#enviable curves

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Eleven — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader receives a much-needed pep talk in Velaris and gets thinking. Azriel receives a lecture in Windhaven by a frustrated Rhysand. Reader is surprised by an unexpected visitor to the City of Starlight.

Word count:

Warnings: A little bit of smut, 18+, minors dni.

Velaris feels like an entire world away from Windhaven.

You’ve been here only once before, when, as mischievous fourteen-year-olds, Rhysand had brought you. The High Lord had been in another court on business, which had seemed like the perfect time for Rhys to show you his other home. Only, his father had returned early, and had thundered — hard enough to shake the mountains — about strangers entering the shielded city without formal invitation. Not you, nor Cassian, nor Azriel, had been back since.

And that lingering encounter was why, when Roza brought you here three days earlier, you’d been nervous about coming face-to-face with the High Lord yet again.

But the handsome, roguish male had merely given you a long, slow perusal, and then smiled a charming smile — about the only thing Rhys seems to have inherited from him — and welcomed you to his home for as long as you do so please.

It’s tranquil, there’s no doubt about that. Light and airy and so beautiful that you can forget, for a time, that there’s a world outside the City of Starlight. You’ve spent the last three days at Roza’s side, exploring the city and helping her run light errands, and attending to her at the end of the day when the pregnancy tires her out.

The High Lord — Finadar, or Fin, as you’ve learned most people call him — does no such thing. He does not visit his pregnant mate after long, tiring days. Does not summon her.

Despite the growing new arrival in her belly, there’s a distinct lack of love between the two of them that surprises you, perhaps more than anything else.

But tonight, with Roza joining him for a public appearance, you’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time in three days. And you’re desperate to do anything to fight them off.

You wander the long, spacious halls of the High Lord’s opulent home, warm, despite the brutal mountain range that stands guard around it. This is a level of luxury you were never built for, and don’t quite know what to do with. You read from Roza’s broad selection of literature, and gorge on sweets in the kitchen, and slide along the polished floors on your socks, because why the fuck not.

It’s better than thinking. Anything is better than thinking.

But as the night wears on and the silence gets too loud, it’s hard to keep deeper thoughts at bay. Your heart aches relentlessly over the broken shards of your loving friendship group that you don’t know how to glue back together. Your mind swoons longingly over old memories, old smiles. You’re a hollow vessel of complications, and regrets, and excruciating love—

“I heard you were here.” A trilling voice echoes from the far end of the hall you’re traversing.

You turn, and you think you might choke out a strangled noise of relief at the sight of shimmering, golden curls and warm, brown eyes, huge like a doe’s.

Mor looks far better than the last time you saw her, that’s for sure. She’s always radiant, no matter what she has going on, but the sun-kissed glimmer has returned to her skin, and the gaunt fragility from her hardships has been snuffed out by delicious, enviable curves.

You’re in front of her in what feels like a few great strides, and she’s cupping your face in her hands and kissing both of your cheeks.

“I’ve missed you.” You breathe, realising, in that moment, just how much you have. She doesn’t spend as much time in Windhaven as she used to, and gods, the absence of a sincere female friend is a weighty one.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Concern fills her eyes as she studies you.

“Rhys, Az and Cass aren’t here. It’s just me—”

“I know.” She links her arm through yours. “And let’s be glad of it. I’ve had enough of males to last me a damn eternity.” She’s barely taken a few steps forward before she’s stopping and studying you again. “Roza tells me you’re having a hard time.”

Just like that, you feel yourself begin to crumble. There’s something about the concern of others that utterly obliterates the walls you try to craft around yourself.

And at the first glimpse of tears filling your eyes, Mor is tugging you along again.

“Come.” She says. “I know where the High Lord keeps his stash of booze.”

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“You don’t ever come to Windhaven anymore. Why is that?”

There’s the slightest tensing in the set of Mor’s shoulders as she returns the stopper to a decanter containing dark amber liquid. She turns, handing you a glass.

“I figured you knew.” She says. “My father is being strict about me not spending time there.”

On some level, you think you did know. It’s not hard to figure it out.

For a time, Mor was a pretty frequent member of your friendship group, visiting as often as she could — until a few years ago, when a fight broke out between Cassian and Rhys, and then Mor just stopped coming around. The matter was swept under the rug and not mentioned again. But with her father being so strict—

“Ah.” You murmur, the pieces clicking into place. “Cass, huh?”

Mor snorts softly. “Yes. Cass.” She shakes her head fondly. “Before you ask, no, I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that. It was just…a choice I made for myself. And I’ve never regretted it, even if my father is determined to make my life hell because of it. But I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Her eyes rake over you. “Tell me everything.”

So, you do. The words come spilling out of you in a flurry of shame and heartache. You tell her every damn detail and spare none. And when you’re finally done, you take a breath and wonder — not for the first time — how the fuck you’ve managed to create this situation for yourself.

Mor frowns at you. “I—” She seems genuinely speechless. “Cauldron, I thought my situation was complicated.”

You shake your head. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Mor.”

“Why haven’t you told Azriel how you feel?”

“I wanted to. Gods, I planned to. But I supposed walking in on him and Kaeda made me realise that there’s no point.”

“First of all, that’s bullshit.” She takes a seat opposite you. “Love is one of very few things that there is always a point to. Your self-loathing my try to convince you otherwise, but it’s always better to be honest and face whatever outcome than suffer in silence and wonder what would have been.”

You open your mouth, but she’s holding up a hand.

“Secondly, I don’t like the sound of this Kaeda one bit. I know almost nothing about Fenlaros, but what I do know is that she must have some sort of backing — not just that of her Camp Lord father — that gives her the ability to flounce in and out of a rival camp at her leisure without a single consequence. And that tells me she’s up to something. And that makes me nervous that it’s Azriel, of all people, that she’s attached herself to. Not that Az isn’t a total catch — of course, he is. But he’s also a very, very rare gift who always has sights set on him. I’d wager that that plays into Kaeda’s interest somewhere.”

You fall still in your seat, staring back at her.

You feel damn stupid for not seeing what she’s laid out before you with such clarity.

“You…don’t believe Kaeda’s interest in Az is genuine?” You ask. “I wondered why she was hanging around Windhaven, but I didn’t think…”

“I think she has ulterior motives.” Mor shrugs. “And if Az is in a blinding haze of lust — or even love — it’s not something he’s going to see for himself. He’ll need proof.”

“How could I possibly give him proof of something I’m not even certain about myself?”

“Perhaps you should play Kaeda at her own game. Do some sniffing around her and see what you find out. You’d only be looking out for Az, after all.”

Would you, though? You can’t deny that your feelings, your jealousy, would play a part. You should want, for Azriel’s sake, Kaeda to be genuine, whether your heart would get broken or not. But what you truly want is to show Az that—

That you’re better for him than she ever would be.

You want nothing more from or for him, than to make him happy.

You drag your lower lip between your teeth in thought. “What if it blew up in my face, though? I could just…end up making Az even more mad at me than he already is.”

“Which brings me to my third point. Why are you allowing Az to act like you’ve done anything wrong?”

“I slept with Cassian…”

“Welcome to the club. Tell me, Y/N. are you tied down to anyone?”

“Well, no—”

“Did you and Az agree to only have sexual relations with each other?”

“No—”

“Have you ever sworn off exploring such things with your other friends?”

“No, Mor.”

“Then Azriel has no right to be freezing you out the way he is. Is it messy? Yes. Have you created some tricky drama for yourself? Also yes. But he’s a damn hypocrite if he’s chastising you in one breath and jumping into bed with Kaeda in another.”

“That’s the thing, though.” Your gaze lowers to the table. “He says he hasn’t done anything with Kaeda, and I don’t think he would lie about that. I think…had I slept with anyone outside of our circle, perhaps he wouldn’t have cared. But it being Cassian is just…a bit too close to home for him. Especially given that Az and I were doing things, too.”

The gorgeous blonde rolls her eyes. “So, it’s an ego thing. Give me a break. If he didn’t want you to sleep with anybody else, he should have communicated that. You both should have communicated better.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Listen…Az will sulk for a little while, because that’s just what males do. He clearly has things he needs to work through, and when he has, you should talk. But in the meantime, perhaps you should try to find some more out about Kaeda and her intentions — for no other reason than that Azriel is your closest friend and you’re looking out for him. Perhaps being in Velaris is a blessing in disguise — I’m sure the High Lord could tell you a thing or two about the Fenlaros lot, if you ask nicely.”

So wise, so brilliant, is Mor. A female with such a good head on her shoulders, despite an environment that tries to wreck her.

She just…rationalises things, in a way that you’re not able to. And you hadn’t even considered talking to the High Lord.

You take a slow, pensive draw from your glass as you think on it. And then you’re deciding, “Perhaps I will speak with the High Lord. There’s nothing wrong with showing an interest in a rival camp, after all.”

“No.” Mor flashes a feral grin. “There is not.”

Perhaps it’s selfish, something felt at Azriel’s expense — but setting yourself a little task like this is precisely what you need.

You’ve wondered for a while what the hell Kaeda is doing in Windhaven. You’re determined to find out, one way or another.

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Rhysand is balls deep and utterly lost in the male beneath him.

The noises that fill the room are sinful.

Midnight-kissed moans and panting as breathy and ethereal as a winter-chilled breeze.

This has been a long time coming, and Rhys is just so glad, in that moment, that he finally gets to be inside Zakai, that he thrusts deep and captures him in a full kiss. Zakai growls and grabs his ass, encouraging those thrusts.

Honestly? Rhys fucking needs this pleasure. Never did he think he’d actually be glad to get away to his room at the dormitories, but he needs a godsdamned break. Cassian’s sulking at the cottage has become unbearable since Roza swept Y/N off to Velaris.

If Cass and Az don’t sort their shit out soon, Rhys might just launch them off the peak of the nearest mountain.

Of course, they’d probably fight each other suspended in thin air, instead.

But he banishes those thoughts and gives himself entirely to Zakai, reaching down to fist at the pretty male’s cock. Neither of them will last long. This sex has been too highly anticipated, and it feels too good, and—

And the door is practically kicked in behind them. Azriel strides in as if it’s his fucking room.

“Get out, Az.” Rhys snarls, not faltering.

Az does not, in fact, get out. “Is it true Roza has taken Y/N to Ve—”

“For fuck’s sake.” He pulls out of Zakai with complete reluctance, grabbing clothes to cover them both. Zakai exhales a long sigh and tips his head back.

“Well?” Az demands. “Is it true?”

Rhys yanks some undershorts on. “Three days ago. You’d have found out sooner if you’d just quit your sulking and talk to us.”

“Why has she gone there?”

Zakai clears his throat, awkwardly shucking his clothes on. “Perhaps I should go…”

“No.” Rhys says.

But Az counters it with a dismissive, “Yes.”

The poor male stares between the two of them, and while he may have just been lying beneath the future High Lord, he doesn’t feel like getting in the way of a temperamental shadowsinger.

Rhys releases a yielding breath and grits his teeth. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Zak.”

That’s all it takes for his pretty lover to leave, sex now a distant memory. Azriel shuts the door behind him.

“So?” He rounds on Rhys. “Why is Y/N in Velaris?”

Rhys rolls his eyes at his tone. It’s not exactly any use for Az to be frantic now. Bit too late for that, he thinks.

“Because she needed a break from this place. From you and Cass and Kaeda.”

“I told Y/N that Kaeda and I have not done anything.”

“And maybe you haven’t, Azriel. That’s your business entirely.” He throws himself onto the bed. “But have you stopped for five fucking seconds, amidst your brooding and self-pitying, to consider how it might have made Y/N feel to be the practice run?”

Azriel goes preternaturally still. Doesn’t know what to say.

And that’s fine, Rhys reckons, because he’s nowhere near fucking finished.

“You explored that intimacy with her under the pretence that you were merely refining those skills for another female’s benefit.” He continues. “Whether it was initially Y/N’s idea or not, you should have recognised right away that she deserves better than that. And then you had the absolute fucking audacity to get mad at her for sleeping with Cassian, at the same time she would naturally assume you were sleeping with Kaeda, when you actually have no right to be angry. So what if she slept with Cass? So what, Azriel, that she fell into the arms of somebody who actually made her feel chosen, and not like she was just a stepping stone to a greater pleasure?”

Silence.

Stunned, heavy silence.

This room is far too small for such strong, impassioned words. They hang threateningly in the air, and Azriel feels like he’s watching them fly towards him in slow motion like poison arrows closing in on their target.

And then the shadowsinger croaks, finally, “It’s not—like that. I never wanted it to be like that.”

Rhys shrugs. “I’m not sure you even know what you intended, Az. The whole thing is one big mess. I mean…why haven’t you had sex with Kaeda, if that’s what you were practicing for? Do you even like her?”

Az says nothing.

The lack of an answer is precisely what Rhys is expecting. Even makes his lips kick up into a smile.

He thinks he’s pretty damn wise, does Rhysand.

“I’ll wager,” he goes on, eyeing Az knowingly, “that the practice wasn’t about Kaeda at all. Perhaps it was, the very first time Y/N offered.” He rests his hands behind his head. “But then something happened between the two of you — perhaps a kiss, maybe even some touching, and you were struck down by a realisation that the rest of us saw coming years ago. That what exists between you and Y/N goes beyond friendship. What you have is something special. And getting a little taster of that under the ruse of practice sent you on a downward spiral. So many emotions. So much angst. Suddenly, you were acting irrationally, getting into fights. Not over Kaeda, no, but over Y/N. Seeing her with other males makes you feel sick to your stomach. And that is why you’re so angry with Cassian. Because he had sex with Y/N, and you want her, not Kaeda. You love her.”

Well.

Azriel may as well be standing there stark naked, for all Rhys has stripped him bare.

He feels like his skin has been peeled from his bones and a patchwork of ugly truths lies in its place. He wouldn’t be overly surprised to glance down and see writing covering every inch of his body in bold, alarming ink that reads: I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N. I AM JEALOUS AND ARROGANT AND SELFISH. I AM SCARED.

He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t budge. “I never meant to make her feel like that.” He damn near wheezes, the words punching their way out of his lungs.

Rhys softens a little. “We know that, Az. But as long as you try to run from your feelings, you’ll be kicking dirt up at the people behind you.”

“I don’t…don’t know what to do — about anything.”

“You just need to stop trying to fool yourself. You need to make use of your space from Y/N and figure out what, exactly, it is you want, and what, exactly, you’re going to do about it. You need to accept that mistakes have been made all round, but not one of them is unable to be fixed. And you should start by mending things with Cassian.”

On instinct, Az scowls. He may know Rhys is right — and damn him for it, too — but he still can’t help being angry at Cass. The thought of his hands on Y/N—

“Wipe that look off your face, Azriel.” Rhys says drily. “You both know you miss each other, and you’re just as miserable as one another because of it. I’m not saying you should fix it today or even tomorrow — take your time to brood, if you like — but something has to give eventually. And if you won’t fix things for your sakes, do it for mine. Perhaps then I’ll be able to fuck Zakai and actually finish.”

This — these glimmers of wisdom and authority and reason — are like a little window into what Rhysand will one day be like as High Lord of the Night Court.

Azriel is glad of his friendship, his counsel. Even if he’s not quite ready to act on the advice yet.

“It’ll all be alright, Az.” Rhys says, studying him. The shadowsinger looks…lost. “But you should take the time to work things out before Y/N returns to Windhaven. She doesn’t need any more drama, and neither do you.”

Right again, of course.

Az can only manage to clear his throat and nod, before rasping out a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”

Rhys dips his chin. “I do love you, you know. I wouldn’t put sex aside for a conversation with just anyone.”

His answering smile is unconvincing. “I love you, too.”

“And you love Cass. So don’t wait too long to talk to him.”

Azriel inclines his chin. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

The shadowsinger shoots him one last look that says far more than he can articulate in that moment. And then he’s slipping out of the room.

And as he walks away, he can’t stop his thoughts from venturing to Fenlaros.

To how lost he would be without Rhys — and Cass, too — if he really did leave them behind.

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Roza is so godsdamned beautiful.

You can’t help feeling a little awestruck as you stand behind her, gently combing a brush through her night-black hair.

She stares into the mirror of her dressing table, her face a sheet of serene beauty. Through her nightgown, the swell of her bump shows proudly.

She seems pensive tonight, quieter than usual. Every few seconds, your gaze creeps to her reflection. Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can I ask you something?” You part the strands of her hair, beginning to tie them into a braid.

Roza’s eyes lift to yours. “Of course, my love.”

It takes you a long moment to work out how, exactly, to diplomatically word what you’re thinking. You imagine it might be a touchy subject.

“…You and the High Lord….” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You’re not…not quite what I expected — together, I mean.”

You’ve never seen a mating bond up close, but you’ve read about them enough to know that they should be intense, passionate, a love that is so altering that it’s almost gut-wrenching. You expected to catch a glimpse of that with Roza and Finadar, to see a bond that you may never have the honour of experiencing yourself, for how rare it supposedly is.

What you didn’t expect was the huge distance that exists between them. Not a single person could miss it.

There’s no desperation to see each other, be in one another’s company. They sleep in their own quarters of the house and only seem to come together for public appearances. The whole thing is…bizarre.

Roza smiles wryly at you in the mirror. “You mean, you didn’t expect the High Lord and I to be as separated as we are?”

“I just figured…with a mating bond…”

“A lot of weight is placed on a mating bond, little dove.” She swivels on the stool to face you properly. “I had the same thought as you, when I was younger. Fin and I tried to love one another, but…the fact of the matter is that mating bonds aren’t always right. He and I are so different, and sometimes that can be a beautiful thing. But in our case, it certainly is not.”

Your eyes fall down to her bump. “But the babe…”

“This babe was conceived on a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive whim that shouldn’t have happened. Not that I regret it.” Her hand strokes over her bump. “But sex and love are two very different things. Fin and I do not love each other. I’m only in Velaris because he only trusts his healer to see me through this pregnancy. We are mates in the loosest definition, but we are not committed to each other. And he has no problem reminding me of that, with all the females he invites to his bed as though I’m not in the same damn house as him. He’s an arrogant, salacious lech — but he’s also the father of my children, and my High Lord, too. So I choose not to confront it, because I don’t care enough to. The babe and I will be back in Windhaven soon enough.”

It makes your heart ache, makes you feel sick, to think that Roza is on the receiving end of such treatment. She deserves better. Deserves the world. Someone who will worship her like the goddess she damn well is.

It terrifies you to think that…that you could just as easily find yourself trapped in such a dire situation.

“What worries you?” Her violet eyes are soft, warm, as she reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek.

You place the hairbrush down, leaning against the dressing table. Your hand finds hers with a sad desperation. “Is love doomed, Roza? Is it real? If a mating bond can’t hold up, what hope do I have—”

“You have all the hope, dove. And as you should. You will love, and you will be loved. You just need to have the courage to face it and all that it comes with. Fin and I are a bad match. But there’s no reason to believe you’ll see the same fate. So just…don’t give up. Be brave and love.”

Tears blur your eyes as you stare down at her. You can’t stop yourself from moving your joined hands, both yours and hers, to rest on her bump. “This babe is the luckiest child in the entire world to have you for their mother.” You whisper. “And I will be honoured, Roza, to help you in any way I can when they’re born.”

She lifts your hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. “And I will be honoured to have you by my side.” She cracks a smile. “Perhaps you can start with making me some ginger tea before bed.”

A soft, breathy laugh leaves you. “Of course.”

Her beautiful smile follows you out of the room and into the dark, empty hallways. You feel strangely at peace tonight, more so than you have for a long while. Most likely thanks to Mor’s pep talk.

But after you’re done in the kitchen, a steaming cup of ginger tea clutched in your hands, a pair of booming male voices reach you from the antechamber. It piques your interest at once.

One voice is certainly that of the High Lord, but the other sounds somewhat familiar, too — like it’s one you’ve heard before, but not enough to place who it belongs to. It’s a dangerous, gruff baritone of a voice that seems almost impossibly deep.

You should mind your business, walk away…but it seems strange for the High Lord to receive a guest so late at night. Seems…clandestine, in nature.

And so you stay light on your feet, inching towards the door and peering through to the giant, opulent antechamber.

And that’s when you see the High Lord leading Tathaln Baralas, Kaeda’s father, in the direction of his study.

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #reader insert #illyrians #rhysand #cassian #practice on me

[diejager]

Crediting @cobwebs-in-autumn for the prompt

Simon Says Cw: stalking, protective!Simon, collar, pet names, obsession, tell me if I missed any.

Part 3

“ ‘Tis Simon?”

His low rumble left his throat, deep and domineering. This was the voice that scared Johnny so much? It was almost laughable how corny and cocky the other person sounded, the drawl in their voice when they said his name. They sounded too comfortable and too familiar to be a coincidence, to be an act out of pure coincidence (SImon knew it wasn’t, not with the dozens of calls made in the past week alone, or the scarily precise quirks and details about Johnny).

He glared out the living room’s window, a growl lashing out to the caller, searching for any signs of being watched. He didn’t necessarily know what he was looking for, knowing neither what nor who he was glaring at. If he went by the voice he was listening to, he’d imagine a man, perhaps broad and strong like him, or small and lean like Johnny. His eyes scanned the front porch, then he turned to the kitchen, stalking his way to stare out the glass panels, the light in the backyard porch out just like the rest of the house. It left their home dark and moody, eerily silent when Johnny wasn’t chatting his ears off.

“What are you doing, kitten?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, cut short and choppy, utilitarian despite fitting him so well, turning his rugged and haunted face into something enviable —handsome.

He heard a click from the other side, before they spoke up, a cheeky laugh ringing in his ear.

“Having fun, like you told me to, Si.”

“You’re having a bloody amazing time, aren’t you.”

He knew you were nodding, hearing your clothes rustling with the vigorous act, and your sweet, sweet laugh that made his knees weak. He knew you were doing this as per his plans - his orders - to spook Johnny, to have him fall further into his arms until he found the right time to introduce you to him, cementing you as the second pillar of normalcy and safety. You were strong and dependable, someone who he’d put his life on the line for, someone who he trusts with his whole being —just as you did with him, repaying him with a sick sense of devotion and love that he easily returned.

“Am I doing well, Si?”

He revelled in having the monopoly of both your attention, being the man that you and Johnny would come for affirmation, to feel accomplished and praised. He was drunk on this power you gave him, your breathy and whiny voice, asking for him to praise you with small gestures and words. You were the reason he left John half of the time, to find you in your little flat, collar tight around your neck and bell ringing when you greeted him at the door. Your little smile and skip in your step made his worst days brighter, turned the dark and haunting tolerable in his mind when Johnny was unavailable. You were an integral piece of his life that he needed to keep —needed to have.

“Wonderful, love,” he gave you the praise you so wanted, a small grin curling the corners of his lips when he found you crouching behind a bush, your white mask peeking over the greenery.

He loved your attire, a white mask mimicking the moment of a scream, curved cheek bones and a thin sheet covering both eyes and mouth. It was your way of feeling closer to him whenever he was away while you worked, dressing in tactical, yet aesthetically pleasing garments, completely black and grey to easily melt into the shadows. He watched you wave at him, fingers curling at him in a teasing greeting and the other holding your phone - the one he gifted you with - under your leather hood. If he stared hard and long enough, he’d be able to see the crease of pure pleasure and glee in your eyes, gleaming so brightly that it would’ve blinded him.

“I think it’s time, kit.”

You perked up at his words, body moving to show him your excitement and joy that he finally thought that it was time.

“Remember to lock the window when you’re out.”

“Of course! Of course!” You nodded eagerly, nearly falling on your hands and dropping the phone in your little dance, “See you tonight, Si.”

part 4

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysian @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

#x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Ghostface!reader #tw: stalking #tw: obsession #dead dove do not eat

[beautification-tales]

Late Bloomer

Penny often found herself standing in front of the mirror, examining her reflection with a critical eye. Her hair, dark and wavy, fell just past her shoulders; her eyes, a deep shade of green, were framed by long lashes. She had auburn freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones, and a mouth that was naturally curved into a frown. Her build was average; she wasn't thin, but she wasn't overweight either. She lived at home with her mother and often wondered if she was adopted.

Her mother, Janet, on the other hand, was nothing short of stunning. At the age of forty-five, she could easily pass for thirty. She had long, luscious hair that fell in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes were framed by long, thick lashes. Her figure was enviable, with a tiny waist, full breasts, and hips that swayed whenever she walked. Even now, when Penny was in college and Janet had been a stay-at-home mom for years, men still turned their heads whenever she stepped out of the house.

It was almost every day that Janet brought a man home. Sometimes they were neighbors, other times they were colleagues, or even complete strangers she had met at the grocery store. It didn't matter who they were; they all seemed to be drawn to her mother's irresistible charm and beauty. Penny, on the other hand, often felt invisible in comparison. She knew she was pretty in her own way, but she couldn't help but feel like she was overshadowed by her mother's presence. Penny enjoyed the excuse of her studies as it let her out of the house. She couldn’t really study with the noises her mother and her “guest” would make all night.

Penny's life began to change when she met Roger at the school library. He was a classmate who was always fun to talk to, and they quickly became friends. They shared similar interests, like reading comics and anime, and they often found themselves spending time together outside of class. As they got to know each other better, Penny began to see herself through Roger's eyes. He thought she was beautiful and unique, and he made her feel special in ways that no one else could.

One day, Penny made the mistake of bringing Roger to her home. She was excited to show him where she came from and introduce him to her mother, but she hadn't expected the consequences. Janet came home dressed in a tight black dress as her ample bosom shook with each step as her ankle boots hit each step. Penny could see Roger gulp as he eyed her mother with a look that Penny had seen so many times before.

“Well, well, well look what little Penny brought home.” Janet said as she approached them on the couch.

Roger jumped up and offered his hand to shake. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Johnson."

Penny's eyes widened at the mention of her mother's last name. It was the first time anyone had called her by that name since she was a little girl. "Mom, this is Roger. We've been friends for a while now," she said, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Well, Roger, it's nice to finally meet you," Janet said, her voice low and seductive. She placed a hand on Roger's arm, as Roger smiled . Penny couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. "I understand you two have been studying together a lot lately. How nice."

"Yeah, we've had some pretty interesting discussions," Roger replied, not taking his eyes off Janet.

Penny felt her heart sink as she watched the interaction between her mother and Roger. She knew exactly where this was going, and she didn't want it to happen. But she didn't know how to stop it. As the conversation continued, Janet leaned in closer to Roger, laughing at something he said. Penny could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nervously.

“Little Penny has always been a shy girl. She hardly talks to boys unless you count Naruto or any of those Anime characters on the tv she’s always watching.”

Penny’s face grew red with embarrassment as Janet talked about her. “Mom! Really?” She protested.

Janet gave Penny a knowing smile. "Oh, don't worry, dear. You know your mother only has your best interests at heart." She reached over and gave Penny's cheek a soft pat. "Now, why don't I give you two some privacy.”

“ Ms. Johnson you don’t have to go. I mean I would like to hear more embarrassing stories.”

Roger's words cut through Penny like a knife. She felt a mixture of anger, hurt, and betrayal. How could he want to hear more about her mother? Wasn't he supposed to be her friend?

“Oh no, unfortunately I have a date tonight. So I better get going but Roger… you can call me Janet.”

Penny felt her anger rising as she watched her mother saunter away, making sure to sway her hips just enough for Roger to get a good view. She wanted to scream, to hit something, to make this all stop. But instead, she turned to Roger and felt a lump forming in her throat. "Roger, I-I thought you would be different.”

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw regret flicker across his features. But then he smiled, a sad, forced smile that did nothing to reassure her. "I am different," he said, his voice quiet. "But Penny, I'm also a guy. And, well... your mom is like remarkably hot. It's kind of hard not to notice."

“Yeah, trust me every guy notices and it pisses me off. Now you can see why I don’t talk to guys!” Penny felt a rage that had been building inside her finally explode within her as tears began to roll down her face.

Roger looked conflicted as he glanced at her, then away. Finally, he moved closer, taking her hands in his. "Penny, I'm sorry. I really like you and trust me I notice you.”

Penny smiled believing Roger’s words she leaned forward and kissed him.

Her heart beat faster as they continued to kiss. She could feel the heat between them, and it seemed to intensify with each passing moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the sensation of his lips on hers, his hands tangled in her hair. It was as if they were the only two people in the world, and nothing else mattered.

As their lips parted, she looked into his eyes, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something shift within him. His pupils were dilated, his skin flushed. It was as if she'd unleashed something primal inside him. She felt a thrill of power course through her veins, and she knew that she was the one who'd done it.

Penny’s eyes began to glow as she inhaled Roger’s breath. Penny didn’t notice as her body instinctively breathed in the air. They stopped kissing as Penny continued to suck the air from Roger’s lungs. Roger in a trance continued to exhale but in a moment he collapsed as Penny became aware of her surroundings.

She released Roger and gasped as she looked at him on the floor. However, before she could tend to him , she felt a burning sensation all over her body. It started as a tingle, but quickly grew into an all-consuming fire. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her limbs felt heavy, and her vision blurred. She could feel her skin begin to char and peel, revealing raw, bloody flesh beneath.

The pain was excruciating, and she thought that she was dying. But it was then the pain subsided as she felt her skin heal revealing tan unblemished skin. The transformation no longer felt painful as her body felt brand new in this new skin.

Her breasts felt fuller and heavier as they strained against the fabric of her shirt. She could feel them still growing as buttons popped off her shirt making room for her new bosom. She felt her hips widen, and her ass grow rounder. She glanced down at her hands, marveling at the softness of her new tan skin and the delicate length of her fingernails. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and she could swear it felt thicker and more lustrous.

She felt the pleasure within her grow as unable to fight the feeling her hips began to gyrate as if she was giving a lap dance to a lucky patron. Penny’s moans filled the home rousing Roger to consciousness. Her voice began to shift to a melodic tone. She picked up speed as her thighs got even thicker and her ass even juicier. She looked back in joy as she felt her tongue roll out of her mouth.

Her eyes shifted to Roger as he looked at her with awe. His eyes traced her body as if he was seeing her for the first time. Penny's heart fluttered as she saw the desire in his eyes. She wanted to please him, to make him feel the way she felt. She moved closer to him, her breasts brushing against his chest.

Her scent, a heady mix of jasmine and feminine musk, filled his nostrils, making it difficult for him to think straight. His hands reached up, cupping her breasts through her shirt, feeling their weight and fullness. She arched her back, pushing her chest further into his hands.

Her hips continued to move in a hypnotic circle, her ass cheeks slapping against his thighs as she ground herself against him. He could feel his arousal growing, straining against his pants. His gaze dropped lower, taking in the curve of her spine, the roundness of her ass, the softness of her skin.

Penny moaned, the sound vibrating against his chest as she arched her back even further. Her breasts spilled free from her shirt, their fullness pressing against his chest. He cupped them, feeling their weight in his hands, before running his thumbs over her nipples, eliciting a gasp from her.

Her movements grew more urgent, her hips undulating faster as she ground herself against him. Her skin glistened with sweat, her cheeks flushed. He could see the desire in her eyes, the need for him to touch her, to make her feel good.

He moved his hands to her hips, guiding her as she continued to grind against him. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each breath. He could feel his own control slipping, the need to be inside her growing stronger with each passing moment.

With a swift motion, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and freed his aching erection. Penny moaned loudly, the sound filling the room as she took in the sight of him, hard and ready for her. He pulled her shirt off over her head, revealing her soft, tan skin. Her breasts, full and round, spilled free from her bra, her nipples hard and peaked.

She reached down, taking him in her hand, stroking him gently at first before wrapping her fingers around him and beginning to stroke faster, her movements in perfect rhythm with her hips. Roger gasped, feeling the pleasure coursing through him as he watched her touch him, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her breasts swayed with each breath, brushing against his chest as she moved closer, their nipples teasing him. Her hips gyrated, her ass cheeks slapping against his thighs, driving him wild with desire. He could feel the head of his cock brushing against her wetness, and with a groan, he pushed her back onto the bed, burying himself inside her in one powerful thrust.

She cried out, arching her back as he filled her completely. Her nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on as their hips met in a frenzied rhythm. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each breath as she looked up at him, their eyes locked in a passionate gaze.

Roger felt his control slipping further away with each thrust, each moan that escaped Penny's lips. He leaned forward, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as he savored the feel of her body moving beneath him. His hips pumped harder, faster, driving deeper inside her with each stroke.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back, urging him to go faster, harder. He obliged, feeling the pleasure building within him, the pressure growing in his groin. He could feel his release building, the urge to empty himself inside her overwhelming.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, their breaths mingling as they gasped for air. Roger's thrusts grew more frenzied, his hips slamming into her with unbridled passion. Penny arched her back off the bed, her eyes clenched shut as she felt the waves of pleasure wash over her.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, urging him on, begging for more. Her legs squeezed tight around his waist, her body tensing as she neared her own release. Roger could feel it building within her, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. He leaned down, capturing one of her nipples between his lips, sucking hard as he continued to drive into her.

Their skin slapped together, their sweat mingling as they moved together in perfect rhythm. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each ragged intake of air. His own breaths grew labored, his hips thrusting harder, faster. He could feel the end approaching, the inevitable release building inside him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching off the bed, her breasts flushed and peak. Her legs squeezed tight around him, her muscles tensing as she neared her own climax. With a moan that escaped deep from her throat, she came, her body tensing and shuddering beneath him.

Roger felt the tension in her release, the wave of pleasure that passed through her, and with a groan, he gave in to his own release, thrusting deep inside her one final time. His hips bucked, his body tensed, and he let out a hoarse cry as he emptied himself inside her.

Their bodies trembled together, their hearts racing, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. They collapsed in each other arms oblivious to their surroundings.

They were awakened by a returning Janet giggling with her new boy toy for the night.

"Penny! Roger! In the living room?”

Roger's eyes snapped open, and he realized they were still in the same position they had been in before their passionate interlude. Penny's head was resting on his chest, her hand lazily tracing circles on his stomach. He gently prodded her awake. "Umm... Penny?" he whispered.

She lifted her head and smiled drowsily at him. "Hmm?"

"Your mom is home!”

“Penny did you fuck in the living room?”

Penny giggled, nuzzling back into Roger's chest. "Not exactly, Mom. We were just..." She trailed off, blushing deeply. "Um, we were just talking."

Janet's voice grew louder as she walked down the hall, the sound of her footsteps drawing closer. Penny closed her eyes, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Oh, God," she whispered. "She's going to kill us."

Roger chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. "I don't think she'll kill us," he said. "But she might be a little upset." He rolled off her, and pulled his pants and underwear.

Penny stood up now taller and curvaceous. Janet stopped in her tracks as she examined her daughter.

"Well, well, well. Look at you two. Did you have fun in here?" she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and disapproval.

“It’s about time you finally transformed Penny.”

#beautification #transformation #breast expansion #f2f transformation #bimboification #origin stories

[lynetianya]

Gym Buddies [ Ryujin X Reader ]

Ryujin, a famous idol known for her beauty and charisma, unexpectedly falls for a gym-goer with a cute personality and a gorgeous body. As they become workout partners, Ryujin's admiration for her new friend deepens.

GENRE : Fluff

TYPE : One Shot, All Gender

Ryujin was used to the spotlight. As a famous idol, she had fans who adored her from all corners of the world. With her striking looks and charismatic presence, she was undoubtedly one of the hottest celebrities around. But little did she know that her world was about to change when she encountered you, a seemingly ordinary person who possessed a special charm.

It all started one sunny morning at the local gym. Ryujin had always been a fitness enthusiast, and she rarely missed her workouts. On this particular day, she arrived at the gym, dressed in stylish activewear that showcased her enviable curves and toned physique. Her presence turned heads as usual, but what caught her attention was you, a regular gym-goer who had a cute personality and a gorgeous body that was hard to ignore.

As Ryujin began her workout routine, she couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your dedication to your exercises was admirable, and your friendly demeanor was infectious. It was as if your presence had a magnetic pull on her, slowly breaking down the walls she had built around herself as a celebrity.

Over the next few weeks, Ryujin and you found yourselves working out together more often than not. It started with a casual conversation about your workout routines, and before they knew it, you were inseparable gym buddies. Ryujin was amazed by your strength and determination, and she couldn't help but admire you from afar.

One day, she mustered up the courage to ask you if you'd like to work out together. Your eyes lit up with excitement as you agreed, and from that moment on, your gym sessions became a joint endeavor. Ryujin, who was used to being the center of attention, found solace in the fact that you treated her like any other person.

As the days turned into weeks, your bond deepened. Ryujin was drawn to your cute personality, and she found herself sharing her thoughts and dreams with you. She realized that she could be her true self around you, without the need for the mask of a famous idol. And you, in turn, were enamored by her kindness and down-to-earth nature.

Ryujin had always been known for her fashion sense, and she loved buying clothes that accentuated her curves and muscles. However, she discovered a newfound joy in helping you pick out stylish workout gear. You were surprised by her willingness to help, but Ryujin insisted that it was her way of showing appreciation for your friendship.

Shopping trips with Ryujin became a regular occurrence. She would carefully select outfits that she thought would enhance your natural beauty. The two of you would spend hours in boutiques, trying on different styles and laughing together. It was during these moments that Ryujin realized she had fallen for you, not just as a workout partner but as something more.

Ryujin was not just a gym buddy; she had become your confidante and best friend. She had a unique way of making you feel special, both inside and out. She showered you with compliments, reminding you of your beauty and worth. She called you her baby, a term of endearment that made your heart skip a beat.

Whenever you faced criticism or negativity from others, Ryujin was there to lift you up. She would hold you close and reassure you that their words didn't matter. She reminded you that you were strong, beautiful, and deserving of all the love in the world. With her by your side, you felt invincible.

Ryujin couldn't contain her feelings any longer. She had fallen deeply in love with you, and it was evident to everyone around her. She would brag about you to her fellow idols and the staff, proudly declaring that she had the most loving and protective girlfriend in the world.

One evening, as you both sat on the rooftop of her apartment building, watching the city lights twinkle below, Ryujin couldn't hold back any longer. With a nervous yet determined smile, she took your hand and looked into your eyes.

"Y/N," she began, her voice trembling with emotion, "I can't imagine my life without you. You've brought so much happiness and love into my world. Will you be mine, officially? Will you be mine?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart overflowing with joy. In that moment, under the starry night sky, Ryujin leaned in, and your lips met in a sweet, passionate kiss.

From that day forward, your love story with Ryujin continued to blossom. You were no longer just gym buddies but soulmates who shared a deep and unbreakable bond. Your relationship was a testament to the power of love and how it could break through the barriers of fame and fortune.

And as you held hands and walked through life together, you both knew that your love story was the most beautiful adventure you had ever embarked upon. Ryujin, the hot idol, and you, the one who had the ability to make her mask crumble with your cute personality and gorgeous body, were destined to create a love story for the ages, one that would be cherished forever.

END

My Masterlist

#ryujin #ryujin oneshot #ryujin itzy #itzy oneshot #itzy fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #ryujin x reader #ryujin x you #itzy

[growingexjocks]

A Musical Break - Nick Jonas: Ch 1

Short WG Story #1

Nick's most recent concert tour has ended, and he has learned the joys of taking a break and learning to indulge in life's greatest pleasure, food.

Nick Jonas, with his smoldering good looks and irresistibly chiseled physique, can make hearts race at the mere sight of him. Standing at a sleek 5 feet 7 inches (170 cm), he emanates a magnetic energy that is impossible to ignore. His dark brown locks, styled to perfection, frame his sultry brown eyes that can make anyone swoon.

Nick's dedication to fitness is evident in his toned, sculpted body, with each muscle rippling under his sun-kissed skin. When he's not serenading the world with his golden voice, he can be found pushing his limits in the gym, sweat glistening on his forehead as he conquers the weights. His sense of style is impeccable, his outfits always showcasing his enviable figure. From casual streetwear to sharp suits, Nick Jonas never fails to turn heads and leave a lasting impression.

As Nick Jonas' tour comes to an end, a newfound sense of relaxation washes over him. The once-disciplined and hardworking performer finds himself succumbing to the comfort of his plush couch, as the enticing glow of Netflix takes over his daily routine. With the remote in hand, he dives into a world of binge-watching, leaving behind the grueling workouts that once defined his sculpted physique.

As the days turn to weeks, Nick's once-toned muscles begin to soften, transforming into a more relaxed and rounded appearance. The tautness of his abdomen fades away, replaced by a gentle curve that hints at his growing appetite for indulgent snacks and late-night takeout. His once prominent jawline starts to blur, giving way to a fuller face that bespeaks his more sedentary lifestyle.

The clothes that once fit him like a glove now strain to contain his expanding frame. Buttons on his stylish shirts begin to protest, their threads stretching to the limit as they fight to hold back the newfound softness of his chest and stomach. His once perfectly tailored trousers now dig into his hips, leaving a mark, reminding him of the days when they draped effortlessly over his toned legs. His butt has become an eccentuated peach shape that presses against his board shorts whenever he goes to the beach.

Despite these changes, Nick still exudes a warmth and charm that is uniquely his own. His appearance may have shifted, but his magnetic charisma and talent remain unshaken – a testament to the essence of the man behind the music.

Nick looks in the mirror, noticing the tightness of his clothing, but swiftly dismisses the thought, attributing it to a mere laundry mishap. He convinces himself that it's nothing more than a minor issue, refusing to acknowledge the signs of his changing body.

His brothers, Kevin and Joe, grow increasingly concerned as they observe Nick's transformation. The time comes for a family dinner at their favorite restaurant, and they can't help but notice how the fabric of his shirt strains to contain his newfound curves, the buttons appearing to be on the verge of popping off. They exchange worried glances but refrain from passing any comments, hoping that Nick will recognize the situation himself.

As the waiter arrives to take their orders, Kevin and Joe opt for their usual, well-balanced meals. Nick, however, seems to be in a world of his own, perusing the menu with a ravenous glint in his eyes. His voice drips with anticipation as he orders dish after dish, his appetite a seemingly bottomless pit.

The waiter, assuming Nick has finished ordering, starts to turn away to submit their orders to the kitchen. But Nick, with a hint of indignation, clears his throat and interjects, "Excuse me, I'm not done ordering yet, actually." The waiter's eyes widen with surprise as Nick continues, adding even more plates to his already abundant selection. He finishes off his order with a rich, creamy milkshake, its frothy thickness promising a delectable indulgence.

Nick then raises a finger, signaling the waiter to wait, and adds, "And when we're done with our meals, please come back for dessert orders." His brothers exchange another concerned glance, but they hold their tongues, not wanting to dampen the mood of their reunion.

As the night progresses, Nick dives into his culinary extravaganza with gusto. His brothers watch, their worry growing, as they hope that their beloved sibling will soon realize the need for a change and find his way back to a healthier, more balanced lifestyle.

Nick's insatiable hunger takes center stage as he devours his meal with an intensity that leaves his brothers in awe. He wolfs down the juicy burger in just three enormous bites, the flavors exploding in his mouth with each satisfying chomp. His appetite seemingly knows no bounds; he proceeds to fold half of his pizza into a taco-like creation, biting into it with gusto.

As he continues to shovel food into his mouth, the strain on his black button-up shirt intensifies. The fabric stretches to its limit, revealing glimpses of his once-hidden pale white skin. The buttons appear to be mere moments away from surrendering to the pressure of his burgeoning belly.

With each bite, Nick's appearance evolves – his cheeks grow rosier, his jawline less defined, and his once-prominent collarbones are now concealed beneath a layer of softness. His eyes, however, still gleam with the same magnetic charm that has always defined him.

Nick pauses for a moment to sip deeply from his thick, creamy milkshake, the cool sweetness a welcome contrast to the mountain of savory dishes he's consumed. He finishes half the shake before leaning back in his chair, letting out a satisfied burp. He rubs his now-distended gut, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it is nearly touching the table's edge.

The sight of Nick's changing appearance, his once-fit form giving way to a softer, more indulgent version of himself, is undeniably captivating. His brothers watch with a mix of concern and fascination, wondering if this newfound appetite will be a passing phase or a more permanent shift in their beloved sibling's life.

The brothers glance down at their own stomachs, their taut and trim physiques a stark contrast to the sight before them. They exchange glances, and Joe finally musters up the courage to address the elephant in the room.

"Hey, Nick," Joe asks, his voice laced with concern, "are you full yet?"

Nick, in between bites of his pizza, shakes his head, "No way, man, I'm starving!" He finishes the last slice and moves on to the mountain of fries before him. His increasing hunger seemingly knows no bounds, and he begins to shovel fistfuls of fries into his mouth with fervor.

As he struggles to keep up with his ravenous appetite, his brothers watch in disbelief. They can see how his throat contracts with each bite, making room for the avalanche of food descending into his now-bulging gut. The salt from the fries intensifies Nick's thirst, prompting him to guzzle down the remainder of his milkshake.

Throughout this indulgent feast, Nick's clothing continues to tighten around his expanding frame. His black shirt strains to contain his swelling belly, which now protrudes further over his belt than before. The once-loose fabric clings to his body, offering a tantalizing glimpse of his transformation.

The brothers find it hard to reconcile the sight before them with their memories of Nick's rigorous workout routines and disciplined diet. They recall the days when he would opt for salads at dinner and resist the lure of sweet treats, his focus on fitness unwavering. Nick's metamorphosis leaves them both fascinated and concerned.

As Nick finishes the last of his milkshake, he slurps eagerly at the straw, attempting to extract every last drop of the decadent concoction. Unsatisfied, he lifts the cup to his lips, tilting it to capture the remnants of the fattening cream. Some of it drips onto his mouth and stains his black shirt, but he seems unfazed by the mess.

In this moment of unbridled indulgence, Nick feels a surge of excitement course through him. The act of satisfying his hunger in such an unrestrained manner ignites a primal thrill within him, and he embraces the unfamiliar sensation with guilty pleasure. His transformation, though alarming to his brothers, has awakened a newfound passion within him – a passion for the unapologetic pursuit of satisfaction.

As Nick recognizes the feeling of gluttony within him, he becomes increasingly aware of the thrill it brings. As he indulges in his seemingly endless desire for more food, he finds himself strangely aroused by the experience. Leaning back in his chair and distancing himself from the table, he places his hands on his gut and begins to rub his belly in slow, deliberate circles.

Despite feeling full, Nick knows he hasn't had dessert yet – the cheesecake at this restaurant has always been his favorite, and he can't bear to pass it up when they're in town. As he continues to rub his belly in an attempt to make room for dessert, his brothers can't help but stare at the sight before them.

Their gazes are drawn to the bottom of Nick's black shirt, where some buttons have popped off due to the strain of his expanding gut. His belly button now peeks through the opening, and his shirt rests on the crest of his bloated stomach, the bottom pieces of cloth parted open from the missing buttons.

The brothers find themselves both intrigued and repulsed by the sight of Nick shamelessly rubbing his gut in public. As he releases a massive burp, the sensation of relief it brings turns him on even more. His arousal intensifies, becoming rock hard and pulsing with each rub of his belly.

In this moment, Nick is completely lost in the sensual pleasure of his own gluttony, oblivious to the concerned and bewildered stares of his brothers. 

As the waiter approaches their table, responding to Nick's loud burp, he asks if they're ready for the check. Nick, however, is far from finished. With determination in his eyes, he informs the waiter that he still hasn't had his dessert and proceeds to order an entire cheesecake for himself. The waiter's eyes widen in disbelief, but he dutifully brings the dessert to the table.

Nick's brothers watch in awe and concern as he proceeds to grab thick slices of the cheesecake and shovel them into his mouth with reckless abandon. The rich, creamy dessert disappears at an alarming rate, and Joe can no longer contain his frustration.

"Nick, this is ridiculous! You're acting like a pig," Joe exclaims, trying to appeal to Nick's sense of dignity. In response, Nick simply leans over and burps loudly in Joe's face, unapologetic and defiant.

Appalled by their brother's behavior, Joe and Kevin leave the restaurant, their eyes lingering on Nick's transformed appearance. His belly is now taut and round, straining the shirt's remaining buttons to the point where red marks are etched into his flesh. Unfazed by their departure, Nick mutters "good riddance" under his breath as he pays the bill and requests the leftover cheesecake to go.

He struggles to pull himself out of the chair, his bloated stomach making it difficult to find his balance. With labored breaths, he stumbles out of the restaurant, the sensation of his overfull gut sending waves of excitement through his body. His arousal grows stronger, fueled by the undeniable thrill of his gluttonous indulgence.

Once home, Nick collapses onto his bed, the weight of his food coma pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. As he lies there, his mind replays the events of the evening, savoring the memory of each delectable bite and the increasingly tight embrace of his clothing. The sight of his expanded abdomen, straining against the fabric of his shirt, fills him with a forbidden pleasure, feeding his desire to push the limits of his gluttony even further.

As the night wears on, Nick remains lost in his fantasies, the intensity of his arousal growing alongside the memory of his uninhibited feast. The transformation of his body, a testament to his newfound desire for excess, leaves him yearning for more – a hunger that cannot be easily quenched.

Nick wakes up the next morning, feeling the weight of his indulgence from the night before. He groggily rolls out of bed, his body feeling heavier than usual. Despite the lingering remnants of his food coma, he makes his way to the full-length mirror in his bedroom to assess the damage.

As he stands before the mirror, he is struck by the sight of his transformed appearance. His once-toned and sculpted physique has given way to a softer, rounder version of himself. Nick's face is noticeably fuller, with his once-prominent jawline now softened. His once-chiseled chest and arms have become smoother and more relaxed, a testament to his recent overindulgence.

His eyes are drawn to his midsection, where the most significant change has occurred. His once-flat stomach now protrudes outward, a gentle curve that hints at the countless meals he has consumed in recent days. The waistband of his pants digs into his hips, leaving a visible mark on his skin, a stark reminder of the weight he has gained.

Nick estimates that he must have gained a significant amount of weight since he first started indulging in his newfound appetite. The exact number is uncertain, but the change in his appearance is undeniable. He can't help but feel a mix of apprehension and excitement at this transformation, with a lingering thrill from the previous night's gluttony still coursing through his veins.

As he continues to examine himself in the mirror, he wonders if his weight gain is obvious.

Despite the uncertainty, Nick can't deny the strange satisfaction he feels as he takes in his new appearance. The sensation of his clothes straining against his expanded frame, the memory of each decadent bite, and the thrill of pushing his body's limits all contribute to a growing desire within him – a desire to explore the boundaries of his appetite and the limits of his own self-control.

Nick's newfound appetite continues to consume him, as he embarks on a journey of gluttonous indulgence. Each day, he finds himself craving more and more food, the excitement of pushing his limits growing stronger with each passing meal.

As the weeks go by, Nick's body continues to evolve in response to his voracious appetite. His face, once defined by sharp angles and prominent cheekbones, now takes on a rounder, more cherubic appearance. His neck, once lean and muscular, has softened, giving way to a gentle fullness that hints at his growing desire for excess.

His shoulders and arms, which once showcased his dedication to fitness, have also succumbed to the effects of his overeating. The once-prominent muscles are now concealed beneath layers of softness, as his once-taut biceps and triceps adopt a more relaxed and pliable form.

Nick's chest, too, has transformed. His once-firm pectorals have softened, losing some of their definition as they yield to the consequences of his indulgence. The once-prominent lines that separated his abdominal muscles have all but disappeared, as his stomach continues to expand outward, forming a round and prominent curve.

His lower body has not been spared from the effects of his overeating. His hips have widened, stretching the waistband of his pants to the point where they are now visibly strained. His thighs, once lean and powerful, have also succumbed to the softening effects of his indulgence, their former definition now hidden beneath a layer of comforting fullness.

Despite the undeniable changes to his body, Nick finds himself increasingly drawn to the thrill of his gluttony. The sensation of his clothes tightening around his growing frame, the challenge of pushing his body's limits, and the pure satisfaction of giving in to his desires all serve to fuel his hunger for more.

More WG Stories by me - Tumblr, Wattpad

#Nick Jonas #Male Celebrity WG Short Stories Collection #ex jock #ex jock story potential #A Musical Break #fat male celebrities #gainer stories inspo #fit2fatcelebrity #weight gain edit #fat belly #gaining

[meatballlady]

Hands down one of my favorite fics in the fandom. This is an excerpt from a Crowley POV section where he realizes he's falling for Aziraphale:

[Aziraphale] squeezed [Anathema] enviably close and kissed her cheek softly and whispered some wise encouragement, all the while smiling that brilliant, honest, comforting, fear-banishing, heart-stopping smile --

Hang on, thought Crowley.

Uh-oh.

Um.

Anathema left. Aziraphale folded his hands and watched her go, chuckling musically no seriously, musically to himself. His blue-grey eyes sparkled but like, for real, genuinely fucking sparkled with amusement. His unruly platinum curls were illuminated like goddamned stained glass what the HELL is going ON with me by the midday sun streaming down through the upper windows.

“Shit,” said Crowley.

“Indeed,” Aziraphale concurred, though not with Crowley’s actual thought. “Six weeks of travel and no book. I don't envy poor Newton.” He bent over to pack up the scattered contents of his messenger bag, which showed off his sturdy legs and the curve of his inviting --

Fuck. FUCK. Uh-oh. Um. Shit shit shit SHIT

“I expect she'll make it through the day, though. And it’s probably a very good sign that her husband-to-be knows how to bring her round.” Aziraphale sat down again with a small contented sigh. “Well. We have a few more minutes to ourselves. What do you say, my dear, shall I finish you off?”

“What?” Crowley squawked in falsetto.

Aziraphale held up the little bottle of red nail polish with a grin and an exaggerated wink. It was embarrassing. It was pathetic. It was the worst.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck,” Crowley exhaled all at once.

“Are you all right, Crowley?”

“I -- nnfgh -- unnnnhh, yyyeah.” No. Definitely no. NO. “Of course. Obviously.”

Fic here:

#fic rec #definitely not mine #just sharing one of my favorites #good omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #aziracrow

[violettduchess]

A/N: A little something featuring the birthday boy 💜

Leon x Reader

WC: ~500

He runs his hands over your flushed skin, fingertips trailing over the red marks left by his teeth on your shoulder. His dark brow creases as he leans over you to place kisses soft as raindrops over the spot, as if attempting to wash away the evidence of the beast that had emerged in the heat of the moment. You catch his face, lifting it away from your shoulder and smile, that beautiful curve of your lips that's always a balm to his heart. Your voice, still airy and thin as your body comes back down from the stars, murmurs his name, reassuring him that nothing he did pained you, that everything was desired and welcome. He lowers his forehead until it touches yours, reveling in the feel of your fingers holding him, the palms of your hands cradling him as the sky cradles the moon.

And then he rises, pulling away from the temptation of your warmth and bare skin and sits on the edge of the bed, stretching, as you roll onto your side to enjoy the performance of muscular shoulders and back, the flex of his powerful arms. He twists to look at you over his shoulder, his eyes pools of liquid gold framed by the most enviable black lashes. He reaches out a hand and you meet him, fingers interlacing as naturally as breathing.

“Hungry, love?”

Laughter fizzes up from your chest, spilling out as you release his hand, falling back against the red satin pillows of his bed.

“What?” But his smile is now a grin because he knows, he knows exactly why you are shaking your head, amusement brightening your eyes.

“The day Leon Dompteur is not hungry afterwards is the day the world ends.”

He tilts his head, one dark brow arched as he regards you, but his eyes are still warm with affection. 

“Ravishing you was simply not enough for this beast. I require more sustenance.” And then he lets out a playful growl, pouncing and scooping you into his arms as you cry out in surprise and delight. “So that I may ravish you again later.” He pretends to bite your neck and you wrap your arms around him, pure joy winding itself around your heart like ribbons of sunlight.

“Alright, alright.” You brush his wild mess of dark hair away from his face gently. “We’ll go find some food for my hungry lion.”

He drops one more feather-light kiss on your lips and then practically leaps from the bed. 

“I’m certain there must be honey rolls left, if Luke hasn’t devoured them all.” He ties his black satin robe around his body, his royal insignia embroidered over his heart. “And if not….I know where Yves hides the cookies.”

“Of course you do.” 

You slip into your own robe, the one that matches his, and then take his outstretched hand as you both slip out of his room, trying and failing to cover the sound of your impish laughter, as you hurry through the quiet, shadow-dark halls of the palace, holding on tight to the love of your life.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

and a special shoutout to @leonscape 💜

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri leon #ikemen leon #leon dompteur #afterglow series #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #violettwrites

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Rituals/Tradition

With art for this from @the-red-butterfly 💖💖💖 (Please show her some love!!!)

In the tradition of Cursed Cards, have some more photograph shenanigans...

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon (yes, still half-cousins!)

Words: 2 240

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings

“Finno, are you coming?”

Fingon was about to let his phone drop to the low coffee table in his parents’ living room when the soft chime of a text message caught his attention.

Have fun skiing with your family! <3

Rereading the message while sweating profusely in the heavily padded costume, Fingon gripped the device a little harder when a second chime announced an addition to Russo’s parting communication.

The yearly family trip to the mountains was a well-established and cherished tradition, but Fingon would have gladly skipped it if his beloved had been amenable to staying home with him instead.

Alas, his lover—just as fond and faithful where family traditions were concerned—spent the winter holidays first on a boating trip, even though none of his six brothers was a particularly good seafarer, and then holed up in a remote cabin in a picturesque forest.

“You are very welcome to come to the cabin later in the week, if Tyelko’s shanties are not to your liking,” Russo had joked, and—afraid of intruding—Fingon had smiled warmly and declined.

A part of him regretted not having jumped at the opportunity from that very moment on, and—breaking with tradition little by little—he had purposefully dawdled when leaving for his own family holiday so he could take his own car to the ski resort.

He wondered whether his siblings had missed him on their rowdy, noisy, exasperating drive; Fingon truly felt sorry for not spending more time with them and for letting his mind drift away whenever he actually was by their side.

“Are you coming or not? No phone!” Turgon repeated, his stern, noble brow creased with impatience and annoyance.

“I don’t know how Elenwë—or anyone else, for that matter—bears your endless nagging,” Fingon grumbled, sensing that his whole plans were about to be derailed as his thumb slid across the screen towards the little envelope, decorated by that alluring red dot. “I won’t be a minute.”

He should go, he knew it, but he could not bear to leave a message from his lover unopened. What if he needed help? What if it was an emergency?

Clicking on it, he sealed his fate. A quiet gasp escaped him, and his cheeks darkened with delight.

“You’re not coming, are you?” Turgon snapped bitingly. Following his oldest brother’s darting eyes—the door to the bedrooms, the sprawling front window, back to the door—he instinctively divined his erratic thoughts. “I’ll pack your gear; get the necessities and go. I’ll tell the others when we meet at the foot of the mountain.”

Shooting a quick glance full of gratitude at his stolid, taciturn younger brother, Fingon all but jumped out of his elaborate suit and stumbled towards the door in a flimsy sweatshirt and his rattiest, thinnest sweatpants.

“Keys,” Turgon groaned, snatched them from the tangled mess in the beautiful ceramic bowl by the door, and tossed them over effortlessly. “Greet Maedhros from me.”

Stalking away with enviable dignity, he refused to add any other parting words.

“But look at the picture!” Fingon whispered and held his phone aloft, waving it slightly at Turgon’s retreating back. “Eh, your loss.”

The caption said something about Tyelko having spiked the punch, but that was of little importance to Fingon—he was too entranced by the photograph itself, showing his sweet redhead in an uncharacteristically deep blue sweater.

As he hurried towards his car, almost slipping thrice because he couldn’t pry his gaze off the wavering screen in his numb hand, Fingon grinned like a lunatic to mirror the wide, happy smile his sweetheart was sporting.

He loved all of his boyfriend’s smiles—the tiny quirks making the corners of his mouth dance as much as the polite, subdued curve his fine lips assumed at times—but the open-mouthed grin knocked the very breath out of his lungs with amazement so rare and marvellous did it seem to him.

Russo, he thought fondly, didn’t stomach liquor well, especially not if it was in a hot beverage, and the tell-tale flush as well as the brightness of his eyes told him all he needed to know.

Suddenly, the ever-gnawing yearning in the pit of his stomach became positively unbearable as he thought of the strong, seemingly endless arms of his partner, wrapped a little too tightly around his waist.

He wanted this; he longed to be there to run his fingers along the intricate pattern of exquisite knitwear in his own colours and watch Russo flush under the onslaught of messy, cinnamon-flavoured kisses and the soothing effect of mulled wine.

“Moryo made the sweater for me; isn’t it lovely?”

Fingon started the car, weighing the pros and cons of texting while driving and stopping almost instantly again.

“It’s beautiful. You’re gorgeous,” he typed quickly.

“I might be a little tipsy. I miss you. The twins said that I am to be the tree this year—father didn’t find one he liked. Everyone agrees that I am tall enough. Hence the decorations. Do you like them?”

Swiping his thumb blindly across the screen, Fingon pulled up the picture again.

He wasn’t sure whether it was acceptable to call while Maedhros was with his family, but he felt as if he would die in the white hell of swirling snow if he didn’t hear that warm, serious voice telling him that everything was all right.

His father, of course, had raised him better than this, but Fingon nevertheless fiddled with his phone until he heard the clangourous ringing sound cut through the unnerving static of the engine purring in the background.

“Hey,” Maedhros said. “Are you not on your way down a slope right now? Are you being safe? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“Slow down, Red,” Fingon laughed, the weight on his chest dissolving into a puff of warm air, and turned the heating on. “I am indeed not skiing. Does your invitation still stand?”

A pensive hum resounded, mellow and satisfied, and then a sharp inhalation.

“Where are you, Fin?”

“I am in my car. Does your invitation stand, Russo?”

“Yes,” the other laughed. “I would warn you not to come—my brothers are in high spirits which is always a dangerous thing—but the idea of having you here is too alluring…”

“Tell me about your gifts,” Fingon pleaded softly as he raced out of the resort at twice the recommended speed. “I love the sweater. Is that a new prosthesis I’ve glimpsed?”

Gurgling with laughter, his swain confirmed. “Yeah, Curvo made it. It’s very good, very comfortable.”

“Can’t wait to feel it on my—wait, I am not on speakerphone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Maedhros exclaimed indignantly—his voice was so powerful and loud that he had single-handedly eliminated any need for such an accommodation anyway, but just hearing him sound so light-hearted was worth any and every indignity to Fingon.

“Maglor gave me a mug saying ‘Tall Ass Bitch’, which is funny because I got him a tiny blanket that said ‘Short King’. Isn’t that hilarious? He also made it himself—Mother was ecstatic.”

It was, as a matter of fact, hysterical, and Fingon had to focus hard not to drive off the road because he was shaking with laughter. “It sounds as if you’re having a marvellous time,” he wheezed. “I am glad. Turno is mad at me—I got your pic and just took off. Haven’t even said goodbye to the rest of the family.”

“You are disgusting,” Caranthir hollered from somewhere in the background. “I am moving my stuff into the movie room—no way I’ll sleep in the same room as you two.”

“Awww Moryo, don’t be like that,” Maedhros harrumphed. “Have another glass of glogg!”

“When I see what it’s done to you, no thank you,” came the reprobative answer, and then, there was silence once more.

“Please stay as you are,” Fingon beseeched his lover. “I want to be the one to pluck those pretty glass ornaments from your silken hair. Also, my fingers are itching to peel you out of this very nice sweater—not your usual colour palette, though, is it?”

“Moryo can say what he wants,” Maedhros replied smugly, “but he did choose your colours for my sweater, so he can’t object all that much, can he? He gets better every year, you must feel that thing—you couldn’t buy that kind of quality in just any regular shop.” The warm pride ringing in every word warmed Fingon’s heart as he pushed relentlessly through the rocky, snow-covered panorama of his holiday destination to reach the milder climates of the region surrounding the cute cabin his love’s family rented every year.

“Will he rat us out?” he then asked, slightly nervous. He liked Nerdanel, and he had taken his fair share of silly pictures of himself and his siblings to satisfy her addiction to cute but embarrassing photographs, but he did not want to crash her cosy getaway with her beloved children.

“OH,” Maedhros giggled. “They all know already—I might have pumped my fist and danced across the living room, almost trampling one of the twins who was looking for something under the couch, no matter…so yeah, my parents know that you’re coming. It’s all good. Better than good. You know what? I am going to put aside a bit of the punch for us—for later.”

The quality of his timbre had taken on a sultry, seductive note now, and Fingon shivered despite the hot air blasting through his car. Why were they so far apart?

“You do that, my love,” he said when he realised that he had not given any answer to that suggestion, so enthralled was he by the idea of his Russo—warm, pliable, and utterly contented—sprawling on a narrow bed for which he was much too tall. “I’d follow you anywhere, you know that, right? Over the endless ice and across the raging ocean—I’ll always come for you!”

“I hope so,” came the soft, mumbled reply. “And I’ll always be waiting, ever scanning the horizon feverishly for the deliverance of your friendship and love. Are you still very far?”

“Yes,” Fingon muttered, frustrated with how long and tedious his road would be, but just as determined to make it into those desperately wished-for arms as fast as possible. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad weather conditions and adverse events delayed Fingon unduly but—just as the night grew pitch dark in the small, picturesque valley—he saw the majestic hill ahead. Nestled against its elegant slope stood a cottage—looking tiny from that distance—from which the brightly lit windows twinkled like golden stars.

“Soon, my darling,” Fingon hummed; he had not gotten an answer in at least twenty minutes, but the sound of his lover’s deep, regular breathing was nevertheless soothing and encouraging.

“Good evening, you must be tired. He…fell asleep. Do you want to go wake him, and I’ll make you a spot of dinner?” Nerdanel whispered as she opened the door, tutted at the glaring lack of sensible winterwear, and then pulled Fingon into a forceful, welcoming hug.

Nodding, Fingon kicked off his snow boots, and padded over to the couch on thick, woollen socks; he didn’t even mind the fact that several of Maedhros’s brothers were standing around, sniggering softly, as he bent over that curled-up form and breathed a tender kiss onto the chiselled jaw of his personal miracle.

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” he whispered, rubbing slow circles into the long, lean back of the peaceful sleeper. “Happy holidays, my love.”

When Maedhros blinked, dazed and confused, Fingon broke into a smile so deep and earnest, it made his eyes crinkle and his lips stretch taut over his flashing, slightly irregular teeth. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Finno, I am so sorry. You—You are already here? I dreamed of you; it was such a good dream,” Maedhros mumbled, rubbing his eyes and extending his hand to his mug automatically to chase the stale, sticky taste in his mouth.

“Your mother is making dinner,” Fingon explained as he shuffled onto the couch beside the jumble of shapely limbs and slid his hand into Maedhros’s warm palm.

“I am so happy that you’re here,” the still rather dopey ginger sighed, leaning his head—Christmas tree decoration and knots—against Fingon’s strong, muscular shoulder. “Now, it is perfect.”

“I am afraid,” Fingon confessed in a conspiratorial whisper, “that I have forgotten your gift in my suitcase. You’ll get it after the holidays! I swear!”

“Hmmm, you’re all I need.” Humming happily, Maedhros slung his arms around Fingon’s waist and so they sat, lulled by the whispered conversations of the ever-present gaggle of brothers and seduced into hunger by the aromatic fumes of a late-night dinner about to be served.

“Sweetling?” Fingon prompted suddenly as his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Could you please send my mother the picture of you? I am sure she’ll understand why I fled so haphazardly once she sees it.”

“I highly doubt that,” Maedhros chortled, “but I will, of course, try. We should spend a day or two with them before we go back home, how about that? I shall suffer the mockery of your siblings with equanimity.” “My brave, slightly drunk, very beautiful, utterly bewitching hero,” Fingon laughed, wrapped his arm around Maedhros’s slender shoulder, and promptly dozed off himself.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Russingon #Maedhros #Fingon #Maedhros x Fingon #Modern!AU #Card AU #with art #the-red-butterfly #Rituals #Traditions #fluff

[your-divine-ribs]

Red Part 5

Words: 2.6k

No warnings for this part but maybe Red Van should come with his own warning ❤️

I’m excited to bring back the Halloween party again, loved writing the next few chapters xxx

Red Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I don't know what I did to deserve you Y/N. Must have been something pretty special."

"Oh, I don't know about that..."

You're applying a slick of glossy pink to your lips, appraising your reflection in the mirror whilst your boyfriend watches on from his position stretched out on the bed. His words reach you, causing your gut to clench, an involuntary reaction to his praise. You force a smile, aware that he can see your reflection but you don't turn around. Not even when he rises up from the bed and comes to stand behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips and his chin hovering over your shoulder. You just carry on looking at your joint reflection, the caring, devoted boyfriend and the conniving, sneaky girlfriend, the image wracking you through with guilt, so much so that you can't stand it, twisting out of his embrace and stepping to the side, mumbling that you have lots of things to do before the party guests arrive.

Larry lets you go.

If he's noticed the change in your behaviour the past few weeks then he hasn't said anything, he just goes about his daily life the way he always handles things, with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips, the eternal optimist who never lets things get him down. But then, why would he fret that he has anything to worry about with regards to your relationship? As far as he's concerned you're as much in love as you have been all these years, and why should he think any different? Why should he suspect that his sweet, loving girlfriend and his loyal childhood best friend would be playing such a dangerous game? And you do still love him, you really do, but, as you're beginning to realise, your moral compass is severely impaired, the thoughts of a clandestine, sleazy hook up with Van consuming your every waking moment, the temptation too strong to turn away from. But you have to try...

The downstairs of the house is decorated just right. Creepy cobwebs and tacky Halloween props adorn every available surface, the lighting dim and subdued, provided by the eerie flicker of the fake candles that you've purchased. You look around, satisfied with your handiwork, untwisting a bottle of vodka and pouring a large measure into the cauldron themed punch-bowl.

The guests are due to start arriving in around ten minutes and you're all set so you take the opportunity to pour yourself a glass of wine, taking a large gulp and leaning back against the kitchen counter. Your reflection in the glass door of the microwave looks back at you, the sparkling halo that's nestled in the soft waves piled up on your head glittering in the dim light. You're an angel, dressed in virginal white although not entirely purely in a figure-hugging dress which compliments your figure, the bodice shaped perfectly to show off your enviable curves and the skirt long and flowing but cut daringly right up to the thigh.

It was weeks before that you'd put together your outfit and it was probably more fitting back then. Now the notion that you could be anything close to angelic just seems absurd. But you could be. You can put things right. You've not gone far enough that you can’t backtrack and turn this whole situation around, put an end to this treacherous flirtation with Van and ask him to stay far away from you. No... not ask him. Tell him to stay away. In no uncertain terms.

You wonder what he'll come dressed as tonight. He's kept pretty tight-lipped about his outfit, but knowing him he'll make minimal effort for the occasion.

"How long d'ya reckon that halo's gonna stay intact for tonight then, Y/N?"

The presence in the doorway wrenches you out of your thoughts and you whip your head up just in time to see Van entering the kitchen and your eyes widen and your jaw drops agape.

You've got to be fucking kidding me...

You're right about the minimal effort, but that's just the thing with Van. He doesn't have to try very hard and yet he still somehow manages to shine. He's dressed in his signature skinny black jeans and a deep burgundy shirt which is unbuttoned down to mid-chest, his gold pendant catching the light. You wouldn't know he was attending a Halloween soirée if it wasn't for the set of shiny red devil's horns perched on top of his head, but they compliment his wicked smile perfectly, a sinful sparkle in his eye as he lets his gaze rake slowly down over your body and back up, taking his time, leaving you in no doubt of his unholy intentions.

You try to maintain a neutral expression, raising an eyebrow like you're not at all impressed even though the mere sight of him is enough to set your pulse racing.

"Well look who it is... the devil himself."

Van doesn't get chance to answer before Bondy pushes past him into the kitchen. In typical Bondy fashion he's really gone to town, skin daubed a ghastly green, ridiculous wig on his head, he's even painted his fingernails for the occasion you notice as he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a bottle of beer.

"Alright guys and ghouls!" He grins, looking between you and Van and then back to you again, shooting you a cheeky wink. "Looking good Y/N. I must say that halo really suits you. I never had you pegged as the angelic type!"

"Thanks John," you smile back, ignoring Van who's nearly spat a mouthful of beer across the kitchen trying to hide a snigger as a cough. "So what have you come as then?"

"Johnny Ramone... on loan from the pet cemetery... for one night only!"

"You look great... really good. And it's so good to see that some people have made an effort anyway. Not like Van's shit attempt!"

You look past Bondy, giving Van a pointed look and he shrugs.

"Think I look pretty good actually," he counters which earns him a sarcastic huff from you.

"Not very original though is it? In fact it's actually pretty crap. Zero imagination!"

"And what makes you think I give a shit about what you think huh?"

His tone is cold now as he scowls at you from across the top of his beer bottle and a warm glow of satisfaction sparks in you. He's so used to getting his ego massaged that he can't stand criticism.

"For fucks sake you two, I thought Larry said you'd made up?"

You've almost forgotten that Bondy's there even though he's standing right next to you. You're too busy glaring at Van, holding his steely gaze, trying to turn as much of the self-loathing that you currently feel for desiring him into hatred. But try as you might, you just can't ignore the fact that as much as he infuriates you, you still want to launch yourself at him and tear at his clothes.

"It's not like I'm not trying mate, but you see what I have to put up with, it's bloody constant!" Van complains, like he's the innocent party in all of this and that just grates on you even more.

"Fucking dickhead," you mumble under your breath, watching Bondy backing away, shaking his head in puzzlement at where your sudden scathing attack has come from.

"I'm outta here guys..."

You decide that it's probably a good time to retreat yourself, satisfied that you've wound Van up enough, your pulse quickening as you see the flash of anger in his eyes.

"What was that?"

He advances on you so you whirl around quickly, turning for the doorway that Bondy's just walked through but you stumble on your heels, sending you lurching over to the side. As first you think he's reaching for you to steady you, but it soon becomes clear that he's not. He uses the momentum you've picked up to drive you back against the wall, hard, your back crashing against it with enough force to make you gasp.

"What did you fucking say?"

He's looming over you now, eyes blazing whilst he stares you down, but you don't feel intimidated. Not in the slightest. You just feel hugely fucking turned on. It doesn't matter that you're in the kitchen of the house he shares with your boyfriend which is rapidly filling with party guests who could walk in at any moment. You just want to push him even further. You want to see what happens when you push him to breaking point. Tempt him to pin you up against the wall in anger and take his frustrations out on you whilst he rails you into oblivion.

"You heard me. I said... you're a… fucking… dickhead."

You draw out your words, finishing your statement with a smirk, intended to provoke and it works. Van's lips curl into a smile too, but there's no warmth in it, just anger with a large dose of smugness at his perceived upper hand. He quickly raises a hand to catch your chin just under the jaw, pressing your head back against the wall. The sexual tension radiating off him is almost palpable and you can feel it too, a steady throb pulsing between your thighs as he brings his face close to yours.

"You'd better watch that dirty mouth of yours angel, or it's gonna get you into trouble."

Fuck... you want so badly to grasp at his hips and push your body up against his. You can hear voices in the hallway, the sound of greetings being exchanged as guests start to arrive. You need to stop this now, but you just can't help yourself.

"Oh, really? What you gonna do huh? If you want me to shut up you're gonna have to make me!"

"Oh I fucking will..."

"Van mate! Where are ya? Sophie's just turned up!"

Larry's voice rings out and you realise that he's close, he's literally on the other side of the door, and you suck in a breath as Van releases you in a flash, stepping away and shooting you a warning glare before he reaches for the door handle, his angry demeanour instantly dissipating as if it was never there at all.

And then your ardour is cooled in the blink of an eye as Van draws open the door to reveal Sophie standing there looking pristine and perfect, her glossy brunette mane cascading from under a wide brimmed witches hat, her soft curves accentuated perfectly by the slinky black dress that she's barely wearing. Van's eyes nearly pop out of his head and you feel a sharp stab of jealously piercing your heart in a way which is totally unexpected. It leaves you stunned for a moment as you watch her reaching for him and pulling him into a hug, leaning back a moment later to reveal a cherry-red puckered lip-print on his cheek.

"Oops I've got lippy all over you!" She giggles, raising a hand up to wipe it off but Van catches her wrist to stop her, beaming at her in a way which just twists the dagger in your heart.

"Nah, leave it love, I reckon it just adds to my outfit." Then he turns to you, brazenly smug smile turned up to full wattage. "What d'ya reckon Y/N? Is it an improvement?" Then back to Sophie. "She said I looked shit!"

You bite back a savage remark and force your lips into a sweet smile with just a hint of bitterness that only Van will notice, practically gritting your teeth as you notice Sophie's arm curl around Van's waist as she nestles into his side.

"Really?" Her eyes are wide with disbelief as she looks between you and Van, her eyes lingering appreciatively on him. "Well I think you look great... as always. You always look gorgeous!"

You reach for your wine glass, swallowing the contents down with yet another snide remark which is desperate to burst forth, letting out a dramatic sigh instead. "Gods sake, don't inflate his ego, he won't be able to fit through the door at this rate!"

Sophie laughs loudly. "Well he might look good, but look at you! I absolutely love your dress! You look amazing... doesn't she Van?"

Van opens his mouth to speak but Sophie doesn't give him chance, she's gushing in a way which makes you think she's probably already indulged in a few drinks before the party's even started.

"In fact I need to get a photo... of the two of you. The angel and the devil. It's perfect! Come on... come on guys!"

She unwraps her arm from around Van as she speaks, pushing him towards you, waving her phone around in her other hand, conducting you both into place. You just stand there, furtively glancing at Van, cringing inside as Sophie babbles on excitedly about how good you both look together and how she wishes she'd chosen a similar outfit to yours.

She snaps a few shots of you both standing stiffly, shoulder to shoulder, glancing at her phone screen with a little frown on her face, before she's holding it up again. "Come on, it's a party! At least look like you're having fun! Come on, get a bit closer!" She waves a hand to demonstrate. "Put your arm around her Van. Smile Y/N!"

She's drunk... definitely drunk. In fact she seems plastered. She wobbles slightly in her heels, giggling again.

"Don't look so worried Y/N. He's got gonna corrupt a sweet little angel like you!"

You force out a giggle of your own at her comment, cringing as you feel Van's arm snake around your waist, fingers splayed wide as he holds you firmly, pulling you to him in a tight embrace.

"Ah shit!"

Sophie's squeal is loud and piercing as her phone slips from her fingers, clattering on to the kitchen tiles. You watch, amused, as she lurches forward to grab for it, miscalculating and managing to kick it even further across the floor with the toe of her stiletto.

"Oops!"

"Christ! How many you had?" Van exclaims.

He doesn't make a move to help her though, sighing deeply instead, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. You suppose you should really assist her, stumbling drunk as she is, but you don't. Instead you feel a wicked sense of glee at Van's obvious disapproval, enjoying the fact that his arm's still locked around you whilst his date is left helplessly floundering.

"Are ya pissed already love?"

Larry's entered the kitchen now with an empty beer bottle in hand, searching for a refill. More chivalrous than Van, he instantly stoops down to help Sophie retrieve her phone, their heads clashing as they both move forward in unison. Laughter erupts from both of them as they stagger backwards, completely distracted now from you and Van.

And you should be moving away, you really should. You've spent far too long lingering in the kitchen, stoking the fires of this dangerous attraction when you should be avoiding Van altogether. But there's something that excites you about the way he's holding you firmly, his fingers gently kneading at your hip. It's a subtle gesture but it's sending flurries of exhilaration through you. Maybe it's the fact that Sophie and Larry are right in front of you and completely oblivious, caught up in laughing at their silly mishap. Unmindful of the fact that Van's tilted his head to the side to whisper softly into your ear, his breath ticking your skin in a way that makes you shiver.

"Tonight Y/N. I gotta have you."

#red #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic

[flyingtomyneverland]

lips like lemon cake - sharing a dessert with your lover and... tasting it from their lips -

--> summary: gn!reader x diluc. sharing a dessert with diluc ragnvindr, scenario, romantic fluff, kisses

--> reader and character are in an established relationship

word count: 4533

tw: none

it's those evenings you wish to hold so dearly in your heart, that it almost hurts to think that one day even this memory shall be forgotten.

it's those evenings that are utterly and whimsically unique. in an indescribably exciting way, heart leaping and stomach dancing - that can only be shared between two lovers.

it's those evenings, with diluc ragnvindr.

‎

on one of those evenings, you settled on a wooden bench near the dawn winery, far enough so that no one may disturb you. if it weren't for the sparse, yellow-gold light of the small lanterns, the shadows would hide both your faces in the darkness. but on this evening, which soon turned into this night, he is - the warm curl of his lips, the way his fiery red locks fall over his shoulder, the expression of his eyes as they wander over the night - all for you, only for you.

you hold a delicate porcelain plate - all for you - a piece of lemon cake, which you had prepared thinking of diluc.

‎

" try it. ", you whisper softly after a while of pleasant silence, directing his gaze from the vineyard back to you. and there it is- the little flame in his eyes, which lets your heart flutter like the little crystal fly's wings above you.

" after you. ", he leans towards you, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the plate, but you have already taken the fork in your hand, holding it in front of his lips.

" i made it thinking of you. ", you confess and move closer to him. " please have the first bite. "

how could he possibly resist this heartwarming request and the sweet sight of you under the starry sky?

his soft, enviably rosy lips enclose the piece and you cant help but notice the little bit of whipped cream that sticks to his bottom lip. his lips curve upwards and you are rewarded with a warm smile.

" you made that for me? "

nervously, you watch his reaction. fingers shaking slightly. " is it... to your liking? ", you ask cautiously. diluc reaches for your hand, his wrapping around yours, holding you tightly.

diluc's breath gently escapes his mouth- akin to a soft sigh. " y/n.", warm fingers brush over yours as he takes the fork from your hand, leaving behind tingling shivers. he leans in further, your noses touch and you feel your heart skip at the loving touch.

your breath catches as he meets your lingering gaze. even after all the time, you are still not used to the way he manages to take your breath away. you nod slowly. " i wasn't certain if sour things suited your taste - so i just... well, if you don't- i don't mind, you can tell me. "

" it is exquisite. "

your heart warms at that.

" truly? it's not too..."

"... it's perfect.", his words are quietly spoken- the way his mouth smoothly moves is almost hypnotic - before his other hand rests on the back of your head. the feeling of his teasing fingers trailing down your neck surprises you, your eyes widen as diluc pulls you closer, sweet breath fawning over your lips.

" how about i give you a taste? ", he speaks, almost absently. your heart races as his gaze falls on your lips and- is that a winning smile gracing his handsome features? had he planned this all along?

" i would like that.", you say, warmth filling you up to your fingertips.

as diluc pulls away, he leaves you behind with flushed cheeks and the urge to run your tongue over your lip.

a small, deep chuckle. there's not enough time for you to process how ridiculously beautiful the sound of his rich voice is. his lips press against yours and your heart leaps like a young bird. at first, it is as if pure warmth envelops you all around and all you smell is him. him, the comforting, secure scent of fresh grapes and old leather. and then, as his hand relaxes and spreads on the back of your neck, he was commanding your lips to open and you willingly let him as he skimmed his tongue over the inner part of your lip and you feel like you might faint as slowly but unmistakably, the sweet sour taste of lemon and sugar creeps in.

" well - have i convince you of this magnificent flavor? ", you look at him and suddenly you have to giggle, hands on his chest.

" i wouldn't mind if your lips always tasted like lemon cake."

he joins in your laughter.

" mhm, i see. i suggest then we try that again, my dear? "

#genshin x reader #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin scenarios #diluc scenarios #diluc #genshin impact scenarios #diluc fluff

[motownfiction]

as good as you'll get

Sadie feels insecure when she looks in the mirror, too.

She almost feels like she can’t talk about it. No, she definitely feels like she can’t talk about it. Lucy spends so much vulnerable time talking about all the things she doesn’t like about her body (not tall enough for massive boobs, not born to be willowy, teeth that stick out just a tad too far in her mouth). Sadie never gets to say any of the same things.

Because none of the same things apply. Sadie is five-foot-ten, tall enough to be a model in some circles. Lucy thinks that makes her beautiful, enviable, all these pretty words that Sadie wishes she was worthy of. It’s nice, sometimes, to be five-foot-ten. But it also means she’s taller than Daniel – noticeably taller than Daniel – and she’s never been sure of what to do with that.

And she is willowy. She was born that way. Naturally thin and spindly, a little like a flower, or so she tells herself when she wants to feel pretty. But it doesn’t matter. Because she’ll never have the curves that Lucy has, the look of a Marilyn, the thing that makes timeless pin-ups what they are. She’ll just be a ruler, blowing in the wind, not even in a cool, folksy, Dylan way.

Her teeth are straight, too. She never had braces. Just born with a perfect bite. All the Doyle kids were. They get it from their mother, who has never believed she’s anything but beautiful. Not a day in her life. But boys always compliment Lucy on her smile when she’s brave enough to really share it. They like her overbite. It makes her surprisingly cute for a bitch. At least, that’s what Nick Crosby said once, when Sadie wasn’t supposed to hear. Never mind that he was Sadie’s first kiss two years ago. Never mind that at all.

It doesn’t matter if Sadie’s looks are enviable to Lucy. It doesn’t matter if people call her beautiful, too. Sadie is sixteen years old, and when she sees herself, she sees nothing but a mistake. If only she’d inherited her mother’s unearned confidence. Then maybe she wouldn’t spend all morning in front of a mirror, picking herself apart like a bad poem.

This morning, she shakes her head at herself. She has a few hairs on top of her head that simply will not lay flat. Mom calls them baby hairs. Sadie thinks she’d rather die than have baby hairs at the age of sixteen. Is that who she is? Is she a baby forever? She sighs. She doesn’t have time for all these questions.

“This is as good as you’ll get,” she whispers to herself.

It’s the cry of a million girls all at once, usually so low and so sinister that only they can hear it … and only when they’re alone.

Sadie knows that. But for now – just now – this one is about her.

(part of @nosebleedclub poetry month challenge -- day 1! i know i'm once again starting off behind, but i hope to keep up kind of well again)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: sadie doyle #year: 1983

[sarifinasnightmare]

The Vengeful Bride

Pairing: Sarah x Bucky

Rating: Teen and Up (I think). The pirates aren't nice and neither are the mermaids actually. Mentions of violence, gore and sexual harassment. Bad ass Sarah Wilson. 💪🏾

Summary: On an island somewhere in the Caribbean, there is a story about a town that nearly got destroyed by a greedy mayor and some pirates and were saved by the vengeful ghost of a bride who had drowned on her wedding day.

Prompt: Pirates/Mermaid AU

___________

On an island somewhere in the Caribbean, there is a story about a town that nearly got destroyed by a greedy mayor and some pirates and were saved by the vengeful ghost of a bride who had drowned on her wedding day.

The Widow Sarah Wilson had always been a strong, beautiful wild creature. Her parents had three children, two sons who prospered elsewhere and their daughter. When she was a child, she’d run barefoot all over the town and spend hours splashing and swimming in the sea. Other mothers would’ve considered her unmanageable, but she was also an intelligent girl who could perform the maidenly duties required of her very well, she just didn’t care for them. Her embroidery skills were flawless, her fingers flew cleanly over the piano playing dulcet music, she danced like a flower in the wind and her penmanship was enviable. However, she would much rather be at sea, on the family boat, reading books, caring for the wildlife and basking in the waves.

When she reached her majority, it seemed like no one was good enough for her. Amongst the swath of rosy maidens looking to find husbands, she was the bird of paradise who lured them without even trying. It seemed no one would tame her, but to everyone’s surprise she married! Her mother made the match to Mr. Ashley Wilson, a man who was nearly twice her age, recently widowed, very rich and looking for a fresh young bride. Many thought Sarah would put up a fight, but she obediently acquiesced to her mother’s desires and married the older man. She had been a resplendent bride and Mr. Wilson was said to have been gleeful at the fact that he got himself the untamable Sarah for a wife.

They were pleasantly married for a few years until the day came that Mr. Wilson was stricken with a stroke and became a bed-ridden invalid. Now the wild, beautiful Sarah became her husband’s nursemaid and the whole town clicked their tongues in sympathy. What a waste of beauty! Then after struggling for a year more, Mr. Wilson died, leaving his wife a young widow. What a shame! Now she lived alone in the huge house by the sea with all the wealth her old husband had left behind. She moved her now ailing mother into the house so she could see to her needs like a good diligent daughter. Poor Sarah, people murmured, so wealthy but bound to her ill relations.

What the people didn’t know was that for as long as Sarah had the sea, she had never once been alone nor neglected.

Her father had been from a world of water, filled with people called by many names: the Aycayia, the Maneli, Njuzu, or Sirenas; mermaids in simple English. He fell in love with her mother and sacrificed his home to be with her. Their children had a rare choice when they reached their majority, to become a part of the merfolk or to stay human. Her elder brother chose humans, her second took to the sea. Sarah herself loved the sea as well, because it was the sea that held her greatest love.

As a child she encountered a merboy called Bucky who had first been her dearest friend and playmate. He taught her to swim, to turn her legs into a sleek tail, to hold her breath, and they explored many of the inaccessible places around the island. Later as they grew, they became sweethearts, exchanging words of unending affection. He’d become a tall, broad shouldered, handsome warrior, with long dark hair and blazing blue eyes. She ripened into curves, balanced by fierce brown eyes and generous lips that had become irresistible to him. He wanted her to join him in the waters and she was more than willing. However, she was her mother’s only girl and she loved her deeply. So much so that she begged her daughter to stay with her at least until she died. After having lost his father, Sarah found she couldn’t find it in her to abandon her mother and despite her desire to be in the sea with Bucky she decided to be a dutiful daughter first.

Her mother never liked Bucky, thinking him wild and dangerous, so it was rather mean-spirited of her to make Sarah marry another man. She had hoped that by providing her daughter with every earthly comfort that she would be satisfied, but the old woman underestimated how passionately they loved each other.

In a secret cavern she quietly told him what would occur, and he of course did not take it well.

Bucky had been furious. “Your mother is a menace! Why would you agree to this!! I will kill that old fool before I let him have an inch of you!”

“Bucky-” She tried to explain.

“You think I would sit and allow myself to be set aside??”

“No! I will not leave you!” She protested.

“You are!!” He snapped, his eyes growing watery. “How would you feel if I set you aside?”

Sarah knew that abandonment meant death to a merfolk, because once love was given it could not be returned, so he could waste away, starved of her love. “Please Bucky don’t leave me! I take no pleasure in this but what can I do? Leave my mother to her misery? She lost her love too and clings to ways to keep me close.”

“She means to kill us.” He growled as jealousy seized him and he began to ravish her with kisses and love bites. Sarah clutched him, urging him on, wanting only the pleasure he could give her.

“I won’t let us part,” She panted, moaning as he tongued her breasts. “I will keep us together.”

Together they came up with a plan that while not perfect would be enough to satisfy their needs.

On her wedding night, a wild, beautiful Sarah Wilson waited with bated breath as Bucky, on two human feet, nude and wet with the salt of the sea on his skin, slipped into her new house, entered her room and deflowered his darling love. It was everything they had imagined it would be. She did away with her robe and threw herself naked into his arms. He carried her to the bed and let the netting wrap around them as they made love for the first time. They had played and touched before, but their first joining was infinitely sweeter than that.  While the servants thought that the grunts and moans were of the newly wed couple, it was Bucky between her thighs, muscles flexing, tightening as he thrust between her silky thighs. Sarah writhed and arched against him, swimming in ecstasy and clutching him tight as the pleasure waves of their orgasm drowned them both.

Where was her husband in all this? Drugged and deep in the throes of a hallucinogenic sleep that brought him sweet dreams of his new wife. That was how it went for years. Encouraged by his wife to have a drink before laying with her, he never knew that all those times he dreamt his encounters with her when in reality it was another man, a creature from the sea, that lay with his wife and pleasured her throughout the night. When he had his stroke, it made their life much easier. She no longer had to drug him to be with Bucky and when he died it was all the better. Her mother suspected something amiss but dared not voice it, least it fell into the wrong ears. The servants were perplexed by the odd wet spots that appeared occasionally around the house. One overly curious man tried to find the source of the spots and was discovered dead at the foot of the stairs, his neck broken and a look of utter shock on his pale face.

Bucky would allow no one to come between him and his love.

Now Sarah was a widow and a wealthy one at that. Free once more she resumed doing the things she loved, and no one gave it any thought. After all she was a rich, respectable widow dutifully caring for her mother; it was admirable.

“I tire of this half-life, Sarah.” Bucky said to her one night as they lay in her bed. “I want you home.”

Sarah caressed the long, wet hair from his face. “I want to, Bucky, you know I do, but I promised my mother to wait until she passed.”

“So it’s her death I require.” He growled, a hint of sharp teeth catching in the candlelight.

“Please don’t!”

He calmed himself. “I won’t, but I just love you so much and this waiting hurts me. To be so far from you is torture.”

She understood. Merfolk suffered when parted from their loved ones and she felt the painful ache just being half. The ache in her lover must have felt worse. “I do not wish for my mother’s death, but she is becoming frailer. It won’t be long.”

They held each other close during the night until dawn came, and Bucky reluctantly slipped away back to the sea. Sarah watched him go, conflicted by the burdens in her heart.

______________________-----

It happened that the governor of their town passed away and the homeland sent a new mayor to watch over them. Upon the arrival of Mayor Forks, the people knew they were in for some trouble. He was large, fat with grasping fingers and a wandering stare. The way his eyes trailed over everything of value and every pretty face instantly made the citizens wary.

Tax money immediately started to go missing, causing Forks to raise them to meet the quota. Unsavory looking men were permitted to enter the town and the mayor’s palace suddenly acquired some ugly guards. People grumbled and began to lament. The mayor had always been the guest of honor at the first dance of the season, and it was with gritted teeth that the young ladies were forced to dance with him, his hands pawing around.

Sarah had heard about this mayor but had studiously avoided him. She usually stood amongst the married and widowed ladies commenting on the matches although she was still young. The mayor took one look at her and was instantly arrested. A rich, beautiful widow! How could he pass her up?

Much to Sarah’s horror and disgust, Mayor Forks began to pursue her, and she absolutely refused him. It was the talk of the town. The mayor would send letters, flowers and gifts to her house and she’d send every item back. Twice he’d tried to enter her house only to be told her was either not at home (she was) or indisposed (she wasn’t). The one time he got close to her during a tea party, he slipped his hand onto her thigh, and she “accidentally” spilled hot tea on his hand. Using her ruined dress as an excuse to leave early she complained heatedly to her mother about it.

“We should leave this place before he does something worse to get you alone with him.” Her mother suggested.

“Mother, you wouldn’t be able to make such a journey. Plus, everything I need is here. I shan’t leave just because of him!”

“That’s because you won’t leave…because of him.”

Sarah gave her a hooded glare. “I love Bucky. I gave into your wishes to marry, and I obeyed, mother, but he is the only one I will ever allow to truly have me.”

“Have you told him about this mayor?”

“Indeed. It has become a sore subject.”

Bucky barely tolerated her first husband and was furious at the realization that now there was another suitor. Sarah was more than fine with him killing the fat pig, but it proved to be more difficult than assumed.

“Those men he has around his house are always patrolling and they’re not just anyone, they’re pirates.”

Pirates and merfolk shared the oceans but that did not make them allies. Thieves, rapists, opportunists, they would gladly take advantage of any mermaid or merman they found. Therefore, it was in a merfolk’s best interest to kill them. Seasoned pirates scoffed at the fantasy of beautiful, playful mermaids; they knew the truth, some had the scars to prove it.

Bucky was a warrior and was not shy about spilling blood but doing it alone amongst a band of unscrupulous pirates was risky. He urged caution and she agreed, sensing that eventually her rejections would cause Mayor Forks to do something more diabolical.

Then, on a beautiful festival day, the mayor revealed his grand gesture. During his speech he publicly proposed to Sarah thinking that having an audience would finally force her to agree, but she sneered at him and openly refused in front of the whole town. At that point the mayor’s thin veneer of civility fell and his true monstrosity emerged.

Slowly more unsavory pirates were permitted into the town, they menaced the people but were momentarily held back and the people were scared at what would happen next. Finally at a dinner party Mayor Forks made his announcement.

“I want you all to spread the word. I want to make sure everyone knows.” He began. “That I will not be humiliated by a woman in such a way. Since she cannot acquiesce kindly then force shall be necessary. If the Widow Sarah Wilson does not marry me within a fortnight, then my companions will gather all the ladies of the town, rich or poor and I shall let them have a grand time with them as they see fit. If any survive the event, they can return to their families. Do not attempt to leave as I have the ports well watched. Instead, may I suggest the good people focus on getting the good widow to prepare for her wedding day and resign herself to be my obedient little wife.”

The horror swept throughout the entire town. Cries and wailings echoed everywhere. Instantly the town turned on Sarah, demanding that she submit herself to the mayor. Then sensing she might try to flee he took it one step further. Upon his orders the pirates attacked, grabbing the girls and taking them into the local prisons. Screams and prayers could be heard as the mayor decided to hold the girls ransom to ensure that Sarah would appear. She was stunned by the outcry and for the first time felt a finger of fear up her spine.

Bucky had enough. “Come with me now. He’s given you no option but the sea.”

“And leave all these maidens to be made whores of?? I cannot be so heartless!” She argued.

“The town is against you!”

“The town is afraid! You cannot blame them for trying to save their daughters!”

“So you will do this? You’ll give yourself to that pig??” he asked, almost trembling with rage.

“I must and yet I cannot endure it. I must kill him and his pirates.” She declared coldly.

Bucky was surprised. Sarah had always been gentle despite her fieriness so to hear her speak of bloodshed was new.

“Do you plan to drug him?” He asked tentatively.

“No, he requires something much crueler.” She replied.

_______________________----

The mayor arranged the whole event, spending lavishly as he soon expected to have all of Sarah’s wealth in his coffers by the end of the night. The whole town showed up to this wedding, though there was no joy amongst anyone except the mayor, who looked at his intended bride garishly dressed in a gown he ordered her to wear with lewd anticipation. Sarah barely gave her consent and refused to offer her lips for a kiss and frowned at the sloppy feel of his mouth against her cheek. He tried to paw at her on the carriage ride to their reception. She slapped him and he slapped her back. Enraged, she struck him hard across the face with the back of her hand and he sat back stunned by the violence and strength. She hissed at him, and he swore he saw sharp teeth, but before he could question her they reached the governor’s palace and she nearly leapt out of the carriage to avoid him.

The festivities were hardly that. People didn’t want to dance to the music and hardly anyone ate; their minds preoccupied with their daughters and ashamed to look at the unfortunate bride in the eye. A few even apologized but Sarah paid them no mind, focused on what she’d have to do to survive the night with her grotesque new husband.

Getting drunk and feeling good, Forks decided to find his wife for a dance. Sarah refused him, but he grabbed her waist and forced her against him.

“You’re mine now. You do what I say like a good little wife.”

“You are mistaken if you think I’ll be so submissive to a pig like you.” She snapped.

The man chuckled drunkenly. “You forgot that everything that was once yours is now mine.” He hiccupped and she could smell the alcohol in his breath. “In fact, I already sent my men to your house to empty it of all your fine things. I plan to make a profitable sale of the property afterward.”

“How dare you! My mother will be scared to death!” she said, gritting her teeth as he grabbed her buttock.

“No, your mother will be dead. I have no patience for a dying old hag, so I told my men to deal with her quietly.”

“NO!” she cried, and all her careful planning came to a grinding halt as she picked up a dinner knife and stabbed him in the chest in front of all their guests. He cried out in agony, and everyone gasped, but Sarah didn’t care as she picked up her skirts and ran out of the palace to go save her mother.

Spotting a carriage, she pushed away the driver before climbing onto the seat and urged the pair of horses to gallop through the night streets.

Meanwhile, her mother was gasping for breath as she tried to flee her assailants. The horrible men had broken into the house, killed the butler and started ransacking the place. The servants fled, screaming, leaving the old woman to fend for herself. Terrified, the lady stumbled down the stairs, hurting her ankles, but she could not stop. Desperately she tried to escape to the beach only for two men to give chase, hooting and laughing as she stumbled and fell on the uneven sand. They grabbed her, dragging her into the cold water and started to dunk her in, enjoying her cries of distress.

A sudden unnatural swish of the water distracted them momentarily, then a manlike creature jumped out of the waves, grabbed one of the pirates and pulled him effortlessly into the sea. Terrified the other man released the old woman, who gasped and stumbled, and pulled out a knife, staring wildly into the dark waters. Kelp suddenly flew at him, wrapping around his neck, yanking him into the waves. There was a momentary struggle before his head, and only his head, bobbed up to the surface.

Sarah made it to the house, saw the disaster, but the moonlight reflected the pale gown her mother was dressed in, laying in the sand in the distance and she ran down to her side.

“Mama! Mama!” She cried in despair as she reached the beach and turned her mother over to check on her.

The old woman sighed weakly, wet, sticky with sand but very much alive. “My baby.”

“Mama! Oh God I was so scared!” She wept even as she smiled in relief.

“What happened to the mayor?”

“I stuck a knife in him. Hopefully he’s bleeding out like-”

A hand reached out, grabbing the back of Sarah’s neck and began to strangle her. It was Mayor Forks, bleeding but still very much alive.

“You bitch!! You thought you could get rid of me! I’m your husband! I’ll teach you how to behave! I’ll make an example of you!”

Her mother tried to rise and get him off her daughter, but he kicked her aside and dragged Sarah into the waves, still strangling her.

Sarah hissed and fought, but the weight of the now wet dress was heavy and from the angle she was at she could not fight him as he forced her head into the waters.

“I’ll teach you! You stupid bitch!” He shouted as he tried to drown her. Unexpectedly there was a yank as if something was pulling on his bride. Startled, the mayor loosened his hold on her, which was a mistake because the moment he did, she was abruptly taken from him and dragged further into the sea.

Frantically he tried to seek her, hoping to catch onto the heavy skirts. “No! No! You don’t get to slip that easy from me! You’re mine! MINE!” Eventually he felt the fabric and pulled it up with all his might, only to find it empty of its owner.

Forks was mystified, then heard a splash. Looking up he saw a pale-skinned, nude, dark haired man glaring at him with deadly intentions. Before he could make demands, Sarah rose beside the man in her shift that clung like thin tissue over her beautiful body, and she too looked at him cruelly.

“Get back here. I’m not done with you.” The fat man snarled.

“I’m not done with you either.” She hissed, revealing sharp teeth. “My plan was to see you dead tonight and I intend for that to happen.”

“You…I will have every woman violated if you touch me!” He threatened, a surge of fear rearing his head when he realized that the pair were approaching him menacingly, and he had no real way to protect himself.

“The only one who’s going to be violated is you little pig.” Bucky growled, large hands revealing long claws. “You’ve fattened yourself plenty. Time to carve you up.”

The man now looked over at his bride and saw as hint of sharp teeth he thought he’d glimpsed earlier were now on full display. “Still want that kiss?”

He turned and ran and promptly lost his footing in the waves. Sharp hands grabbed his ankles, pulling him into the sea, dragging him to and fro until he was crying for mercy. He managed to scramble to the beach, his clothes in tatters, but they shot out of the water, like an orca catching prey. Pulled close, he was turned onto his back, giving him only a glimpse of the sleek, dark, tails and fins before they ripped him open. He screamed and screamed until he died with a pathetic whimper.

Sarah wanted his body to be found on the beach, so they left him there to rot. Glancing up she then observed the jail where the girls were being held. “I need to go save them. Once these pirates realize that he is dead they will run wild and do as they please.”

“You are free, and your mother is safe. You’ve risked enough for these people.” Bucky protested.

“I love you, Bucky, but you either help me or stay out of my way.” She replied before diving into the water.

He growled before dutifully following his beloved mate.

___________________------

The tension in the prison was high. Word had spread that the bride had stabbed the groom and now no one could find either of them. The girls didn’t know what that meant, but the loud arguments going on did not put them at ease.

“What do we do?”

“Are we still getting paid??”

“Fuck it all! I’ve been itching for that one all day!” A particularly ugly pirate approached the cells, causing the girls to huddle themselves in one corner.

“Ain’t no one saving you now little girls! Time to pay up!”

They cried and whimpered in fear.

A harsh breeze suddenly ran through the corridors of the jail, blowing the flames out, leaving them all in darkness with only the pale moonlight. A soft, dulcet voice echoed through the halls and the pirates began to unsheathe their swords.

“We need to get out of here, now!” And older pirate ordered.

“The fuck?? Why? What’s going on??”

A noise echoed down a darkened hall, sending several of the girls scrambling to the other side of their cells to avoid whatever was coming.

“Out! Out now!” The old man’s throat suddenly opened up as a dark-skinned, clawed hand dug through it and yanked the man violently against the wall, smashing his face on the stone. The younger man fumbled his pistol and tried to aim it, but a pale creature attacked him from the side and ripped him open.

The girls huddled, frightened as the sound of screams and muscles being ripped apart echoed throughout the prison. Those who were brave enough to look were shocked to see the nearly naked form of the Widow Sarah, killing the pirates in horrendous fashion. She looked nothing like the dignified widow, but like a demoness, her hair long and free, her white shift blood stained and her eyes burned with rage.

Bucky took a cutlass and used it to kill any pirates outside the prison, showing no mercy. Merfolk were fine fighters in and out of water, but there was a limit and Bucky knew that he could not remain exposed for too long. In the distance he heard more shouting and peered over a ledge to see it was the town’s people rushing with muskets, pitchforks and torches coming to save their daughters. Quickly he ran back into the building to get Sarah.

“They’ve come for their daughters!” he announced, ignoring the corpses. “We have to leave.”

Sarah agreed, then glanced at one girl still brave enough to look. “See to my mother.”

The lovers turned and fled. Running, they reached the edge of a small cliff and dived into the cool, dark waters. As soon as they reached a certain distance, Sarah gladly removed her shift and allowed her body to make its change, turning limbs into a sleek tail and fin that resembled a dolphin. Bucky smiled, pleased to finally have his beloved all to himself and gathered her in his arms for a kiss.

Home, he urged her, blue eyes blazing with love.

Home, she agreed, smiling back and allowed him to pull her into the comforting darkness of the sea and towards the place she had longed for.

__________________----

The girls told a wild tale about Sarah coming to save them, of ripping pirates to pieces before disappearing like smoke. Men went to the widow’s house and found chaos and Sarah’s poor mother shivering quietly on the stoop. She spoke of her daughter being strangled by Mayor Forks which sent them all to the beach where they found the remains of the political pig being feasted on by the seagulls and wild dogs. Her wedding dress was found clumped against some rocks and they made the tragic conclusion that they had probably killed each other, and her unfortunate corpse was dragged into the sea. How then did it explain what the girls saw? Clearly, they were overwrought and delusional, but that didn’t explain the dozens of dead pirates. The one girl who had been brave enough to look declared that Sarah must’ve returned as a vengeful spirit to save them and they owed her a debt of gratitude. Shocked and a little frightened, the citizens agreed and mobilized.

Quickly they took their daughters home and began to cleanse their town of the mayor and his evil. The elites, not nearly so willing to believe in the supernatural but also not willing to tempt fate, did their part. Craftily they spread the rumor of a pirate attack that killed their mayor and several others including the wealthy widow. Fortunately, her mother lived, and they made sure that her house was restored, that she was safe and even summoned her son to come fetch her.

The old woman was grateful for their kindness but wasn’t a fool. She knew what had become of her daughter and what had transpired. Bittersweetly, she walked the shore of the beach, staring out into the sea knowing that her daughter was now living happily below the cold depths with her true love. Although she did not keep her promise to her mother, it didn’t hurt so much. She was a mother, she understood and in the end all she wanted was her children’s happiness. Her eldest son would be arriving soon to take her with him to his home, so at least she wouldn’t be alone and when the Lord finally took her, she would rest at ease, knowing that all was well with her kin.

The house and all the goods inside were sold and soon the old woman boarded a ship that belonged to her son, who saw to her comfort. Looking back as her island home grew smaller, she and her oldest son noticed something or someone bobbing around in the middle of the sea. It was Sarah. She waved at them and blew her mother a kiss. They waved back and she blew a kiss back, stifling tears.

Sarah watched as the ship disappeared over the horizon. Bucky popped up beside her, glanced at the ship, then kissed her naked shoulder. “We need to go, my love.”

“I know. I just wanted to say good-bye one last time.” she replied, her eyes watery.

“You don’t regret us…do you?” He asked worriedly.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “Never. I regret nothing. I love you, Bucky and there’s no place I’d rather be.”

He smiled triumphantly before kissing his true love and sank them under the cool, blue depths where they could revel in their passion more freely.

The story of the vengeful bride was told amongst the daughters who passed it to their children who then carried it along to their own. A few claimed that on the anniversary of her death one could see her wandering the beach in her wedding gown singing a sad song. Few were brave to see if it was true, the rich preferred to ignore it, but the commoners often left trinkets and food in thanks for her help. Some called her an angel, others a devil, but no one considered her a mermaid which was just fine with the merfolk who didn’t care for human attention. As for Sarah, she didn’t care of what was said, she was safe and loved, wrapped in the arms of her beloved Bucky and that was all that mattered.

The End

#fleurdelouve month #fleurdelouve #sarahbucky #sarah/bucky #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #fleur de louve #bucky barnes fatws #bucky barnes fandom #sam wilson tfatws #sarah wilson tfatws #sam wilson fatws #sarah wilson fatws #captain america #capt america #the winter soldier #bucky x sarah #sarah x bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x sarah wilson #sarah wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes ship #mcu ships #marvel ships #tfatws fic #marvel events #marvel blog #mcu blog #sebastian stan #adepero oduye

[kinkykeaton]

Buster Keaton, born Joseph Frank Keaton in 1895, was a renowned American actor, comedian, filmmaker and sexpot who made significant contributions to the art of silent film during the early 20th century.

Despite having a face of an angel and body of an Adonis, Keaton was never seen as a heartthrob in the vein of his contemporary Rudolph Valentino for example. In his early films made at the studio of Roscoe Arbuckle, and later his own Buster Keaton Studios, Keaton wore baggy clothing which concealed his enviable curves and bulging biceps. Limited close ups restricted the audience’s opportunities to gaze in wonderment and lust as his perfect profile and exquisite features.

Tragically, Buster Keaton didn’t do many love scenes and made exactly zero pornograhic features. We can’t blame him for that. Times were different and he wasn’t that kind of artist. But it doesn’t stop us wanting to know what his face might look like while cumming.

Whether whilst “Making Whoopee” or “Polishing His Knob” hopefully the above gifs could give us some insight into what his magnificent features might look like in that special moment 🥹

#buster keaton #kinkykeaton #orgasmic #1920s #1930s #old hollywood #precode

[aquagirl1978]

Pas de Deux - Chevalier Michel x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

My contribution for Day 2 - Person of the Arts AU of the "Different Universe, Same Love Content Creator Challenge" hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

Prompt: person of the arts au

Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Reader

Warning: fluff

There was nothing you loved more than dance.  

The stage and studio were your sanctuary; a place where you could fully express yourself in ways you couldn’t elsewhere. Where others saw painful, repetitive exercises, you saw opportunity for growth and development – a chance to shape yourself into the dancer you wanted to be. Every extra workshop meant a chance to strengthen or learn a new skill. A means to constantly improve. And it was even more vital now than before. Because of him. 

Chevalier Michel, dancer extraordinaire and choreographer. Beautiful yet terrifying, he demanded perfection from everyone in the company. You were frightened when you were selected as prima ballerina in his newest ballet – you had heard stories of how had had crushed the spirits of even the best dancers. But despite all this, you were determined to be the very best dancer you could be. Even if that meant spending every waking moment practicing your heart out. 

“Jonah, Jean, you’re dismissed.” He snapped his book closed, and narrowed his eyes at the two dancers as they vacated the studio. Their exit meant that it was just the two of you left in the studio – as he did not mention you by name, he wanted you to remain. But why? 

Unable to look directly at Chevalier, your gaze flicked across the room as your heart pounded in your chest. Your hands, needing something to do to expel nervous energy, removed an imaginary stray thread from your gauzy skirt.  

After placing his book on the empty chair next to his like it was a precious treasure, Chevalier rose and approached you. 

“You’re scared of me,” he said plainly. “You worry about why I chose you for this role. You don’t think you are good enough.” 

Your eyes widened – could he read your mind? “And what makes you say that?” you asked curiously, afraid of what other thoughts you had hiding there. 

“Your face is so easy to read.”  

You sighed, disappointed. Add mind reader to his list of many talents. 

“You want to know why I selected you,” he continued. The smell of vetiver mixed with winter filled your lungs as he casually walked behind you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, roughly adjusting your posture. “While you still need work, you show more dedication than any other dancer.” His fingers ghosted the line of your arm causing you to shiver slightly; he held your hand in his, elegantly extending your arms into third position while his other hand held yours at the waist. “Your extensions are enviable. Your discipline is second to none.” His gaze lingered on your joined hands as a soft smile formed on his lips.  

Tilting your face to meet his, his eyes no longer jagged glaciers but soft pools of blue. This close, you were able to see just how truly stunning his was – the way his blond hair perfectly framed his porcelain face, the way his pink lips just barely curved into the softest smile, the way that gentle smile reached his eyes, the brilliant blue sparkling. And for a moment, you found yourself speechless upon realizing this tender expression adorning his face was for you. 

“Only a fool would believe she was not worthy of being in my performance.” 

Your breath hitched as he roughly stroked your cheek with his thumb. You gazed into his eyes, your heart filling with warmth as you realized what he was telling you. For as graceful and elegant he was on the stage, he was everything but when it came to social interactions. 

“One day, I wish to dance with you as my partner.” 

Your lips parted, his words leaving you breathless as he dipped his head to meet yours, his lips firmly pressing against yours in a brief kiss. He cradled your head in his hand, his fingers awkwardly stroking your hair.  

His lips drifted from yours, far too soon for your liking. He squeezed your hand, and offered you one final smile before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsals.” 

With a smirk, he turned and left the room, taking your heart with him. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. 

Maybe there was something, or rather someone, you could love more than dance. 

Tagging: @xxsycamore @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @queengiuliettafirstlady @alixennial @redheadkittys @atelieredux @rhodolitesrose @chaosangel767 @queen-dahlia @devildomwritersposts @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @ikehoe @altairring @lordsisterxotome @lucyw260 @violettduchess

Want to be added to my tag list? Send me an ask or DM.

#different universe same love ccc #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #fanfic #ikemen fanfic #ikepri fanfic #otome #otome games

[mikwaa]

Pairing: Zhonglix f! Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, enemies to friends to lovers.

Lenght- 4,376

Here is the masterlist of this series!

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

After several hours of a completely comfortable sleep, which was interrupted by a nightmare you had.

You dreamed that Xiao was in trouble, and you couldn't help him. And this made you lose sleep quickly, but before you could wake up you managed to see Bosacius in this nightmare, and he was fine.

Which made you want to believe that things were okay, after all, you had to hold on to that. Because you already had many obstacles ahead of you. You stretched and as soon as you moved you realized that you were in the arms of Morax, who had also fallen asleep.

He had his head against the wall while his two arms held you tightly. You managed to move one of his arms, pulling him off of you. But that was enough to make Morax wake up.

"Don't tell me you were already wanting to escape." The voice was low and hoarse, visibly tired.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea, quite the contrary." Your voice had already returned to normal, fortunately.

He seemed more excited to know that you were already regaining some of your strength. Seeing this, he let go but was still in a position to hold you if he wanted to.

"Don't think that you're going to walk out freely, I'll still be right behind you." Unfortunately he still kept his word, this time you wanted him to forget it.

You looked at him and frowned, exactly how you were feeling.

"Honestly, don't you have someone else to pick on?" By this point you had extricated yourself from him and were leaning on the wall as you stood up.

His mouth curved into a smile, which soon changed when you stood upright. He looked more concerned than anything, which was still puzzling.

"Be careful, you're not quite right yet." He warns.

You nod, but as soon as you look around you think 'where the hell am I going now?'. Morax seemed to understand your thought, and gave a low laugh.

You heard him and rolled your eyes, there was no way he was enjoying or finding this situation in any way amusing.

"We can start on the left, there's a little climb. However, it's very narrow, so only one of us can get through at a time." It's not as if this is a problem, at least not for you.

"Not problem at all, we can go as fast as we like. You know, I don't want to spend any more time here." You complain while checking yourself, and you looked brand new. A few scratches, but nothing out of control.

Well, the benefits of being a Yaksha, at least if there were any benefits. And he soon understood your request, stood up, and was in order so quickly that even you wondered.

"Look how ironic, the great Mr. Zhongli is now all tattered." You mock him, and this time a broad smile appeared on your face.

It sounded funny in your head, the man who had an enviable etiquette was now in a sorry state. Of course, in this situation it was the least that could happen, and seeing him like this reminded you a lot of when you first met him, that unscrupulous brute. And that was the irony you brought, and surely he understood because as soon as he heard your sentence he tried to straighten up, tidied up his disheveled hair and fixed his clothes. It would have worked if he wasn't dirty and in rags. In this case, he wouldn't have been saved.

"So that's what gets a smile out of you? Don't tell me you laugh at other people's misfortune." He even spoke in an angry little voice, but frankly you couldn't take him seriously.

You laughed, and not only you but he saw that it was genuine. Who knows why that was so funny to you, but it was. He stopped and looked at you, even though it was a brief laugh but still new to him, at least something he hadn't seen in a long time.

Maybe you had become more pliable with him, as he had with you.

"I think we can go now. And you can stop being cunning, and show me the way." You tell him, you couldn't forget that you basically needed him to get out of that place.

He seemed dissatisfied with with your direct way of speaking. It was abnormal that he wanted to have a good conversation when the situation was not the most formidable.

"I'll go ahead, in any case you can stand back in case something dangerous happens." Morax says, treating you as if you were a poor defenseless child.

"I think you're forgetting who I am, is your memory failing you?"

He looked you up and down in a sort of evaluation.

"Are you unarmed, or have you forgotten?" Now he had a point.

And you checked yourself, and realized that your spear was not with you. How could you not have seen it before? Frankly, you must have been out of your mind not to realize something so basic.

"I still have my fists, I can fight with my own hands." You try to answer him back, but your expression gave away that you did not really realize it.

And that you were quite disconcerted.

"I know, you used to threaten people with your spear. Now you threaten them with your fists? What a regression." Full of sarcasm. And he made sure to make it clear so you could see it clearly.

You turned to him, with an angry expression on your face.

"Man, I was actually finding you less insufferable. But I regret it." Your scolding tone made him understand that you were serious.

"Don't worry, you'll think like you did before. I'm not as bad as I look." He says, patting you on the back

And he sounded exactly like an old man when he said that. You just rolled your eyes and started to follow him. He even tried to make conversation, but you didn't even pay much attention. For some reason you felt you had to be on your guard, and you were also looking for the remnants of Xiao Step by step you approached the climb that Morax had spoken of, and up close you could see how narrow it was.

"I'd rather you go ahead now, so I can keep my eyes on you.”

"As if I needed it." You reply sarcastically.

"It didn't seem that way. We can talk about it later, now hurry up." He says, pushing you gently to the entrance of the climb.

You start to walk in, and there's barely room for one person. You had to sneak along the walls. And he was right behind you, always keeping his eyes peeled for everything around him. It took a good few minutes before you reached the end of the passage, and as soon as you came out you didn't even recognize where you were.

Even looking around you couldn't remember a single detail. To Morax he seemed to remember the place quite clearly.

"Well, I know where we are. But I think the main entrance to this place is gone." He says with a sigh.

"I just wanted to get out of here. It seems to get worse every time." You cross your arms and look at him.

"I imagine it's quite torturous for you to be stuck here, since you have the freedom to leave whenever you want." Even when talking to you his gaze was always focused on his surroundings, he still had that same instinct to always be alert.

"Actually, what's torturous is being stuck with you. It would be more tolerable if I were alone." You couldn't miss the opportunity to say that, in a playful way.

"I should leave you stuck here, to see if you'd keep up this nonsense." He wasn't offended, but you managed to draw his gaze to you.

"If you get me out of here, I promise I'll stop bothering you. At least for a little while." You lift one hand, implying that you want to shake his hand.

"Done deal'." He shakes your hand.

And that was it, you only made this deal because it would benefit you. Not that you doubted he would get you out, but you wanted a certain efficiency in the process.

"Don't you think we should go that way?" You point to a path that was to your left, it was a little brighter and better looking apparently.

The truth is that place was a real war camp, that's what it had become after the last war that had happened. And you could still say it was surprising that things were still standing in that place.

"That may be, after all we don't have any other options." He began to move toward the path.

He looked and made a shrewd analysis, but after a while he realized that it was just another old and beaten path there. You took the initiative and went in first, he even thought of protesting but decided to follow you.

Things seemed to be quiet inside these deep parts of the chasm, maybe Xiao had had some direct influence on this. After all, the chasm was a place that was prone to monsters and similar creatures. Not that this was a bad thing, it actually made your journey much easier. And thinking along those lines, maybe Xiao wasn't even in the depths anymore, maybe he had already finished what he had to do and had left.

One of his bad habits was precisely this, to disappear and give no warning.

"Don't you find it strange that there's nothing to threaten us here?" He breaks the silence.

"Yes, but I believe Xiao had something to do with it."

He just gave a low grumble, perhaps trying to ponder.

Since he did not seem to know the real reason Xiao had come to these depths. And indeed, if he did, it was a great job. All that was around were old abandoned cabins. You remember that there was an old magic that worked around here, at the time you were in charge of other things. So you don't remember how or what this magic is, all you know is that it was able to kill a good part of the monsters that proliferated here.

Xiao and Bosacius were the ones who knew most about it, and Morax too, since it was under his orders that the spell was cast.

"Don't you want to rest? Remember that you are not yet at your best." Morax appears at your side, checking you to make sure everything was okay.

"I'm fine, at the moment I just want to get out of here as quickly as possible. I have a lot of things to do outside." You say, already thinking of the headache it would be to redo all the supplies you lost here.

He put a hand on your shoulder, and gave you one of his discreet smiles. He understood you, after all, he knows what it's like to have a big responsibility. And with that you couldn't think of stopping or anything, and besides you hoped that things on the surface weren't bad.

"Don't push yourself too hard, it could cause serious problems." It wasn't a complaint or grumbling on his part, it was more like friendly advice.

You nodded and kept walking, and you kept thinking how bizarre this place was. It was a surreal silence, a completely empty and lifeless environment, all you could find were abandoned mining carts, along with old and completely uninhabited campsites. It made sense that the miners didn't want to mine there anymore, it was dark and could pose a lot of risks to anyone who tried to get close.

And given the delay before you found your way out, it wasn't hard to conclude that it would be a long walk. It was funny that you two, even though you were super powerful beings, still walked around the corners always on the alert, not that there was any threat that could stop you, but still you two were always looking around.

"Are you still unsure which direction to take?" You stop walking and ask him.

"I remember very little from here, when I came through here things were very different. But I still remember things that might be important."He answers you.

It would be so easy if you could teleport from there, a pity that the Adepti powers you possessed were weakened here. Not only yours but even Morax's, so even for him this place was intimidating. Of course it wasn't as effective against him, but it was already much more evident in you, for example.

Just look at your wounds for example, they should be much better by now. However, they were fresh, almost raw, and this should not be happening. Unless it was a more delicate wound, like from a fight, for example. As this was not the case, you could easily say that this was the power the chasm exerted on you. And until today it is not clear why, even though it was a place with many underlying miasmas, it was not enough to explain this condition.

On the surface there were also many remnants of gods who had already died, in this case it comes down to the miasma. And that doesn't mean that your strength was weakened on the surface. Even though there have been many studies about this condition, there is nothing concrete that clearly explains it. For now you don't want to think about it too much, but it would be very difficult to recover soon. This effect would probably last for a few days, and especially since you have been here for a long time. It was confusing to tell if it had already been days, or just a few hours, since the time in the chasm was completely insane.

But this condition even seemed to affect Morax considerably, as his injuries were apparently also far from healed. You couldn't help but wonder what excuse he would give for such apparent scratches. And looking at him so closely, you could see the battle scars he had all over his body, and he had more than you could remember. Maybe it was because he still got into fights after all these years, or maybe you never paid enough attention to these details of his.

"We are close, I can guide from here on." And you were surprised by his line, because he sounded exactly the same way when he led troops in the past. Except that before he was much more of a ruthless man.

"Okay, I'll be right behind you." This time you didn't even hesitate or protest, all you wanted was to get out of this damn place.

And he walked away, always very carefully, especially when it came to you. He stepped carefully on those stable stones just to make sure that it was safe for both of you to pass. And by the way, at that moment you trusted him completely, not even you knew where you got the courage to believe in him just like that.

"I see that our agreement is already working, you don't tease me with your foolish provocations." Clearly the speech of a fully aged man.

"You see? I respect the agreement I make with the elders, especially you." You have made the irony in your voice explicit.

He quickly turned to you, with one eyebrow raised, but before he could speak someone caught your two eyes.

"They're here." A female voice you didn't immediately recognize.

As soon as you saw the figure you realized it was Shenhe, a disciple of the cloud retainer. And right behind her the so-called one appears, the cloud retainer herself.

"I don't even need to mention how unwise it was for you to come down here." That deep and strong voice that made you stop in place.

And you didn't even want to think about what had happened to make the cloud retainer come after you.

"Yes, indeed it was an unfortunate decision. But we are safe now." Morax says trying to work around the situation, trying not to get a good lecture from her. But from the look on her face, not even you could escape this time.

"I am well aware that it was this girl who decided to come, but for you to simply chase her and not take the proper precaution, frankly." She stopped in place and looked at the two of you, with a disappointed look to say the least.

"I still tried to prevent her from coming, however her stubbornness was stronger." He couldn't miss an opportunity to say that you were stubborn.

Right now you didn't want to talk, because anything you said might complicate things for you. The thing was that you had a great respect for the cloud retainer, and therefore you would have accepted her words without hesitation.

"Don't act like you're not a hardhead either, Morax. Now come on, we can talk on the way." She turned and headed off,

, as well as Shenhe.

"I don't even want to imagine who told of our disappearance." You speak whispering to Morax.

"Xiao, I told him to keep his eyes on you. He must have come back and missed you, and I don't think he even knew we were here."

You agreed, but then Xiao must have been worried enough to ask another Adeptus for help. And walking some more, while listening to the cloud retainer's disapproving sighs, you finally saw the surface again after who knows how long.

"I hope you won't get into trouble again, I have more important things to do than look for you. You have spent days here, everything could have gotten much worse." She gives the addendum, in a not very friendly way.

"I understand, I'll be more responsible." You say to her.

"And as for you, Morax, you chose this life as a mortal, but don't forget the duties that will never leave your responsibility." And she was not only talking about Liyue's safety, but about the latest events.

She had always been on Morax's side for everything, even though she had been afraid when he made his decision. But in the end she was just reminding him of something he already knew, and that whether he wanted to or not he would have to deal with this fact.

He nodded, not wanting to say anything because there was probably nothing he could say at that moment. And then she was gone, and Shenhe said goodbye, taking the direction she had to go.

You put one hand on your head and sighed, just wondering what the hell situation you had gotten yourself into.

"After all these years we are getting a scolding from her." You say in a tired voice.

"Even I wasn't expecting this." He says a bit disconcerted, after all who wouldn't?

You half-heartedly put a hand on his back, maybe a little consolation was what he needed.

"I frankly detest when these things happen, I don't like to bother my old partners for no reason." He looked angry with himself.

"I know, but there's no point in beating yourself up about it now. I can talk to her later, if you want me to." Even if you disagreed with him, or even if you picked on him, you also felt bad for bothering people you shouldn't have.

At the end of the day, Morax had a high regard for the Adepti in general, because of the great partnership they had created over the centuries.

"I will be grateful if you do." Even if he looked at you, you could see that he had a lost look in his eyes.

"Come with me, I'll take you to the inn. There I can get a better look at your injuries." You let your guard down and put your pride aside, now was not the time.

He seemed surprised at your sudden attitude, but since you promised not to bother him, it was high time you kept your promise. And even do him a small favor.

"I'll keep an eye on you too, don't think I can't see that you're in painful condition." Of course you couldn't hide it from him.

But this was more than normal given the situation, but nothing that couldn't be cured in a few days, at worst in a few weeks. Nothing that a good medicine along with some herbal remedies couldn't handle.

Morax kindly accompanied you all the way to the inn, on the way you talked about trivial matters, discussing how the local vegetation had changed in recent years. It was a bit silly, but incredibly, even though it was silly, it managed to bring together some of your interests, and in the end you talked about the use of certain vegetation in medicine, which was a subject of great interest to you.

"Where the hell were you?" That was the first thing Xiao said to you as soon as he saw you outside the inn.

He held you by the shoulders and checked you from head to toe, not liking the state you arrived in.

"I'm alright, don't worry." You say looking at him, who had a rather nervous look on his face.

He cursed as he let out a heavy sigh, and you could tell he was tense.

"I looked for you so much, I couldn't find a trace. You look like you're coming from a war." He clearly wanted an explanation, and he wanted a long one.

"I know I know, I'll tell you everything. Just let me take care of my injuries, and Morax's too." You say trying to calm him down, but now that you mention Morax, Xiao pays attention to him.

And who knows how Xiao's eyes widened even more, because only now did he realize that Morax was as bad as you.

"Let's go inside, and I expect you to explain it to me." Xiao says gruffly.

It made sense that he was angry, you were basically a younger sister, everyone else was looking out for you like crazy. And you irresponsibly just left without telling anyone, not even Bosacius. Plus when you came back, you came back in a not so good state. He walked with you to the inn, and Morax was right behind. He didn't say anything because deep inside he felt guilty for what had happened, and felt even worse knowing how important you were to Xiao.

You entered the inn and soon went to your room, where you kept most of the things you use. Once there you quickly took what you would need to take care of Morax, as well as yourself.

"Sit here." You call to Morax, asking him to sit on the bed.

And he came quickly, and snuggled down on the bed. All you did was pass the medicine where the wounds were, just by taking a wet cloth and doing it.

"I'll get the other medicine in the other room." Xiao told you, since he saw that you would need it a lot.

You say a silent thank you.

He left the room, leaving you and Morax alone. You continued silently to take care of Morax, passing the medicine and tying bandages here and there.

"Thank you." Morax says solemnly.

You looked up at him, your faces were very close together, and you could see up close the glow in his orbs, as well as the sympathetic smile he was giving you.

"No big deal." You say clumsily, kind of embarrassed by the whole situation.

"You know it is." He says staring at you, in a grateful way.

You continue what you were doing, and this time you try to hide your face. You didn't know how to handle these things, especially Morax saying he was grateful to you.

"Regardless of what position we are in now, you no longer have any obligations to me. In fact you never had any obligations to me when it comes to my well-being." He reminded you, and from the way he spoke it even sounded like you were doing quite an act.

But in your mind it didn't sound that way, you were just doing a favor, quite simply, sincerely.

"Let's put those things aside for now. What matters less now is our pride or whatever, we have more important things." You say frankly, because that's exactly what was on your mind.

"Another attitude of yours that surprises me.”

And once again you are caught off guard by Morax's sudden words.

"Stop being so silly, I have to finish this soon.” You say patting his arm playfully as you give a visible smile.

He gave you a little smile and let you continue without too many interruptions. It took you a good few minutes to finish, but as soon as you were done you felt relieved that things were over in a good way.

Xiao came in with the remaining medicine, and while you bandaged yourself, you also talked about everything that had happened together with Morax, who now and then also actively participated in the conversation. Xiao seemed not to believe everything that had happened, and you could also imagine the scolding that Bosacius would give you. But in the end you thought about it and had a good laugh, as crazy as it may sound.

It was funny the way you and Morax talked so energetically about it, it seemed like such a big event. But you couldn't deny that it was a very pleasant conversation, even if the situation wasn't like that.

And in the end you and Morax would have more of those vivid memories to talk about, a conversation that would be very profitable. Besides that after so long you were laughing with each other, enjoying it somehow.

A situation you couldn't imagine happening again even in your wildest dreams, and at least it was a pleasant one. One that you wouldn't feel so upset with Morax, at least this time.

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This fic is also posted on Ao3!

#zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n