace for him, his muscular arms scoop underneath you, hooking underneath your thighs the moment you step out of the polyester.

A muted yelp escapes from your throat, and you press his head against you, holding onto him for some stability before he seats you over his lap, and he digs his face into your chest, making your exclamation melt into a chuckle at the immature joy he takes in being pressed up against your shirt. He only pulls away when you tug lightly at his hair, your other hand pushing at his chest with an insincere petulance, and there’s an infuriatingly charming pout on his lips that’s so cute that you want to kiss it away.

So you do, your fingers sliding underneath his chin and tilting him up, slotting your mouth over his so adoringly the you can feel his smile spread at the same quick speed yours does, and when you pull away, the need for oxygen overtaking your desire to run your tongue along his, there are constellations and pieces of stardust shining in his eyes.

It makes you feel like you’re everything to him.

“They’re gonna wonder where we are, Daryl.”

Tilting his cheek into your touch, he covers your hand with one of his - your knuckles against his palm - and links his fingers underneath yours, an intimacy so inescapable it makes him think, yeah, you are everything to him.

But he’s known that for a while now, hasn’t he?

“Let ‘em.”

The gravel of his voice glides much too smoothly over his words than it has the right to, and when he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your wrist and taking a deep breath of your scent, it’s like he’s helpless to his own body, put under a spell by you.

“Ya took me so well, y’know that? Gonna let me make ya feel good, too?”

He caresses the skin underneath the hem of your shirt, lips feverish and wet against your neck, and all you can do is nod, lifting your arms to help him rid you of the stupid shirt that matches his. He pulls it off with little trouble, your bra following soon and flung haphazardly towards the stairs, and he devours the sight of you, hands grabbing your ass and digging underneath his next victim - the pretty blue panties he’d watches you put on just this morning.  

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t done wit’ ya. Not yet.”

And Daryl doesn’t think he ever will be. No, he’d be just about the biggest damn idiot in the world if he ever was.

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey @marylimlp @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves​ @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired @phoenixblack89 @in-ky @riverscyberwife @jocyc1997 @darlingdixon @candice666 @angryunicornlady @caelys @akilababs @rhyrhy462 @queendragon0614 @howdoiwork @ancientbeing10 @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog​ @sgtapepper @shizkayo @poisonmenegan @burritoplant @huntressknight @mariannambl @dftblood @beatitlikeabongodrum @januarymaebell @potplantbedspread @green-eyedladywrites @gemathewitch @wolfmoretti @atlanticstarr @deathishereditary @shittyoudidntneedtoknow @srhxpci @heretosimponly @decendingfromgrace @large-juice @cosmic-lavender @sunshines-petal @boluvsurmum @theteaset

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[chainelunaire]

“you really don’t need that.“

touya smiles at you. him smiling is a rare occasion, and it’s usually not out of joy, rather mockery. he never laughed at you, like, directly in your face, and yet you still know he finds you ridiculous. when he actually needs to acknowledge your existence, which is quiet often, sadly.

“like, right fucking now or in general?”

“in general it’s your ‘right fucking now’.”

“that’s rich. i’m not gonna agree on that. now, take the money, i don’t have that much time.”

he never does, by the way.

not that you care that much - see, surviving on the streets is a whole thing, and you’re not that naive or kindhearted as he may see you. you’re doing it for far more than he can ever imagine, and you do good because you provide something everyone needs here. you’re one of the lucky ones - if you really, really wanted, you could become a decent member of a society. maybe even a hero.

yet, you’re not a hero. far from one - if we talk about book-like heroes. you have a lot of clients, and some of them are heroes - you know very well, they don’t do heroic shit with buying from you, but you don’t judge. heroes have some good money, they’re great clients - dutiful, polite and they pay in cash. they’re a lot better than poor angry scum, like small villains or angry homeless kids.

touya is an interesting case for sure: you know you’re not the only one he’s buying pills from, and you’re not blind, you see why he needs it so badly. his rotting flesh - violent purple on some places, and still kinda pinkish on others - is his very obvious reason why he wants every painkiller in a city. with how much he needs, he alone would probably suck your quirk dry, only if you’d let him to, so you don’t. you’re friendly with him - you’re poilte with all of your clients - and you let him mock you, smile at you, but still, you charge the guns. not your problem sometimes he forgets that.

and again, even if you’re asking some stupid questions, everyone generally let you be, because you have the powder, and they don’t, so who’s the real boss here? touya, for example, hates to be asked - what’s his real name (touya is his real name), where’s he from (he was too high to answer, and later you just dropped the subject alltogether), how old is he (he hadn’t answered that one) - he hates shit like that, but he told you almost everything you wanted to know, because you have the pills, and he doesn’t. you’re making rules here.

so he can smile all he want, but here’s the real threat, and he feels it - you may actually not be in the mood to give him pills, and this is bad, very-very bad. you need cash, of course, but you don’t need it that badly, you know? you have enough. it’s friday, late in the night, he called you not on the schedule, and you may be slightly pissed, because all you wanted was a peaceful night, not his usual shenanigans.

for once, he’s right.

“nah, i spare” you say, stepping back under a roof of a night club, where you usually spend your friday evenings. “g’nite”.

“wait” you turn back to him - he’s a bit angry, you think. “that’s not what we agreed upon”.

“of course not, since you stalked me here out of the blue” it’s your turn to smile - you afraid it might look a bit wolfish with how annoyed you are, “you should be grateful i talked to you. i don’t have anything on me right now anyway and i want to rest.”

“c’mon, make it. i’ll pay you double”

“sounds nice, but still no” something changes in his attitude. you’re so calm and he knows you’re not playing. you’re not that type of person - he thinks you’re naive, but he also knows for sure you don’t do anything you don’t want to do. and your quirk, while being so handy, is very tiresome. that’s the core reason why you busy being here and not being a decent member of a society - you help only on your terms and only if you want. he can’t change your mind, not really.

“my, my, you look horrified, don’t you have a backup plan?” you’re starting to worry because now he’s shivering, studying his hands in almost horror. you feel a bit bad - you know that he really needs it.

but it’s none of your business at the end of the day.

“you were my backup plan” he says quietely, not so smug anymore. “already been everywhere”.

“i’m really s-”

“please” you don’t like that desperation in his voice. you absolutely hate when clients do that, play your emotions. you’ve always respected touya for not doing that. that’s why you were so friendly and calm with him. but here he is, trying to play you. “please, i really need it.”

“everyone does” now you truly do sound tired. touya looks at you, eyes glisten with something more than just desperation and terror. you can smell burning flesh and you prefer to ignore why.

“i can give you more, if that’s what you need” he speaks after a long pause.

“i already told you, i don’t need more cash”.

“didn’t talk about money”.

you feel cold in your limbs. he looks straight at you now - no spark in his eyes, not any reflection. his gaze now remind you of a dead fish - it’s this empty, this fucking gross.

you know for a fact, he doesn’t like you. for what you know, he doesn’t like anyone. he hates to be touched, he completely ignores any attempt in flirting, even innocent playful teasing, even not from you. he doesn’t like to be around people, and he sure as hell doesn’t like you - in that sense at least. you never asked him where he got the money. you never asked him why everytime he needed just a bit more. you’ve grown too comfortable with the fact that it’s a neverending circle: he needs more powder to kill his pain to go through a day so he can get money so he can pay you - and not only you - for a powder to kill his pain-

he sinks on his knees, looking down, and you want to run away, to scream, to jump into a hot water and scrub this disgust away. you shiver when you feel hot lips even through warm tights you put on today’s morning.

“don’t touch me”

“don’t worry” he mumbles not looking at you “i’m clean. checking every month. promise”

you’ve truly never been so terrified in your entire life. you’re begging him to let you go - his hands are gentle, not inruding in any manner, but still he doesn’t listen. you can’t move a muscle. you don’t feel aroused in a slightest.

you wanna throw up.

“wait”

you feel warm hands on your hips.

“touya, wait”

no response. you’re starting to think he’s zoned out - you know, people do that when they do something they hate to do.

“touya, stop!”

you feel bad for kicking him. you feel bad that he thought so of you. you feel even worse, because of how easy it was for him to go in this direction. it’s like he’s used to do it again, and again, and again.

“what” he asks flatly. you hate his eyes now, without his usual boldness and pride. it hurts you, it hurts you so, so bad.

you feel growing pain in your chest. you feel your entire body trembling with tiredness and something more. you feel like you need a lot of powder, to kill this pain.

he doesn’t look in your eyes - his gaze is locked on your hands.

“take it” your voice is hoarse from anxiety. you don’t have the strength in you to make this powder neat and nice, it’s not his usual pills, it’s something different, but it should work. you fear that he might want to finish what he started, and you see him opening his mouth. to ask, probably “shut the fuck up and go home. do it before i changed my mind.”

“i scared you?” he asks instead. you look away. “i see”

“take it and go!”

“sorry. didn’t want you to fear me. don’t feel bad-”

“please, just go away. please” you feel your voice crack, and hide your face behind your free hand. you feel warm fingers on your skin once again, and then you can tell he’s gone.

there’s a tiny bit of powder still on your skin. you’re licking it off of your palm, and you know how strong you are, it should be enough for you, you should feel better now. the thing is, even after making yourself painkillers again and again and again, until you’re almost lying on the ground from tiredness, that terrible pain is still here.

and you probably still really need more.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x you #touya todoroki #dabi angst #bnha oneshots

[nightfallgazer]

Wanted to show my Charlie redesign. All my thoughts on the canon design, my take on Charlie’s personality, and development of my redesign is under the cut.

By the Way: ❌🔥I do not support Vivzipop🔥❌and if you do not like fans redesigns, block the tag and scroll along.

Do not repost/edit/steal my art, thank you.

My handwriting sucks ass lmao. Anyway, green text is design elements I like and blue text is design elements I dislike.

For my redesign Charlie in her based form:

I tried to make her look older like she is her 30s, not in her 20s. Even though canon Charlie is over 100 years old.

Less red!! I made her suit brown because brown and red look amazing together.

Gave her puffy shirt sleeves because those are my weakness and I want to give her a little bit of theater kid energy.

Her still has her hooved feet but I sucked at drawing regular feet, let alone animal feet but they are there I promise.

She is still 6'5 and dislikes being called ' Charlottle'.

In her Partial Demon Form:

I like that her horns ripped through her skin in the show, I keep that. It looks cool as fuck.

Her eyes became a four-pointed star and her cheek marks become scribbles when she is angry.

My Charlie has more of official title: Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Pride Ring but will earn the title 'Princess of Hell' over time by unleashing her true potential, showcasing her raw power, and developing her leadership skills.

Her personality: Charlie is still a kindhearted person but is not a doormat. If you double crossed her, you are on her shit list, end of story. Do not take her kindness for weakness. Charlie is snarky but is very low key about it. She likes to make sly comments under her breath. Does not swear in front of strangers. She likes to keep a professional appearance but does swear around friends. The only swear words she uses are ass, damn, bitch but when she is upsets, she will throw out a fuck. She likes to go around in Pentagram City to learn and understand the lifestyles of sinners.

For my version of Charlie. I want her to stand out more, like she is a child of the first woman and a fallen angel, she is one of a kind. So here is some of her quirks:

When she is excited, she 'baas' like a goat.

Sticks out her tongue at random moments. You can be having a normal conversation with her, and she will stick out her tongue. You can ask why she did that, but she would shrug and respond, 'I have no idea what you are talking about'.

Goats like stay in groups and cuddle up together when sleeping [according to a quick search I did] When sleeping, Charlie likes to surround her with a lot of pillows, V [I going to give her a different name when redesigning her] does not mind this and finds it cute.

Charlie is a very light sleeper and is not the nicest person when she does not get enough sleep, so you better not try to open up that one of those cakes with the plastic dome lid in the middle of the night.

Devlopment of my redesign:

Canon Charlie's her face reminds of a Sonic character. I think because how big her eyes are and having a black nose. Maybe that is the Sonic fan in me talking lmao. I made the shape of her eyes smaller but still keeping that apple shaped to her eyes. I have no idea what I struggled with designing her hair. I should not try to redesign characters when I am tried.

For her outfit, I just searched up 'hotel manager uniform' and picked the first uniform I saw.

#my art #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel charlie